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prettyboykatsuki · 10 months ago

Note

I can just imagine fujo neet reader practicing different sex position with rin to make sure she gets the proportions right.

✮ tags ; fem!reader, sexual tension, rin's pov, RIN IS KIND OF MEAN TO HER BUT HE WANTS HER SO BAD FDKJJS, reader is a fujoshi and bl mangaka, pre-relationship, they work together, part of a ficverse i haven't written yet Sorry, ONE JOKE ABOUT RIN WANTING TO OFF HIMSELF, SUPER SUGGESTIVE LOL 18+

✮ wc ; 3.5k (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!)

✮ a/n ; i had to do this for my sanity. i promise i will write them a proper fic with them i promise.

You never text Rin.

Not really. Not first at least. It's a new... friendship. Kind of. Sort of. Most of your communication thus far has been through meetings and random in-person chance encounters. Outside of that, Rin will call you since it's faster. If you do "text", it's mostly through twitter DM's.

There's a discord server your fans run, and you pop in there often enough. He's had the invitation extended but declined unilaterally, since he'd rather not see himself fucking Isagi anymore than he already has in his short, miserable career.

It surprised him this morning, seeing your message flash across the top of his screen. Asking, specifically, for him to come over and help you with something related to the new manga you were writing. He had it in his right mind to decline, but after learning it wasn't a doujin for him, he semi-reluctantly agreed.

Rin doesn't know when exactly your relationship to him grew this...comfortable. Inviting him over to your house, begging him for favors, not wincing every time he talks to you. Rin isn't an extrovert but compared to you he's a social butterfly. And your aversion to people in general, Rin thought, would prevent you from doing anything more than squeak at him forever just like you did when he met you.

(Though nothing in his life has been normal since your arrival in it. He's not sure why you would remain unchanged when he certainly hasn't.)

He doesn't know what to feel when you ask him for a favor, and he doesn't know what force of nature compels him to go. If it's morbid curiosity or annoyance or something else even worse.

It was compelling enough to take the train all the way out to Machida - an hour long trip from his own place. His manager hounded him to take you something, so he has a bag of ginseng energy drinks and snacks with him as a gift. He took the bus with his mask on, and then walked all the way to your building.

Your apartment is tucked somewhere classically suburban - attached at the far end of a residential street and behind concrete support beams for a highway just overhead. Cherry blossom trees and other shades of white flowers grow around it in thick patches, making the entrance hard to find. Rin would've had trouble if you didn’t give him details on exactly where to go.

It's an older building, stone walls worn and grass-stained from age. At the gate are groups of old people talking amongst each other as they sort through recycling and trash. All visor hats and sunspots, they fawn over Rin for a long while before he goes in and interrogates him with questions. None of them know him, which is relieving. It quickly graduates to them asking who he's there to visit, if he has a girlfriend or not.

All of them ooh and aah when he mentions your name, say something about being relieved she's found a man so handsome and that Rin should marry you because even though you're a little strange you're a good girl. Rin does not have the time nor energy to correct them - only nods and bows his head and leaves.

On the elevator ride up to your floor, he can't help but think repeatedly that this isn't the kind of place he'd expect you to live. He thought it'd be out in the middle of nowhere, maybe in a damp and broken building.

But this is a nice place with nice people, vibrant and colorful. Totally opposite from what he considers your personality.

Suitable or not, Rin manages to make it to your floor without a hitch.

He finds you, then, as he'd expect. Down a long hall, behind an unassuming white door. When you open it, you're a mess. Your hair completely unkempt, face greasy, a wild look in your eyes and complete surprise in your expression as if you didn't invite him over. You do, however, manage to invite him in without stuttering or stumbling over your words foolishly like you did the first time you spoke to him.

Another surprise is how... clean your living room is. It's lived in but he was expecting more mess in there. Your bedroom is in a similar state, undoubtedly messy but not terrible. Your NEET tendencies finally end up showing when you drag Rin into your office where you draw your manga.

It's not dirty but it's cluttered. There's a pull out sofa on one wall, with a blanket and pillow littered about and pages upon pages of paper sheets with scrapped panels about the floor. One wall has a bunch of post-its with several notes in both English and Japanese, and another has tacked up pieces of art. Both yours and other peoples. He chooses to ignore the ones of him and Isagi, The walls themselves are cream colored and uninteresting and the wood floors are slippery. At the far end of the room is a spread of desks, a PC set-up and a professional looking tablet among various art supplies in stacked boxes.

It's this room you bring Rin into without explaining yourself at all, mumbling and muttering as you give him a place to sit and go back to your work for fifteen silent minutes.

When you're finally finished doing whatever the fuck you were doing, you turn yourself back towards Rin. Bluelight glasses fall down the bridge of your nose as you swivel around in your chair - your sweatpants half pulled up your leg with the other pulled down. You're wearing fuzzy socks with Naruto characters on them.

You stare at him, pulling your glasses off and rubbing your eyes - dark circles under them.

"Uhm," Your voice is clipped and thick with exhaustion. "You came."

Rin deadpans. "You asked me to come."

"I thought you'd say no."

He did too. He doesn't respond back. You chew your lips, already anxious and Rin resists the urge to say something about it.

"Okay. Uhm. Please don't get mad," You start with and then explain, looking away. Your hands pull your sleeves over your palms. "So. Like. For my new series, I'm finally getting to the sex scene but I've never drawn characters with an intense height difference like this. And I need... new reference photos.... and uhm," You rub your feet together on your chair where you sit "Well our height differences and size is the exact one my characters have. So."

Rin stares at you. "So?"

"SoIwaswonderingifyou'dtakereferenceimagesforsexpositionswithme,"

Rin feels his jaw lock. "Slower."

You frown and look away, tucking your chin with embarrassment. "I was uhm, like, wondering if you'd take... take the uhm, sex position reference photos with me, please."

"What?"

You clasp your hands together, immediately prostrating yourself by throwing yourself down the ground. He flinches back, wondering if you're gonna hold onto his leg next.

"Please, please help me. You're the exact height of my seme and you uhm have similar builds and he's doing the most of the legwork. The poses are a little bit hard but I want them to look good or Minami-san will eat me and I'm scared of her, please help me."

"Who is Minami-san?"

You sniffle, on the verge of tears just thinking about it. "My editor. She used to be my fan. She's scary. Please, Rin-kun, please."

"What the hell did you do before?"

You frown at him, big wet puppy-dog eyes.

"It was hard. Sometimes I'd pose with my big stuffed animals and make up the proportions. Oh and usually watched porn and stuff. Sometimes I'd get lucky with stockphotos. But I don’t get the angle exactly right unless I have good references."

Rin wonders if anything you have ever said has processed in your mind before saying it. He doubts it for some reason.

"So," Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the image of you humping your stuffed animals out of his head. "You're asking me to.. pose with you?"

You nod and chew your lip. "Please, I promise I'd never ask you for this if I wasn't s-scared of Minami-san! Please?"

"I should make you pay me for this," He sneers. You flinch back and close your eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whine wetly, but then open your eyes again anyway. "Please help me."

Rin doesn't know why he helps you. Maybe you're just too pathetic for him to ignore. Maybe he's a masochist. Maybe inhaling the same air as Bachira last week turned him stupid.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine."

If Rin didn't believe you before when you told him you make your own references, he'd definitely believe you after you take him to your bedroom.

Your bed is in the center of your room, instead of being pushed against a wall. Large stuffed animals laid in one corner. On both sides of the room, are makeshift digital camera stands and remote-controlled lighting among another remote for said cameras. There's about 4-6 angles from what you explained to Rin, and a few adjustable lights. It's an elaborate set-up and takes the kind of dedication Rin can only imagine a hardcore fujoshi freak like yourself thinking up.

All of this to mostly draw porn of him and his rival. He tries not to think about it too hard because he thinks it's going to give him an aneurysm. Rin sits at the edge of your bed as you adjust each of the cameras individually.

"What do you do if it's not on a bed?"

You flinch like you aren't expecting him to talk. "Uhm. I either simulate as best I can o-or move my things and bed around. It's why I moved my desk to my office."

Rin stares at you. "You take it seriously."

You nod meekly. "Producing high-quality doujin is what made me money, so I have to work hard. Being poor is tough."

If Rin didn't find you so unbearable he might find that awe-inspiring in his own fucked up way.

"Okay. Everything is set-up. Now for the poses," You say, suddenly sparking back to life. Rin sits and watches. "They're having sex on a public beach so the bed and the way the seme sort of sinks into the sand will be good... I think the bridge one is the one we'll do first."

"The bridge?"

You nod, talking in short sentences. But Rin can tell this is where you're comfortable, doing things for this... hobby. Your usual constant embarrassment and shame seem to disappear when it comes to it. It's fascinating like a car crash. "Uhm. You have to stand on your knees and then, I'll lay on my back and arch my back up to meet your... y'know. It'll emphasize the height difference."

Rin stares at you agape. You take the remote control for your cameras in your hands and look at him expectantly.

Rin doesn't know whats wrong with him. Why the hell did he agree to this?

"Do you want me to take my jacket off?"

You nod, surprised. He shrugs the thing off of his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.

Rin, per your instruction, gets into the position in the middle of the bed. He stands on his knees waiting for you. You join him a minute after, squinting at your phone screen beforehand. He isn't sure what he's expecting as a result of your ask, but he sure is shocked when he finds you placing your feet flat on the bed next to his knees and pushing yourself up for your crotch to meet his.

He knows that’s what you said but your shamelessness proves to be… shocking.

He tries not to let it show. His jaw ticks. His face feels warm but his expression remains neutral all the same. You shift and adjust and don't seem concerned at all - like it doesn't occur to you that this is in any way socially unacceptable. Or it's unfathomable Rin would take advantage of this. That this is weird, or could be interpreted in less than innocent ways. Rin knows you're so out of touch that it probably isn't. That this is, to you, just considered a favor which is partially why he even agrees.

But you're mid-brushing up against his bulge. The angle of your back forms a triangle, your arms laid flat at your sides as you squirm and push. And your expression shifts, deep in thought.

"Uhm, like, would you mind p-putting your hands on my hips? Kind of squeezing tight like it's," You flush this time, but Rin harbors doubt it's about him. "Like it feels good I guess? Like hard, and stuff so you can see the indent."

He's so astonished, he does it on autopilot. Neutral and even. He lets his hands grab your hips and holds tight just as you ask. Your long, loose sweatshirt falls down revealing the soft skin of your tummy. He can see the tops of your underwear, the thin cotton kind that come in 6-packs with a single bow in the middle in a grey color.

You don't seem to care about it. Rin shouldn't either, but his body does seem to care. His brain does. Something is happening in his gut. Anger maybe. Some cheap, frustrated desire to make fun of you.

Instead the words he's been wanting to ask since you proposed this tumble out of his mouth. He stares at you.

"Is this the first time someone's done this with you?"

You jump with a start, but remain in position. You take the pictures first, six clicks in a row before answering.

"H-huh? Why-why are you asking that?"

He doesn't know. Really. And he knows how it sounds. Rin doesn't say anything and you fold under the immense pressure of his gaze.

"S-stop staring," You say, and take a few more pictures, lowering your back just a little but still staying up right. "And no. No one tall enough or with the right physique."

There is another gnawing question, another burning curiosity. He makes his voice as even and unaffected and apathetic as he can. As mean as possible.

"Have you ever even had sex?"

Your eyes blow wide, but you seem to fall for the persona of apathy, curious boredom and cruelty. Worse, you seem a little used to it. You squirm this time and Rin holds you firmly in place. Your voice is small.

"Uhm, like, once I guess. I-it was with a guy, I didn't really date him but he seemed interested in me and I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again s-so I did it and I didn't uhm, it wasn't very good or anything." You reply, and he can feel your toes curl in your socks next to him and his brain feels like it'll melt from out of his ears. "Sorry, I don't-don't think you care about that, just uhm, felt like I should explain."

"Yeah," Rin feels dizzy. "Do you need another pose?"

You blink and then nod. "Yeah! Another one kind of like this, but with the legs like uhm, on your chest and my feet closer to your head. With you leaned back a little. Does that make sense? The butterfly position, I think."

Rin swallows something at the back of throat.

He nods, pulling you into position so easily he can heard you gasp. Your legs straighten against his clothed chest, and your sweatshirt falls far enough to let him see your bra. A fabric sports kind, a little worn - just the logo visible. He doesn't say anything about it, your feet resting near his neck. You make a little soft noise.

"This feels a little difficult to be in. Poor uke. Sorry if this one is kind of weird, but can you put your hands, I dunno, on my ass, I guess? I know that's probably too much but I think it'll be a good detail, so please? I'll pay you"

Rin stares at you, teeth gritting so hard he feels the back of his skull throb. "Fine."

Rin, per your request, puts his hands on your ass. It's easy enough, and he doesn't hold too tight. But it's too intimate, too stupidly fucking intimate, and he can feel you. You're hardly paying attention, caught up in your own head with whatever else. Rin is paying too much attention. Like how your sweatpants aren't thick enough to cover the outline of your frumpy cotton panties and how your soft all over. He's going to kill someone. Maybe himself.

Six more clicks and a little noise of satisfaction.

"Okay!!! I think these will turn out so great, and I can use them later too. Just one more. I have a lot of refs for this position, but uhm - I want to see if I can get the proportions correct, so if you'd please lay down," You tell him with such genuine excitement he can't find it in himself to say anything horribly cruel. "I'll be doing most of the work this time. I just-just need to see how uke will compare..."

You mutter something to yourself as Rin lets you down and lays himself down on your bed. You sit next to him for a long while, squinting at your phone. Rin stares at you as you. Wonders if he's gone completely insane, and tries to ignore the doom of the impending hard-on cozying itself in his pants.

Unceremoniously, you find yourself perching over Rin's lap. Not bothering to give him any pretense, it's the one thing about today that's really getting him.

"Oh, I need my hands for this," You give him the remote and stare down at him wide-eyed, over his lap. This has to be hell. "Could you take the photos this time?"

He closes his eyes and counts to ten and wonders if a concussion has made him insane. "Hm."

You brighten and Rin feels his chest go tight. "Thanks!"

Rin just nods, his mouth drying as you start to move and pose. A picture with your hands next to his head, and anothe r where you're sat up - your hands at your sides. Rin obediently takes pictures when you ask, his entire body tensing every single time you move.

"Okay, last one," You say. This time, you put your hands on his chest. Just the one. You must have something specific in your head that you're wanting to recreate. You bend down close, looking down at him as you do - your other hand clenched.

Rin looks up at you. He should not be thinking about you in any way. He's looking at the way your lips curve and plump and at your bare skin and your dark circles and your stupid licensed anime hoodie. He just gapes at you in confusion and mystique. He's around so many weirdos. It's not like there's anything special about you. You’re just another freak who makes porn of him. Plenty of people do that.

A loser and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. There's nothing special about this, but Rin hasn’t been able to convince himself of that.

You stare down at him.

"Take a picture?"

Rin looks at you. Studies your expression. You seem like you're thinking. It's the only oppurtunity he has to pry.

"Did you want to ask something?" He says first. “You’re not hard to read.”

You startle, then nod. Your hand is on his chest. It's warm, and smaller than his.

"Oh, I-I guess I was wondering about what you asked me earlier. And uhm, like, I don't know. If you ever did anything. Your relationships aren't in the media and fans speculate but," You fall flat on your words. "I guess I was just curious."

Rin hates this question. It's why he never answers it. Why he hates being called a hearthrob, always too shallow and too personal for his taste.

"Nothing long term or serious. It was most for physical relief." Rin says, almost on autopilot. “Not that’d you know what that’s like.”

Your eyes widen. Rin feels his hands twitch, watching your expression finally grown conscious of him. Lust spreads through you like honey and Rin can see it in how you look. You squirm in his lap. He's not usually so aggressive, not usually one to care about sex in any important way. Not one to brag about something so unbelievably inane and trivial.

But it's bothering him, just how much he's fighting the urge to pin you down and fuck you. You of all people. It's not like him. Rough sex is whatever, but it's bothering him how little any of it seems to register in your head anymore like it once did. You could barely breathe the first time you met.

He doesn't know why he cares that you don’t anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about anything related to you

But the thought nothing seems to bother you anymore bothers him.

"Oh... I see. That's uhm, interesting. I b-bet you have a lot more experience than me. Maybe it'd be a good thing to keep you around for that kind of refernce too," You joke.

Rin lets his hand slip up to your hips without asking, not bothering to hide it anymore. His head feels with nothing but stupid useless thoughts. Thoughts of fucking you in your old, worn clothes and stained shirts and comfortable cotton underwear. Thoughts of your hands clutching at his shoulder all weepy with desire and need and stupidity - your big wide eyes bleary and sensitive. It's cruel how relentlessly he thinks about taking advantage of all your differences. Of how unathletic and awkward and unused to everything you are.

It's horrible just how much he's staving off his own arousal about it. Maybe you're strange habits are infecting him, making him strange too strange. All Rin can think about uselessly is how easily he could put you in your place. Fix you in some strange way. You’d be his to fix and you’d cry and weep and want to run away. Rin wouldn’t let you, keep you pinned and caged like an animal.

His throat feels tight. What is fucking wrong with him today?

Is he that pent up? He stares at you, and gets some passing feeling that there is more to it than that. He closes his eyes.

"Whatever," He says, letting go. You don't seem to notice it again, how thick his voice is getting "Are you almost done?"

You nod and smile. "Yes. Thank you."

Rin feels his heart tug and seethes. “You're welcome."

#return to sender #writing tag #fujoverse #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #THIS IS KIND OF COOKING ME TO DEATRH IM?

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sweetflanfiction · 1 month ago

Text

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 14

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I've made some cute headers for the thing!!! What do you guys think??

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13

• ··········· • ············ •

The respite that was felt after the council decision was welcome, but at the same time it felt very tenuous. Because of your knowledge, it always felt like things were always about to go downhill. It didn’t make you paranoid per se, but it consistently felt like there was a hitch that needed to be scratched somewhere.

The sun was already high when you made your way to the Academy. You had scheduled an appointment to supposedly check on your mother's commission. According to Jayce, everyone who entered that lab after the council decided to supervise it had to be accounted for.

You asked for the visitor pass at the reception, adjusting your shoulder bag and smiling at the man sitting there.

The morning had been good; your audition for the orchestra had gone amazing, and you were now headed to butt heads with your two favorite brainiacs after leaving your mother on a date with her loving partner.

Today was going to be good.

The door to the lab was ajar, but you knocked, the reflex to open it speaking a rune thwarted as you heard more than the two familiar voices inside.

“Come in.” Jayce’s voice boomed, and you walked inside.

You tried to keep the good spirits when you noticed not just Salo but Ambessa and Rictus inside the room. 'Trying' being the key word.

You felt your face contort into turmoil as your eyes landed on the general’s bodyguard. His eyes turned back to you in a blank, nonchalant expression. In your head, the words ‘I know how you die’ kept replaying, like a broken lullaby.

The sound of glass shattering made your head snap to the windows of the lab. The skies had turned a deep, dark, grayish purple, the room darkening as well, and the window of the lab kept cracking. The sound of the glass grinding going up in volume. In the middle of the crack, a purple glowing rune appeared. Ragged and jagged and angry.

You tilted your head and kept staring at it. It was almost hypnotic, a weird tingling in your gloved hand. You wanted to use it, and you wanted to use it now.

It was a feeling unlike any other rune appearance. It was a pull to do it; you needed to do it.

You heard someone call your name in the distance, but the pull was too strong. Golden fingertips came into view as they grabbed your arm.

Without thinking, you twisted your arm around the hand and quickly moved it down to escape its grasp. Following the movement, you shoved a hand out to push it out, only to be snapped out of your headspace by the sound of a slap on a cold metal surface and another hand on your wrist.

Blinking, the space around you got back to normal. Rictus stared at you, one of his eyebrows raised, and you did the same, the mask of civility gone and a scowl now etched on your face.

“Rictus…let the heir to the Rainemoure house go…” Ambessa’s voice cut through the silence. Rictus' grip on your wrist slackened, and your arm fell to your side.

Your gaze shifted to the other people in the room, everyone staring at you in confusion.

“I…” you started, trying to move your face to a more neutral expression. “I apologize; I don’t like being touched.”

“Then maybe you should acknowledge when someone calls your name.” Salo said, and you nodded, slowly coming to your senses, putting the mask back on.

“I apologize. It’s been a long...morning. You looked at both scientists.

They were both wearing the same worried look. Jayce’s eyes kept shifting from Rictus to you and back, and you noticed he was slowly releasing the handle of a hammer. Viktor was staring at you, trying to decipher what it was that had happened, his cane standing mid-way through a step.

“I completely forgot that you had an appointment.” Jayce said, sneakily moving the hammer away from his hand, trying to divert attention.

“It’s alright. I’ll be at the cafeteria; I haven’t had lunch.” You quickly put your hands up, trying to get away from the lab.

“I’ll accompany you.”. Viktor blurted out.

“I’m sure they can make their way there by themselves. This takes priority.” Salo scoffed, looking you up and down.

“Councillor Salo is correct.” You smiled, mask fully back on. “I do apologize, General. I didn’t mean to surprise or harm your bodyguard.”

She fully turned to you and gave you a wolfish grin, tilting her head to the side.

“No need for apologies. He can take it.” Her eyes twitched as she tried to peek back behind the curtain.

Forcefully, but gracefully, you turned to Rictus.

“I am sorry.” You told him, trying with all your might to not grit your teeth, and he nodded. “Well, I’ll see you two in a bit.”

You waved as you walked out the door before making a dash to the elevator and just standing against a corner of the well-lit box, taking several deep breaths.

Aside from the sudden encounter, the feeling of that rune still lingered. It was like a hunger that would only be satisfied when you devoured it, and at the same time, it felt like a caress, stroking your soul, telling you everything would be fine when you spoke it. It was seared into your mind, and yet you didn’t want to speak it.

The elevator pinged, and you walked out directly to the cafeteria, where your objective lay. Or stood.

The Academy’s Grand Piano was donated by the PSO. In your universe, it was a shiny black beast with ivory keys. In this universe, it was a matte grey delicate piece that was perfectly tucked into a corner of the cafeteria.

You walked to the small counter that separated the tables from the service area. A young man was behind it, leaning into the counter reading a book and scribbling something in a notebook. A student. Knocking gently on the counter with your knuckles, so as not to frighten him, you watched as even so he jumped a little. He looked up at you, sighing deeply in annoyance.

“Good day, what can I get you??” He marked the book and looked at you, trying to be courteous and failing.

Ordering something quick to snack on, you looked at the piano as the man started to prepare the food.

“Is the piano tuned?” You nodded towards the instrument.

“Yes.”

“Can anyone play it?”

“Depends.” He placed the latte mug in front of you. “If a person were to just slam on the keys and call that ‘playing it,’ then no…”

“What if a person might just know a bit about it?”

“It’s all yours…”

Little did he know that in your timeline, that piano had been, in fact, yours. Your father donated it to the orchestra, and the orchestra donated it to the Academy.

You grabbed the mug and the small dish with your sandwich and walked to the piano.

“Do you have any requests?” You asked the kid behind the counter, and he shrugged.

“Something that doesn’t sound like a cat screeching.”

“I can do that.”

You sat at the piano, placing your food on a small table nearby. The audition this morning made you remember how much you enjoyed playing.

It reignited something in you. Playing at home, with your mother and Wyllah listening, was nice, but sitting on a stage, with the spotlight on you and people who had never heard you play sitting there, was another experience.

It soothed you, removing any trace of anger or worry the last few minutes had caused you.

Vivaldi - Winter (The Four Seasons)

Placing your fingers on the keys, they moved on their own. Touching the ivory keys in sync with the music in your head. Much like the runes, this was something that, after learning to do, you did without thinking about it. Your brain played the song, and your fingers moved on the piano or any other instrument you had learned to play.

And much like the runes, as you added a note to the melody, it became enriched and more intricate. Your hands flew over the black and white keys like muscle memory.

As you kept playing, you looked at the kid behind the bar who had fully stopped what he was doing and looked at you. In a second his impressed expression changed to a blank one, but you saw his little grin as he shrugged.

There was a small crowd of students that had followed the sound and sat on the tables looking at you. Some were eating while others were trying to study.

“Sorry…” You looked at a girl who was looking at you, a book opened in front of her. She smiled and shook her head.

“It’s nice.” She answered. “Please keep going.”

You straightened your back and kept playing. Sometimes you’d play something more upbeat and then go back to something calmer. You’d banter with the young bartender while you played.

Debussy - Clair de lune

After a few songs, you looked up to see both scientists standing under the arch of the cafeteria entrance looking impressed. Viktor walked towards the piano, followed closely by Jayce.

“I just might start coming to the cafeteria more often…” Viktor announced, leaning into his cane when he got near you.

“You should; the service is quite exceptional…” You said it loud enough that the student behind the bar could hear it.

“Flattery will get you everywhere!” He said, not taking his eyes off his notes.

Jayce grabbed two chairs on his way over and mentioned one to Viktor while sitting on the other. His face had a little concern painted on it.

“What happened up there?” He immediately zeroed in on you, and you sighed.

“Talking about beating around the bush.” You gave Viktor a look, and he shrugged.

“The rage you had in your face when you looked between Rictus and Ambessa…it was murderous.” Jayce whispered. “And then you punched him in the chest.”

“It was a slap at best.” Viktor corrected, placing the cane between his knees, Jayce shooting him a dirty look.

“Listen…” He took a deep breath. “I understand things are... weird for you. Different places, different customs. But that can’t happen, not while Hextech is hanging on the line.”

“It’s not just that…” You sighed and got closer to the edge of the bench. “There was a rune in your lab…”

They exchanged a look, and both got closer, leaning into their knees. The sight of the three of you huddled together must have been something.

“It was different…Like…” You played a few high notes on the piano and then slammed a hand on the low notes. “This…”

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to look at you, the sudden sound catching their attention.

“I don’t know what it was, but..." You tried to explain, "Normally they appear when I need them, and I wouldn’t feel the pressure of using them… but this... this one demanded to be used, like it needed it. Like I needed it.”

“Did it hurt you?” Viktor asked, his eyes roaming your arms and face.

“No. If anything, I hurt it by not speaking it into reality.”

“It was time that we found a bad word in the language…” Viktor’s jaw clenched, and after a second he got up. “I’m going to need sugar to study this fully…”

You snorted, and Jayce rolled his eyes as Viktor walked towards the cafeteria counter. You followed his rhythmic strolling, smiling as he looked at all the pastries on display, making an unimpressed face at it.

“Rictus did something in your timeline, didn’t he?” Jayce’s voice snapped you out of watching Viktor’s judgment of the pastry.

“It wasn’t Rictus himself. It was Ambessa.”

“The General?”

“She wants the hextech to be weaponized so she can fight her own enemies…”

“I know…” You looked at Jayce, and he was looking at his feet. “I’ve gathered as much by what Mel tells me about her. Not that she tries to hide it. General Medarda makes some interesting questions.”

You sighed and turned back to the piano, playing some old melody that you knew by heart.

“In my universe…” you started, your tone unsure. “she gets it…She uses it… It doesn’t behave like she wants it, but…in the end…she gets it…”

You steal a glance in Vik’s way as he waits for his order to be prepared. He was chewing on the cheek, deep in thought.

“How?” Jayce frowned in confusion, and after a second, his eyes widened. “Which one of us died?”

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies

#arcane #viktor #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #slow burn #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #arcane season 2 #arcane x you #arcane characters #arcane reader

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tibby-art · 4 months ago

Note

what is the convexian hitman au?

To sum it up, Cub and Scar are hitmen that work for the local government, the NHO. Once human, the two made a pact with a mischievous fae entity called the Vex in exchange for power. They were once the most dangerous criminal duo in the city, until they were finally caught. They were given two options: work for the government as hitmen, or life in prison. The vex can make pacts that cannot be broken, so they have to do what the NHO says (but they find loopholes at every given opportunity).

The NHO was a group from hermitcraft season 5 and consists of Bdubs, Doc, Etho and Beef. It stands for the New hermit order and they manage city affairs and try to maintain peace (emphasis on try to).

Grian (who uses he/she pronouns in this au) is a university student studying architecture, and has a pretty normal life. That is until one day, when he comes in contact with an ancient artifact while out studying ancient architecture ruins. He gains the powers of a Watcher - eldritch beings so mysterious they were long considered to be a myth. She gains new sixth-sense abilities that are incredibly overwhelming. The NHO swoops in before Grian can hurt anyone or herself with her new powers, and takes Grian to their base, where he is studied by their best doctors and scientists for months.

The NHO deems Grian’s new abilities too powerful and unpredictable to allow him to return to society as a normal citizen, so Grian is also brought into hitmen work. Her new abilities- once she gains better control over them- can be used to help keep the city safe. Grian is handed off to the ConVex hitmen duo to be trained as a hitman abd to aid them on their missions.

There are more minor characters I’d like to introduce to the au as well! For example, Martyn is a youtuber and internet sleuth convinced that Watchers are real. No one really believes him, until Grian comes in contact with him, asking for any information about the Watchers…

I think my main inspiration behind the au was that Watcher!Grian is often depicted as this omniscient, all-knowing powerful demigod, and I thought it would be interesting to explore a Grian who has Watcher powers, but they’re brand new to him and he has no idea how to use them. Also I just like convexian as a trio lol

I want to make an organized masterpost eventually when I have time, but for now I try to keep everything in the #convexian hitman au tag! You can read a lot more about it there, there’s plenty of doodles, writing snippets and general yapping. Feel free to send asks about it :P

#asks #convexian hitman au #grian #cubfan135 #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft

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glossdebut · 4 months ago

Text

take a bite | MYG ★ 7

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: copious amounts of FEELINGS both good and bad, theatre references LOL, world-class meddler kim seokjin, yoongi being hopelessly whipped, angst, smut

✧ WORDCOUNT: 10.3k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: WOW. i don't even know what to say... with this chapter, take a bite is officially complete. THANK YOU so much to those of you who have been reading from the very beginning and sending me such kind words. this story means so much to me and i can't believe it's over. thank you again to @love4myg for beta reading this chapter and the last!! everybody go give tanni some love. i love you all! i tried to give this story the ending it deserves so i hope you enjoy the last chapter <3

CH. 7: Wanna Do It All Over Again

You’re a planner, a scheduler. You keep a minimum of six to-do lists at a time. You do your best work when your week is clearly laid out for you within the confines of the neat little boxes on your calendar. So you allot yourself one day to grieve what could’ve been with Min Yoongi, and that’s it.

Your Sunday is spent wallowing, because Rina doesn’t give you any choice in the matter and you don’t have it in you to put up a fight. She seems a little bit like she’s grasping at straws on how to help you, though.

You don’t blame her. Rina had dropped everything to be by your side when your ex ended things, but the remedy for that was pretty straightforward.

There was the initial crying on your part—the intense and nauseating kind that felt like it would never stop, until Rina held you and it inevitably did. After the tears came the anger, the picking apart of every little argument you’d had with him, every quirk of his that had soured from endearing to annoying, and Rina had no problem talking shit. Anger turned into drinking, and drinking led to falling asleep in a heap together on your couch.

It didn’t magically fix the hollowness inside of you overnight, but it helped. Rina had a patented method to make a broken heart a little more bearable.

A patented method that, unfortunately, doesn’t really apply here. Your heart isn’t broken over a failed situationship. You’ve been crying, sure, but it’s more of a passive sniffle than anything else. You can’t bring yourself to feel angry at Yoongi either. Confused, annoyed, disappointed, stupid—all of those you can feel just fine. But the anger just won’t come.

Desperate, Rina defaults to cliches. Cheesy movies, ice cream, face masks—the stuff straight out of a ‘How To Get Over Your Ex In Ten Easy Steps’ article in a teen magazine. She paints your nails while you stare blankly at Julia Stiles’ face on your TV. You force yourself to believe it’s helping. You have work to do, a deadline to meet. So if you need to watch 10 Things I Hate About You with Rina and cry it out to cleanse your brain of Yoongi, so be it.

You refuse to use a sick day in general, let alone because of a man, but you do grant yourself permission to work from home on Monday. Not because you’re still grieving—that’s what Sunday was for—but because you look like you’ve been run over, dumped into the river and then fished out.

With greasy hair and puffy eyes, you set your phone to do not disturb and hunker down in your bed to write your profile on Yijeong. Despite the burn of your laptop on your thighs, you type and self-edit for hours, pausing only to listen to your recording of Yijeong’s interview and transcribe direct quotes.

You’re able to churn out a subpar first draft before you burn out around four in the afternoon. Your brain is all over the place, and as a result, the profile is nowhere near where it needs to be. But you don’t have it in you to stare at your laptop screen for any longer.

Rina slipped out this morning and made herself scarce so you could work, so you’re alone. You decide to shower first and foremost, something you’ve been putting off for far too long, and then maybe order dinner if you want to shell out extra money towards a delivery fee.

Stretching your legs as you stand, you use some of your few remaining dregs of energy to drag yourself out of bed and into your bathroom, finally shedding yourself of the sweatpants and shirt you’ve been wearing since Sunday morning.

Your mistake is looking in the mirror. The few marks Yoongi made on your body are only just barely beginning to fade, still dark on your skin. You trace a fingertip over the bruise he’d sucked into your breast just days before, so recently that you can still conjure a phantom of the feeling of his lips and teeth on your skin. He’d wanted you so fervently then that you’d been sure at that stupid party that he already felt what you did. That he’d just been waiting for you to catch on.

You don’t know what you did wrong, what kind of misstep you could’ve made to make Yoongi withdraw so suddenly like he did, but you wish you could take it back.

When you finally emerge from your shower, you’re no more energized than you were when you entered. At the very least, though, you’re clean, and you decide to reward your efforts with tangsuyuk.

When you turn your phone off of do not disturb, you can’t help but hope, just for a moment, that Yoongi has texted you today.

Instead, you find that Seokjin has.

[4:42] Seokjin: If you’re not too busy, can we meet?

The anger that had been missing in action floods your senses all at once.

Seokjin wants to meet you. Seokjin, who you’ve met once. Meanwhile Yoongi, who allegedly still wants to be your friend, can’t send you a cursory text or, god forbid, walk down the hallway to explain any of this to you.

You are not this girl. You have gone through strenuous effort to build very sturdy, very high walls to ensure that you don’t become this girl—the one who loses sight of what’s important to her for a man who will just fuck her over anyway, leave her high and dry. Disappear with no explanation. Fuck that.

If Yoongi isn’t man enough to let you down easily himself, if he’s going to have Seokjin do it for him, maybe you’re better off without any bullshit excuse. From either of them.

You swipe out of your messages, ordering your hard-earned tangsuyuk first. Once the payment has gone through, you open Seokjin’s message again, fingers shaking as you type out your stilted reply and press send.

[5:03] You: i am too busy. and not interested.

Bitterly, you set your phone back to do not disturb. The delivery driver will knock when your food is here, and you couldn’t care less about whatever Seokjin’s reply could be.

★ ★ ★

The rest of the week goes by in a blur, but now that you’re committed to feeling pissed off, you actually feel a lot better. Maybe it’s the man-hater in you.

You hyperfocus on finishing the profile, the words flowing much easier now that you��re done feeling sorry for yourself. Even when you have to write about Suga and his impact on Yijeong’s career, you aren’t the slightest bit thrown off. By the time you’re done, you’re confident that it’s possibly the best thing you’ve written in a long time, and when you hand it off to Rina for feedback she concurs.

On Wednesday morning, you drop the final draft off on Kevin’s desk for approval, and then spend the next few hours helping out where you’re needed. Everyone in the office is in a frenzy to get the layout of Look Here’s next issue together. You spend your day copy editing and calling sources with last minute follow-up questions.

When all of the articles are squared away, you lurk by the design team in case they need any extra hands. In return, you get to watch the paginator type your headline onto the front cover, which is… a pretty cool moment for you.

You usually hate the week leading up to print day, but knowing that Yijeong’s profile is going to be on the cover, you revel in the chaos of it.

You’re slightly anxious when Kevin calls you into his office right before quitting time, but you try not to let it get to you too much. You know the profile is good.

“Y/N,” Kevin says, tearing his attention away from his computer as you step into his office. It’s a good sign, you think, that he’s looking you in the eyes this time. “Sit down.”

You sit, immediately tapping your foot to try and calm your nerves. “You wanted to see me?”

“I read your piece,” he says, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his desk. But he doesn’t say anything else.

Um… Okay.

“And?” you ask meekly. He looks at you seriously, and your heart jumps into your throat.

“It was incredible,” he says. Fuck, thank god. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“Really?” you ask, your whole body relaxing all at once.

“Really,” he insists. “It was well-written, informative, personal. I don’t know how you got him to open up like that, but I hope you can keep doing it.”

You blink at him. “Keep doing it?”

“You can expect more assignments like that starting next week,” Kevin says, smiling at you warmly. Holy fuck. “We’re all very impressed with you. We want to give you bigger responsibilities moving forward.”

“Thank you,” you blurt out, unable to contain your excitement. “Thank you, I won’t let you down.”

“I hope not,” he hums, amused, before turning back to his computer. “Go home and get some rest. Print day tomorrow.”

“I will,” you say, standing up in a flash. You want to call—Rina, you want to call Rina and tell her the good news. “See you tomorrow!”

“Have a good night!” Kevin calls as you leave his office in a hurry.

As you walk back to your desk to grab your bag, it feels more like you’re walking on a cloud. Holy fuck. You were right. This piece was your breakthrough piece, and you proved yourself just like you knew you could. Nothing can bring you down right now.

★ ★ ★

As it turns out, Kim Seokjin is not the kind of guy who takes kindly to being ignored. Based on what you know about him, you probably should’ve been able to figure that out on your own. But you certainly didn’t expect him to ambush you outside of your apartment.

You spotted Seokjin sitting against your door as you made it home from work, although he scrambled to his feet when he noticed you approaching. You wondered how long he’d been sitting there waiting for you to get him. He looked like he was well-prepared to convince you to let him in, a pre-planned speech at the ready, but you didn’t give him the chance, wordlessly letting him inside.

Maybe you were still riding the high of being praised by your boss, but you highly doubted anything Seokjin could say to you would kill your good mood. If he wanted to defend Yoongi’s honor, he was welcome to try.

Your initial impression of Seokjin was that he was boisterous, silly, and a little bit crude. As you sit across from him, all of that still seems to be true, although he seems intent on doing his very best impression of a longsuffering psychiatrist right now.

He sits primly in the armchair opposite the couch you’ve nestled yourself into, his hands steepled together in his lap as he pulls a serious face. It looks strange on him.

“I’d like to preface by saying that you and Yoongi are both being stupid.”

You blink at him, taken aback, until your expression settles into something unimpressed.

“Nice start,” you say flatly.

“You’re perfect for each other and why both of you are willing to throw it away so quickly is beyond me. It’s giving me a headache,” he continues, rubbing at his temples as if to prove his point. “I’m going to play mediator just this once, and then it’s up to you two to figure it out for yourselves.”

“Does Yoongi know you’re here?”

That makes Seokjin snort. “Are you kidding? He’d try to kill me,” he says, crossing his arms. “No, he doesn’t know I’m here. But he told me what happened, and I think there are some things you deserve to know.”

Yoongi told Seokjin what happened. You can’t help the scoff that escapes your lips. That’s nice for him. You don’t even know what happened. Yoongi certainly didn’t seem to feel obligated to clue you into his reasoning for ending things.

“Why doesn’t he tell me those things himself, then?” you ask bitterly.

“Because he’s stupid,” Seokjin says, snapping his fingers impatiently. “Keep up.”

“Okay,” you sigh, equally impatient. You’ve changed your mind. You want to get this asshole out of your apartment as soon as possible. “We’re both stupid. What is it that I deserve to know?”

“Yoongi-yah may be stupid, but he isn’t a bad person.”

You sit up straight at that. Is he joking? “What are you, his fucking character witness?”

“I’ve been his best friend for over a decade,” Seokjin snaps, clearly tired of your attitude. As if you aren’t justified in having one. “So if I am his character witness, I’m a pretty fucking good one.”

You open your mouth to say something, something venomous at the tip of your tongue, but Seokjin beats you to it, holding his hand up to silence you. “Can you just be quiet for five minutes and let me say my piece? Please?”

Huffing petulantly, you shrug and lean back into the couch, gesturing for him to continue.

Seokjin visibly regroups. You watch as he sits up a little straighter, shakes off the irritation, takes a deep breath.

“For as long as I’ve known him, all Yoongi has ever wanted was to make something of himself,” Seokjin starts, calmer now. “He loved making music, and he didn’t care about anything else. Least of all himself.”

“I got to know him when we were freshmen in college,” he continues. “I’d heard about him from classmates, seen him around, but you know Yoongi. He’s pretty tight-lipped about things, always has been. It’s one of his many faults.”

You scoff, your bitterness cutting through the air. No kidding. That’s how you ended up here, isn’t it? Yoongi’s little omissions, always giving half-truths. The real reason why he ended things with you is just another one to add to the list.

“Anyway,” Seokjin says, his eyes narrowing at you for a moment as he continues. “I was majoring in theatre, and I’d been cast in ‘Into the Woods.’ Yoongi was volunteered by his piano professor to help with the accompaniment, and during our first rehearsal I just remember thinking to myself, ‘who is this scrawny kid who can play Stephen Sondheim with his eyes closed?’”

You wish he’d get to the point already. You’re a sucker for a good backstory, you are. It’s what makes you such a good feature writer. But you’d really like to maintain your resolve in being pissed at Yoongi, if you can help it.

“I was so impressed with him, you know? He does that. He makes everything look so easy. I made it a point to get to know him, and he opened up to me surprisingly fast. I think he needed a friend,” Seokjin continues. “He told me that he was mostly there on scholarships, but he still had to work two jobs to live and pay off the tuition that he did owe. He told me that he utilized the fuck out of the production equipment on campus. He told me that all he wanted to do was make music, and for people to hear it and think it’s worth something.”

Seokjin pauses for a moment, shifting in his chair.

“I think he would’ve done anything to make that happen,” he says, tension in his voice. “I already didn’t like some of the shit he did do, the situations he put himself in, but I think if he knew it could’ve made his dream a reality, he would’ve done much worse.”

Seokjin doesn’t offer up any more information on what exactly Yoongi did, but he doesn’t have to. You gather by the grimace on his face that it must’ve been pretty bad.

“Obviously he made it anyway. You know who he is now,” he says, pausing for a moment. He looks at you seriously. “That comes with its own set of issues, though.”

“Like what?” you ask, disbelieving.

You feel bad for Yoongi, you do. At least for what he must’ve went through in the past. You know what it’s like to struggle, to feel like you can’t possibly reach your goals with the resources available to you. You’re experiencing that currently.

But Yoongi is extremely successful now. Artists trip over themselves to get a song from him because they know it’ll chart, that people will go crazy for it. His track record is that good. How hard can it be, living like that? Having people think so highly of you?

“Like people taking advantage of him at every turn,” he says, his words blunt. “People pretending to care about him to get close to him. Even going so far as dating him. Long-term. Or at least as long as it takes to produce an album.”

Oh.

“…Suran?” you guess, thinking back to the party Saturday night. The way Suran kept touching Yoongi, like there had been something there. Yoongi didn’t seem all that uncomfortable, but he’s got a killer poker face. Could Suran be that kind of person?

“What?” Seokjin asks, bewildered. “No, Suran was just a casual thing. He told you about Suran?”

“I met her. Saturday,” you say, waving a hand dismissively. “They seemed close.”

“That’s been done for years. Yoongi cares about Suran, but it isn’t like that anymore,” he insists, shaking his head. “It was someone else. It’s not my place to say who, but it’s the only time I’ve ever seen Yoongi in love like that. Or at all, honestly. He brought her around all of us, which is a big deal for him. Wrote songs for her. Like, not just for her album, but for her. About her.”

“What happened?” you ask despite yourself. You can feel your resolve crumbling, curiosity getting the best of you. Fuck.

“They were out celebrating finishing the album,” he says. “She wanted to go for a walk after dinner. Kissed him in the middle of the street. The next morning, he woke up to pictures of it all over the internet. She’d texted him, too, breaking it off. It didn’t take much brain power to figure out she orchestrated the whole thing.”

You feel a pang in your chest. As hurt as you are, you also know that Yoongi couldn’t have possibly deserved that. Nobody does.

“He threw himself into his work after that—almost never left the studio. Barely ate or showered,” Seokjin says. “I had to put a stop to it. He was going to overwork himself to death, if I didn’t. I had to help him dig himself out of that hole.”

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, doing your best to ignore how much that sounds like you. How Yoongi was the one beginning to dig you out.

“That sucks,” you say finally. “But I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Come on, Y/N. You’re smarter than that,” Seokjin huffs. Big talk from the man who’s been calling you stupid this whole time. “Yoongi hasn’t dated anyone since then. Hasn’t even shown interest. Until you.”

“That’s not what it was, between us,” you insist. “I thought, maybe…” Maybe it could’ve been, you think. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it. “But he ended it.”

“Because he’s stupid,” Seokjin says. “Because he got hurt, and it made him stupid, and when you asked him if he could get you an interview with Yijeong, he was scared that was your endgame.”

What?

Yoongi thinks you were using him? What the fuck????

“I wouldn’t—“ you start, but Seokjin cuts you off.

“Why do you think I’m here?” he asks, his gaze piercing through you. “You think I couldn’t tell you were going to fall in love with him the moment I met you? The moment I saw you two together?”

Your throat tightens and you have to tear your eyes away from Seokjin. Love is a big word. One you’re not quite ready to contend with, not now.

“…I like Yoongi,” you manage. You can admit that now, even if Yoongi himself never got the chance to hear it. “But just because he got hurt once upon a time, it doesn’t automatically make the way he ended things with me okay.”

“Just talk to him,” Seokjin pleads.

“Look, I listened to what you have to say,” you say, standing up from the couch. “And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t change some things. But I don’t know if I want to talk to him, okay? Maybe it’s better that it’s ended before we got anywhere serious, if we’re both so fucked up over the past.”

“Y/N—“

“Seokjin, I have work in the morning. I appreciate you coming over to tell me all of this, but I’d really like it if you left now.”

You don’t give him much of a choice in the matter. He’s overstayed his welcome. You make it abundantly clear that if Seokjin doesn’t use his own two legs to walk himself out of your home, you fully intend to grab him by the scruff of his neck and drag him out yourself.

Defeated, Seokjin stands up from his chair and makes his way to your front door. You follow close behind, shutting and locking it behind him before he can get another word in.

When you walk back to the couch, you catch Rina poking her head out into the living room.

Shit. You hadn’t even known she was home.

Wordlessly, you sink back into the couch, emotionally exhausted. Rina sits with you, repositioning you so your head is in her lap, running her fingers through your hair soothingly.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes, but you can practically hear the gears turning in Rina’s head. She’s been biting her tongue since Saturday night, being supportive when you needed it, but not pushing. But she was just in your bedroom that whole time, and Seokjin isn’t exactly quiet. You can only imagine what she heard. You brace yourself.

Finally, she breaks the silence.

“He can play Sondheim with his eyes closed?” she asks.

All of the tension seeps out of you at once. You should’ve known better. Of course Rina won’t push you in either direction. She’s your best friend, your Seokjin. Her loyalties will always be with you, and she knows that you need to process everything on your own.

But she’s also a theatre kid.

“Apparently,” you huff, closing your eyes.

“…That’s really hot.”

You laugh, reaching up to swat at her shoulder. “Not helpful.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks, her voice gentle.

That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What are you going to do? Seokjin made a strong case for Yoongi, but you’re still mad about how everything played out. You trusted Yoongi this whole time to be honest with you, but you keep being made aware, over and over, of how much he keeps to himself. You aren’t sure if you want to fight to be let in, if it’s worth it. You want it to be.

“I don’t know,” you say finally.

Rina hums, continuing to stroke your hair.

“...Do you wanna watch ‘Into the Woods’?” she asks.

You snort softly, sitting up to grab the remote.

“Only if it’s the one with Bernadette Peters.”

★ ★ ★

When Yoongi got his very first long-term gig as a producer, Namjoon brought him a potted plant as a studio-warming gift.

Yoongi thought it was stupid at first, because his studio didn’t have any windows—windows would compromise the integrity of the soundproofing—so the plant would have zero chance of survival. And why was Kim Namjoon buying him a plant anyway? New headphones would’ve been better, Yoongi told him.

But Namjoon had laughed and insisted that the plant—a dracaena, apparently—was extremely resilient. That it could still thrive in the darkness.

“That’s why I got it for you, hyung,” Namjoon had told Yoongi. “It reminded me of you.”

Needless to say, Yoongi became obsessed with the thing.

It was just a small little cutting, just barely starting to grow on its own, so Yoongi researched how to properly care for it and took all of the necessary steps to ensure it would succeed, even in his dimly lit studio.

He watered it, pruned it, measured its growth. He sent Namjoon pictures of it on a weekly basis. He named it—Eodumie, thank you very much.

It took a while, but eventually, Eodumie started to die. Yoongi didn’t know why, so he started doing research on dracaena. He’d put so much effort into helping it grow, so it only seemed sensible to figure out why things had taken a turn for the worse. Run into a problem, find a solution.

Yoongi very quickly found out that Namjoon was a little bit dumb, and that the only ‘plants’ that grow in complete darkness are mushrooms. But he still felt like he’d failed.

When Yoongi is really upset and can’t stop turning a problem over in his head, he resorts to extremely heavy-handed metaphors to help himself make sense of things.

So all of that is to say, Yoongi has a tendency to kill things before they have a chance to grow.

He thought, because you didn’t want a relationship, that you were safe from it. And you were, because he really was okay with being your friend. He didn’t expect any more from you.

But then you asked him if he wanted to have sex with you, and… Well, everything changed then, didn’t it? Not because he couldn’t keep things casual anymore—if that’s what you wanted, he would do it. He would try. You make it so hard for him to say no to you.

No, everything changed because Yoongi is an overthinker by nature. He’s attuned to the rhythm of the world around him, notices patterns where others don’t. Especially when he’s seen them before.

He gave you his mouth, and then you wanted more. He gave you more, and then you wanted a favor. He gave you your favor, and then Suran gave you his identity. You had your favor, and his identity, and then you were all over him, and Yoongi knows what happens next. He’s heard that song before.

Shit, Yoongi’s made that song before, unwittingly. And he’s not interested in writing another duet just for it to sour like the last one.

Metaphors, again.

The point is, he cut it off before he was in too deep. Sex complicates things. For him. It blurs the lines, and he’d much rather do you professional favors when he’s not also seeing you naked. It’s the only way he can keep being your friend, and that’s what you want.

Seokjin thinks he’s being an idiot. Seokjin can suck his cock. Yoongi was doing what he thought was right.

He hadn’t expected to hear from you. Over the past week he’d thought about reaching out and explaining himself every day. But he wanted to give you space, maybe. Or maybe he still felt a little sore about the whole thing. But then, Friday night, you text him asking him to come over and…

Now he’s in your apartment.

In all of the weeks he’s known you, Yoongi has never actually been inside your apartment before, he realizes. Is that weird? The closest he’d been was when he picked you up for the party on Saturday. When he’d lingered in your doorway, looking at you in your pretty dress. Fuck, you looked good. He didn’t want to go to that dumb party in the first place, but you in that dress… He wanted to drag you down the hall, get you in his bed. Take it off of you with his teeth.

It’s devastating that now that Yoongi is finally here, you seem so stiff in his presence. Quiet. Unlike yourself. You’re sitting as far as humanly possible from him on your couch, and Yoongi feels like an asshole. Even when you were literally a stranger, you didn’t feel like this much of a stranger to him. It was instant, the way you’d hit it off. Did Yoongi really make things this way?

“I read your article,” he says, cutting through the silence. Neither of you have spoken since he came in, and the tension is making him antsy. Desperate to break the ice.

What he doesn’t tell you is that he read your article the second it came out this morning, that he’s had alerts on his phone for everything published under your name since the day after he met you. That he drops everything to read it all, no matter what he’s doing.

It was beautiful. It was about one of his best friends, so of course he thought so, but you have such a way with words. It’s another thing you have in common, he thinks. You both have difficulty saying what you feel out loud, but when it comes to work, when you’re writing, it just pours out of you.

“You read my article,” you repeat softly, huffing. Yoongi can’t read the expression on your face, and that bothers him to no end.

“Of course I did,” he replies, brow furrowing in confusion. “I always do. Especially this one.”

“We need to talk,” you say. He watches as you turn your body on the couch, pulling your legs to your chest to face him.

“Okay.”

“I need to talk,” you suddenly correct, voice tight. You take a breath, and then, “Seokjin came over the other night.”

Seokjin… Oh.

Oh, Yoongi’s going to kill him. Brutally. He told Seokjin to keep his nose out of his fucking business and instead of listening and staying out of it, he came over to your apartment? Is he insane? Yoongi’s always thought so, in a mostly loving way, but this is a whole new level of intrusion that he didn’t think Seokjin was capable of, and now he has to die.

“He came here? He had no right—”

“It’s fine,” you say, waving a hand. Yoongi’s unconvinced, but he forces himself to settle, to take a breath. You said you needed to talk, and he’s going to let you. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was going to text you, so… It’s probably good that he did.”

Yoongi doesn’t see how that could possibly be the case, but he stays quiet. Waits for you to find the right words.

“This whole past week, I’ve been so… confused,” you start, your eyes fixed on the couch cushion between the two of you. “Confused, and mad at you.”

“I still am, I think,” you continue, lifting your head to look at him. “Mad at you. But I don’t want to be, because I miss you. You said that you still wanted to be friends, but you haven’t exactly put in much of an effort to do that.”

“I wanted to give you space,” Yoongi says. His excuse sounds hollow, even to his own ears.

You shake your head. “You don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that, I just—”

“Let me talk,” you snap, frustrated, and Yoongi’s mouth snaps shut so fast he can hear the click of it. “You don’t trust me, and that’s fine. I get it. But if me asking you for help bothered you so much, you could’ve just told me no instead of assuming that I was using you as some kind of stepping stone and then just breaking things off without explaining.”

There’s nothing Yoongi can say to that. He knows you’re right. He should’ve just said no the second he felt uncomfortable, but it was just so important to you he couldn’t bring himself to not help you.

“I get why your brain immediately went there, but I’m not going to apologize or act guilty or anything like that. Because I wasn’t using you,” you say firmly, crossing your arms. “Shit, Yoongi, all the times you’ve offered to help me I’ve tried to stop you. My car? But then the one time I come to you first, you assume the worst and shut me out. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Yoongi says, looking down at his hands. “I’m sorry.”

He feels like the world’s biggest piece of shit. For someone usually so observant, he suddenly feels like he’s been blind this whole time. You’ve done nothing but be upfront with him about what you wanted, and still he assumed you were pulling one over on him. He’s spent the past week feeling justified, feeling like he’d done the right thing, but your words have made his entire mindset shift in an instant.

“The night of the party, I…” you trail off. And then you laugh, which makes Yoongi look back up at you. “Yijeong told me I was special. He said that you hadn’t been to an industry event in years, even when he asked you to. I didn’t know that.”

“It was important to you,” he mumbles, sheepish. He didn’t know Yijeong had said anything about him to you. Looking back now, he realizes how stupid that is. His friends are all world-class meddlers. Clearly they need to be, if Yoongi’s this fucking dense.

“See? That right there,” you say, frustrated. “I thought, maybe… I thought you had feelings for me. Non-platonic, romantic feelings. And for the first time since my ex… Did I ever tell you what happened with him?” you ask.

Yoongi had read between the lines. He knew that your ex had a problem with how demanding your job was, and that it’d ended badly, but beyond that he doesn’t know any details.

He shakes his head.

“We were together for almost four years. Almost all through college,” you start. “He met my parents. I met his. After we graduated, we moved in together. In this apartment, actually.”

Yoongi watches you glance around your living room. He knows that look. Years later, he still remembers what his apartment, his studio looked like when they were occupied by someone else. He remembers every detail.

“I thought we were going to get married eventually. We’d talked about it.” You pull your knees tighter to your chest, looking down. “I got my first job at some shitty newspaper. I worked insane hours and it barely paid anything, but it was a start. I was over the moon about it.”

He holds his breath, waiting for what he knows comes next.

“He broke up with me after two months,” you say, your voice wavering. “He said it was because he barely saw me, that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with me if my job was going to be more important than us. It took him less than a week to move out. Four years down the drain.”

Fuck. It’s awful, watching you relive your pain and not being able to do anything but listen. Because Yoongi hurt you, too. He’s the reason you’re digging this up, that you’re feeling it all over again.

Yoongi looks down, picks at his left thumbnail as he listens. He can’t bring himself to look at you.

Your ex is an idiot, he thinks bitterly. How could someone spend four years watching the way you glow when you talk about writing and throw that away?

“I blamed myself. Why wouldn’t I? He told me it was my fault,” you say. “I haven’t been interested in a relationship since. Why try if I clearly don’t have time for it? The thought of you having feelings for me…”

He hears you suck in a breath, braces himself. He thought he’d done a good job of hiding how he felt about you, even after the sex. But he’d made you uncomfortable anyway. Of course.

“It made me want to try,” you say softly.

Yoongi’s head snaps up, his eyes meeting yours. It’s almost insane, the way his heart starts racing in his chest at just the slightest glimmer of hope. You realized how he felt—feels—about you, and you wanted to try? He wants to interrupt you, to ask what that means, but he holds his tongue.

“I think maybe I’ve had feelings for you this whole time,” you continue, looking down at your knees again. “And I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. But when Yijeong told me all of that… I mean, fuck, Yoongi. We weren’t even speaking and you read my article. You helped me even though you thought I was just using you to get ahead. When I hadn’t seen you for weeks, instead of thinking I was a bad friend, you offered up your studio so we could work in complete silence together.”

He would do anything. He would do anything to see you glow. That first night in that horrible Western bar you’d both been dragged to, the way you puffed up with pride when you told him where you work—that’s all he ever wants to see.

“I was going to tell you,” you say. “After the party, I was going to tell you. But then you ended things, and I… I didn’t know why.”

Yoongi needs to salvage this. He needs to know if there’s anything left, if you could ever forgive him for being such a stupid, prideful ass. He hopes.

“Y/N…” he starts, but you cut him off.

“You do this thing where you only give me half-truths about shit, and it drives me crazy,” you say, pointing a finger at him in frustration. “All of the secrecy about your job, who you are, how close you are to Yijeong, why you ended things with us. It seriously makes me want to kill you sometimes.”

You’re right. He prides himself on being an honest person, but he kept things from you on purpose. He didn’t want to let you in fully, to let you see him. He didn’t want to get hurt. But none of that was worth hurting you. He’s going to fix this. He’s going to try.

“Then let me clear some things up,” Yoongi says, sitting up straighter.

He scoots closer, closing some of the space between you on the couch.

Yoongi has never been good at talking about his feelings, not out loud. In songs that will ultimately be sang by other people, sure, but doing it like this makes him squeamish. He’ll get over it, though. You need to hear this.

“I’m an idiot,” he says seriously, looking into your eyes. “I’m an idiot for thinking you would do that to me. I was scared and stupid, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I assumed the worst of you, and that I kept things from you, and that I ended things so suddenly. My past isn’t an excuse. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I should’ve been more open with you, so I’m going to try. Okay?”

You nod once, and he takes it as his cue to continue.

“You were right,” he says, reaching to take one of your hands in his. He intertwines your fingers, staring down at them as he speaks. “About me having feelings for you.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath. He doesn’t know what that means, can’t bring himself to look at you until he’s done verbalizing all of this, but he hopes it’s a good thing.

“I was happy to be your friend,” he continues. “I didn’t expect anything more from you. But yeah, Y/N, I’d be crazy not to have feelings for you. You’re incredible, you know? You’re so smart, so driven, so insanely sexy. I was a goner the moment you introduced yourself to me with a handshake.”

You pull your hand from his, and for a moment he panics, until he looks up to see you using it to cover a tiny laugh. Your eyes are glassy, and although Yoongi hates the idea of making you cry, he feels relieved to know that it’s likely not out of sadness.

“I’m so, so sorry that I hurt you,” he reiterates, pulling your hand back into his and squeezing it. “I never meant to, but I did, and that’s not okay. But if I didn’t completely wreck my chances and you still want to try, I… I promise I’ll do better. I won’t keep things from you, I won’t act without considering your feelings, I’ll do better with all of it.”

You take another shaky breath, biting down on your bottom lip as you process his words. Yoongi feels like he’s going to have a heart attack, tense and pulled taut, but he waits patiently.

The ball is in your court now, Yoongi thinks. This is your decision, as it should be. If you want him to walk away, he will. If you want to stay friends, Yoongi thinks it might kill him now that everything’s out in the open, but he’ll do it for you. But he hopes—

“No more half-truths?” you ask softly, and holy shit.

“I promise,” Yoongi insists. He holds his breath.

“Then I still want to try.”

Relief washes over him instantly, all of the tension leaving his shoulders at once. He didn’t fuck everything up beyond repair. You still want him. Holy shit, you still want him!

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, squeezing your hand again. “Fuck, can I kiss you?”

“You better,” you say, and Yoongi doesn’t waste a goddamn second. Instantly, he’s moving your knees so he can fit himself between them, cradling your jaw to capture your lips with his.

God, you taste so good. He’s the luckiest motherfucker on the planet.

Yoongi is just happy to kiss you again, to know that you’re his now. But then you make a sweet little sound into his mouth, slide your hands under his shirt, and he pulls away to look at you.

“Baby,” he says, catching his breath. Shit, it feels so good to call you that again. “We don’t have to do anything right now.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask, pushing his shirt up impatiently. Cute. “After you left me hanging last time? In a suit, no less.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, grabbing hold of your wrists to stop your hands in their tracks. “I’m just saying, we don’t have to rush into anything just because—”

But then you shut him up with a kiss, which he melts into easily before you’re pulling back again. You look so serious. Yoongi likes you so fucking much.

“I want my boyfriend to fuck me,” you say, wriggling your hands out of his grip to keep feeling him up, and Yoongi is powerless to resist because fuck, boyfriend. “Is that too much to ask?”

He shakes his head dumbly, mouth agape. He’s your boyfriend. You said it.

You laugh, pinching his nipple, and Yoongi hisses as he’s yanked out of his reverie.

“Come on,” you tease, standing from the couch and pulling him with you. “Bedroom.”

Yoongi follows you to your bedroom eagerly, letting you drag him by the arm. You take a moment to shoo Pepper off of your bed and out of the room, shutting the door to keep her out, but Yoongi’s patience only lasts so long. As soon as the door is closed, Yoongi pulls you to your bed, laying you down on your back and kissing you breathless.

He slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting you as his hands slide over your ass to squeeze it. You moan in response, your hips kicking up against his, and he lifts his head to look down at you.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs lowly, his lips still brushing against yours. Yoongi thinks he’d give you anything you ask for, especially when you look so sweet and needy beneath him like this.

“Just want you,” you pant, chasing his lips for another kiss. He obliges easily, dipping down to lick into your mouth again.

A part of Yoongi wants to drag this out—really drag it out this time—and tease you until you’re desperate and whining, begging. A part of him wants to see how far he can push you, to make you fall apart so he can put you back together again over and over. But Yoongi’s also not feeling very patient, not when you’re like this. He feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t touch you right now.

You moan as Yoongi rips your shorts down your legs, arch your back as he slides his hand into your panties to feel you.

“Shit, Y/N,” he groans, sinking his middle and ring fingers into your pussy with no resistance. “Always so soaked for me.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper. God, he’s so addicted to that—the way you say his name when he touches you. If it wouldn’t make him sound like a headcase, he’d ask you to record it. Sneak it into his fucking songs. Let the world know how pretty you sound for him.

“Fuck yeah, let me hear you,” Yoongi murmurs. He sets a steady pace with his fingers, curling them up and thumbing at your clit, and you cry out for him, your face contorting with pleasure. Fucking addicting. “Sound so pretty, baby.”

“M-missed you calling me that,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you rock your hips up into his touch, and Yoongi’s more than happy to let you take what you need. “Missed the way you touch me.”

“It’s only been a week,” he teases, pumping his fingers faster as his free hand slides over your abdomen and up to your chest to roll a nipple between his fingers. “Am I that good?”

Despite your pleasure, you still reach out to swat at him blindly, and he laughs when your hand connects with his chest. “I hate you,” you complain weakly, but the way your core clamps down on his fingers tells him something else entirely.

“Nah. You like me.” He dips down to lick and suck at your other nipple, satisfaction buzzing through his veins when your hands thread through his hair, grasping at the strands. Yoongi can feel your urgency, can feel how close you’re getting for him in the way your muscles tense beneath him, and he quickens the pace of his fingers in response. “Come on, baby. You gonna come for me?”

“Shit, Yoongi—” you moan. Yoongi feels the tension in your body break, your pussy fluttering as his fingers pump inside of you, and he lifts his head to look.

You look so beautiful when you come. Fuck, he wants to commit everything about it to memory: the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part in a moan, your eyes shut tight as you just… take it.

“That’s it,” he groans, slowing the pace of his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm. “That’s my girl.”

After a moment, Yoongi withdraws his fingers, leaning down to kiss you gently. “Okay?” he asks when he sits up on his knees, studying your face as you catch your breath.

“Mmh,” you hum, nodding. Your body relaxes and you sigh, grinning. “More than.”

“Need a second?” he teases, grinning smugly at how fucked out you look already.

“Fuck that,” you say, catching him off guard when you suddenly sit up, surging forward to tug his shirt up and off faster than he can react. The second it’s off, you’re going for his pants next, impatient.

“Fuck, hold on,” Yoongi huffs breathlessly, amused as you struggle to push his pants down over his hips. He stops you, shifting off the bed for a moment to do away with them properly. “Eager, huh?”

“Can’t help it,” you say, laying back for a moment and lifting your own hips to shimmy your panties down your legs. Yoongi can’t help but stare, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he takes in the sight of you. So fucking pretty.

You grin, sitting up again and gently tugging Yoongi closer by the waistband of his underwear. “Yoongi,” you murmur sweetly, and he hums, transfixed by the sight of your hand moving to palm at him through the fabric. “I wanna ride you. Is that okay?”

He inhales sharply, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. He feels his cock twitch in your hand at just the thought of you on top of him, and you smirk. Damn. You’re the smug one now, huh?

“Are you sure?” Yoongi just needs to check. He wants to make sure that this is really what you want, but he’s already moving to shed the last barrier between you.

“Uh-huh,” you confirm, biting your lip as you glance down at his now-freed length, your hand wrapping around it and pumping him slowly. Fuck fuck fuck. Yoongi is not proud of the noise he makes, the pitch slightly higher than his normal timbre. If he doesn’t get inside of you soon he’s going to lose it.

Mercifully, you let go, your attention momentarily torn away as you shift off the bed to rifle through your bedside table. Yoongi moves to the head of the bed, sitting up against your headboard and taking a second to calm the fuck down. He wants this to be good for you, and if that’s gonna happen he needs to be able to not come as soon as you touch him, thanks.

When you return, condom in hand, all Yoongi can do is watch you as you tear the wrapper open, roll it onto his length. Wordlessly, you straddle him, his hands coming up to your hips to steady you.

“Good?” you ask, and Yoongi nods stiffly. He’s so good. How could he not be, with you in his lap like this? With what you’re about to do? You’ve completely turned the tables on him, and he’s so fine with that.

“Just—” he grits out, squeezing your hips gently. “Fuck, go easy on me, okay? I want it to be good for you.”

“It will be,” you assure him, reaching between his body and yours to guide the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Always is with you.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you. “Not if I come in two seconds like a teenager,” he points out.

“I’d consider it a compliment,” you tease. Yoongi inhales sharply as you sink down just the slightest bit, his eyes squeezing shut. He feels your lips on his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss there.

“I’ll go slow,” you tack on, and then you start to ease the rest of the way down slowly, stealing all of the breath from Yoongi’s lungs in the process.

“Shit,” he groans, his head falling back against the headboard. You moan softly once you’re finally fully seated on him, and he squeezes your hips to anchor you there, taking a moment to just look at you. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Yoongi’s words are rewarded with a pretty flush on your cheeks and your shy smile. “Shut up,” you mumble. His heart squeezes in his chest, a grin spreading over his face.

“I can’t tell my girlfriend how beautiful she is?” he teases, using his grip on your hips to encourage you to move, tearing sudden, simultaneous moans from both of you as he starts to guide you into a slow, steady rhythm. “How crazy she makes me?”

“You can,” you pant, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders, using them as leverage to follow his guidance. “Please,” you add, causing Yoongi’s lips to quirk up in a smirk.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your throat. His hands slide from your hips to your ass, groaning as he grips the flesh in his hands appreciatively. “Do you know how often I think about you? About this?”

“Tell me,” you whimper. You sound so desperate for it, for him, and Yoongi is completely awestruck by you. You’re always telling him exactly what you want, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t want to comply every fucking time. Anything for you.

“Can’t get you out of my head,” he moans into your neck. “You’re so fucking—god, you’re so sexy.” Your hips stutter, and he pulls a hand back to smack your ass once, wordlessly telling you to move a little faster. And you do. “So smart, so passionate. Can feel it in the way you write, but not just that. The way you talk about it, fuck, could listen to you forever.”

You moan, clenching around him, and Yoongi hisses, bucking up into you involuntarily. He’s not going to last much longer, he can feel it, but he can also tell plain as day that you’re just as close.

“Look so sexy riding me like this, too. I’m so lucky,” Yoongi says, sliding his hands over your body as he speaks. “This ass,” he says, gripping it in his hands again. “These tits.” Another squeeze, to your breast this time. “Fuck, your pussy. I could write chart-topping, award-winning songs about this fucking pussy.” One hand slides down, his thumb rubbing at your clit in tight circles. You keen, moaning his name. “How wet it gets for me. The way it tastes, how it feels around my cock. Fuck, Y/N. You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

“I’m gonna come,” you mewl, and Yoongi can’t help the growl that tears from his throat.

“Yeah, come on my cock, baby, fuck, I’ve got you,” he grits out, planting his feet firmly into your mattress for leverage as he fucks up into you. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips meet your ass, the backs of your thighs, setting an urgent pace.

“Fuck!” you moan. Yoongi must be doing something right, judging by the way your thighs start to shake, the way your whole body goes taut in his grip. “Fuckfuckfuckrightthere—”

It’s still true: Yoongi will never get tired of the way you look when you come. You just let go, shaking and moaning and digging your nails into his shoulders as you writhe above him. He did that. Fuck.

His rhythm gets sloppy quickly and he pulls you as close as he can as he thrusts up into you, his own orgasm quickly following. Stars burst behind his eyes as he spills into the condom, groaning into the crook of your neck as he slows to a stop.

You pull him into a kiss, both of you gasping into each other’s mouths as you recover. When you tear yourself away, Yoongi feels your hands cradling his face, and he opens his eyes to find you looking at him, exhausted from exertion but smiling.

“I think all of those things about you too, you know,” you mumble fondly, thumbing his cheek. Yoongi’s heart skips a beat. “It’s not just you.”

His hand comes up to rest over yours, a shy smile playing at his lips. “Guess we won’t get tired of each other any time soon.”

You laugh, carefully lifting up off of his lap. “No, I guess not.”

It’s hard to tear himself away from you, but Yoongi drags himself off your bed to dispose of the condom, navigating his way to your bathroom easily. Your apartment has the same layout, after all. When he returns, he uses one of your towels to wipe you down carefully.

Afterwards, he climbs into your bed with you, pulling you close, your head on his chest. For a moment, Yoongi tries to think back to the last time he felt this way, but he comes up short. Even in his last serious relationship, it didn’t feel this way. In the back of his head, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it until now, he always knew something was off about it. But this, being close to you like this, this thing you were both so scared of… It feels so right.

“Seokjin thinks we’re going to fall in love,” you say after a long moment, your voice quiet. Dangerous thing to say, Yoongi thinks, with your head on his chest like this, so close to his traitorous heart.

“Seokjin thinks a lot of shit. Says all of it out loud, too,” Yoongi murmurs into your hair, taking one of your hands to thread his fingers with yours. “What do you think?”

Yoongi knows what he thinks. He thinks he’s already more than halfway there. He thinks this… you and him could really be something. Not for the first time tonight, he holds his breath.

“I think he’s right,” you answer softly, lifting your head to look at him.

As Yoongi looks back at you—his wallflower, his neighbor, his music journalist friend, his beautiful, hardworking girl—all he can think about is that Western bar he didn’t want to go to. The one he was dragged to on some random Friday, not even a wellness check night. The one he could’ve easily said no to going to in favor of staying in his studio instead. Just another thing he owes his friends for, he thinks. This might be the best one, though.

He squeezes your hand.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”

★ ★ ★

EPILOGUE

You didn’t think you were going to make it.

Work has been busting your ass lately, and while you’re endlessly thankful that your career has suddenly taken a sharp turn for the unimaginable—interviewing Lee Chaerin, fucking CL up close and personal, are you joking?—you told Kevin that you had somewhere to be tonight. And that motherfucker still kept you in his office long past five to brainstorm next month’s edition.

Thankfully, you made it out with just enough time to make yourself look presentable in the mirror before making a dash for your car. Unfortunately, you had to forego running home to shower and change clothes, but you did wear a cute sweater and a flattering skirt to work today in anticipation of exactly that situation. Small mercies.

You’re late, definitely late enough for it to be rude, but Yoongi had insisted over and over that this was a completely casual thing.

You love Yoongi, but he’s totally full of shit. There’s nothing casual about meeting your boyfriend’s literal soulmates.

As you stalk towards the front door of the restaurant, you pray that you haven’t completely squandered your first impression before it even begins. Even Rina is making a better one than you—she showed up twenty minutes early. Backstabbing bitch.

Yoongi, ever the gentleman, meets you at the door.

“Will you relax?” he says, exasperated even as he leans in to kiss you ‘hello.’ When he pulls back, he flicks you on the forehead. Asshole. “You texted me your ETA like twelve times. While you drove. This is the furthest thing from a big deal.”

“Says you,” you grouse, slipping your arm into the crook of his elbow easily as he guides you inside. “These are your soulmates. They already love you. What if they hate me? What if they want to burn me at the stake?”

This past month with Yoongi has been nothing short of bliss. You’re both busy, both practically living in your respective workplaces, but sometimes you make time to visit him in his studio and work next to him in silence. Sometimes you come home to find him cooking dinner for you in your apartment and swapping stories with Rina. Sometimes you sleep in on weekends, wake up next to him and admire the softness of his features in the morning, the way Pepper curls up on his chest like he’s been around forever. It’s so good it makes you want to cry. Comfortable. Plus, there’s lots and lots of sex. Sex so good it makes you actually cry sometimes.

“They won’t,” he insists, keeping you close as he weaves through tables to guide you to the private room in the back. “They’ll love you, too. Maybe even more than me. You’re much easier to get along with.”

“That’s true,” you concede with a dramatic sigh, smiling at him fondly. He may be a grouchy hermit, but he’s your grouchy hermit.

When you reach the door of the private room, he stops. You can hear Seokjin’s windshield wiper-y laugh, even with the door closed. “You ready?” Yoongi asks, turning to you with a grin.

“No,” you mumble, pouting. When he runs his thumb over your bottom lip mockingly, you huff at him. “But I guess I have to be, don’t I?”

“Yep,” he says simply, dipping down to kiss you one more time. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. I love you, so they’ll love you, too.”

You hum, grabbing greedily at the front of his shirt to pull him down for one more kiss. “If you say so,” you murmur. “I love you, too.”

You smooth out his shirt and then do a full-body shake to ease your nerves, which makes Yoongi snort. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Yoongi nods, smiling at you fondly, gums showing. You’re damn lucky, you think, to be the one at the receiving end of those smiles. He loves you. It’s so fucking stupid how much he loves you, and how much you love him in return. It’s still new, still a little thing that both of you are learning how to nurture properly, but fuck it’s good.

When he opens the door, the noise of friends inside—both yours and his—filtering out into the restaurant, it’s that gummy smile still lingering in your mind that makes you take a step inside. That, and Yoongi’s voice in your head telling you it’s going to be okay. Because if there’s one thing you know beyond a shadow of a doubt after this past month, it’s that Yoongi will always be honest with you.

He squeezes your hand, and you step inside.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

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xxblairexxss · 2 years ago

Text

Subjectivity in art

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x artist!painter!reader

Theme : fluff

Requested!

This is so much fun to make thank you for the request, anon! 🩷

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

f1gossip has added to their story

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc and 528 others

ynusername 🖼️

username1 charles is so fast slow down no one’s beating your record as her 1st like 😆😂

username2 is she the new gf?

username3 he’s just liking her posts

username4 will you ever post your face

username7 can we see your face

username5 leave her alone guys

username6 you guys be attacking every girl he was ever rumoured to be with

charles_leclerc has added to their story

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc and 728 others

ynusername 🤍

charles_leclerc you are an art

username1 ariana what are you doing here

username2 i just know she’s gorgeous af

username3 the dresss is to die for

username4 so is charles looking at the art or he’s looking at you bcs i don’t think he even paid any attention to the work 😂

username5 how cute is it that charles went with her to the art gallery 🥹🥹

username6 charles come on how could you pull her with that horrible rizz 😤

ynusername has added to their story

charles_leclerc has added to their story

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc and 4290 others

ynusername the pancakes were yummy! username1 you are so talenteeed!

username2 i couldn’t even draw a straight line

username3 have you ever had your drawings in an art gallery?

ynusername one day, I wish! 🥹

username4 you are so talented!

username5 you are like living in a pinterest 🥰

charles_leclerc

Liked by joris__trouche, ynusername, and 1,825,386 others

charles_leclerc coffee and art makes her happy

ynusername You make me happy too!

username1 SHE’S BEAUTIFUL???

username2 i knew she was stunning even from her back

username3 you bagged her with that horrible rizz of yours? what did you even say? username4 She’s soooo prettyyyyyy though my heart is a little broken

username5 woah wasn’t expecting charles to be the one who upload her face

username6 finally! someone who is not an instagram model as a wag

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc a little celebration ❤️

username1 WHAT CELEBRATION?!

username2 y’all getting married?

username3 omg no slow down you proposed already???

username4 She slay every outfit 🥹🩷

username5 I need her wardrobe 😩

ynusername

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ynusername I don’t really want to post this but my boyfriend said I look pretty in white 🤍

username1 and your boyfriend is right you look the prettiest in white

username2 are you getting married to your boyfriend

username3 ppl need to chill not you guys assuming they are getting married just because she’s wearing a white dress??

username4 they are just on a date like normal couple what’s the big deal

username6 I loveeeee your outfitss!

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc and 5285 others

ynusername Had my first work to be displayed at an art gallery in Paris! 🤍✨

username1 Lol charles probably had something to do with it 🙄

username3 get the fuck off

username2 omg you deservedd itt! 🥹

username4 WELL DESERVEED! 🩷

charles_leclerc So proud of you, my love ❤️

username5 need the tutorial on the hair

charles_leclerc

Liked by arthur_leclerc, ynusername and 1,995,427 others

charles_leclerc the proudest boyfriend

ynusername I love youu!

username1 living the pinterest boyfriend life

username2 parentssss 🩷

username3 it’s just so obvious how in love charles is based on the photos he uploaded

username4 the second pic?!?! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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eriochromatic · 5 days ago

Note

What are your thoughts on what Silco was like before Vander tried to drown him? I'm seeing these takes on the Silco tag that he was always a bad person and not a real revolutionary, but I don't think that's true. The flashbacks suggest he was coming from a sincere place but became selfish, paranoid, and power hungry (controlling) post-fallout.

LOL I mean you're asking a Silco artist (who specifically likes drawing him in domestic settings) what they think about Silco. so like. no he's not a bad person to me haha.

Of course I'm in the camp that his actions were sincere, perhaps I'm a being a bit generous but I think his actions in s1 are still consistent with that sincerity of wanting undercity independence. We never know exactly what he was going to do once he got his nation of Zaun, so that can be left in the Schrodinger's box of interpretations, positive or negative. But he pretty much agreed to all of Jayce's non Jinx demands like stopping shimmer production and giving hextech back to Piltover. You could even argue that he didn't push back on the blockade that much because he knew he was close to getting independence and could temporarily stop shimmer trade. He specifically says "Jinx will deal with [the blockade]" which is a bit strange bc its not like Jinx is known for her diplomacy LOL. But I think it's because he knows Jinx is currently building a hextech weapon, and the blockade truly won't be an issue once they can just blast through it with Fishbones. Also, that entire scene was clearly there to indicate that unlike the other chem barons who can only see temporary solutions to fix their trade issues, Silco's underlying motivations are still Zaunite independence, not selfish capitalistic gains. Like, Finn clearly did not fucking understand how much power Zaun now has with the hex crystal, he was only focused on blockade hurting his own business.

Honestly calling Silco selfish is the weirdest take to me because the only selfishness we see him display is in relation to Jinx, and his possessiveness is more of a fear of abandonment than actually wanting to control her imo. I guess makes sense ppl might think of Silco that way since we see Silco most often in relation to Jinx, so that colors ppl's opinions. But if you take in account all the scenes that have nothing to do with Jinx… idk I find he's more lenient than the non-Silco fandom makes him out to be. Act 1 his ill will towards Vander was because of ideological and not personal reasons- he was willing to take Vander back if Vander supported Silco's ways. like. thats kind of insane to me. Silco already forgave Vander for ATTEMPTING TO MURDER HIM but was like "you know what's actually unforgivable? you becoming an enforcer bootlicker" idk how much more you can do to show that Silco isn't really motivated by personal selfish reasons (until Jinx came into his life) but revolutionary ones. And honestly I think he himself did not realize how much he loved Jinx until she nearly died, I don't believe for a second he was trying to manipulate her at any point in time. He's just a broken person trying to fix another broken person but like there's a reason why you gotta wear the oxygen mask first before helping your kid, I don't blame him for unintentionally pushing his trauma onto Jinx since it's not like there's therapy in Zaun

So yeah like. I see Silco in a very sympathetic light LOL, flawed and misguided perhaps but doing what he believes is necessary for success… you could argue that under Vander's leadership they would've just continued to be under Piltover's heel forever and Silco at least got something done idk. so I definitely see flashback Silco as someone who's even less culpable of whatever crimes he commits later on, he probably still has a bit of that youthful naivety and hope before the bridge incident fucked everything over lol. and I mean. as much as s2 was a mess, it unfortunately is canon. s2e7 Silco is clearly a well adjusted individual, if he really was a "bad person" I don't think the show would bother showing him in that AU.

Ultimately though I think people see what they want to see, if they already have a bad impression on him the flashback won't do him any favors, they'll just fit his actions into the box they've already given him.

Slight side tangent, there's a visual novel called Umineko (WHICH I THINK EVERYONE SHOULD READ, IT SHOULD BE REQUIRED READING), and a big theme in the story is "Without love, it cannot be seen," and that has really influenced the way I interact with characters in fictional narratives.

Obviously I love Silco as a character, I wouldn't be spending all this time drawing him if I didn't, and I've probably spent more time thinking about him than the average Arcane viewer. If a person watches Arcane and doesn't like Silco, I won't be surprised they come out of it with a surface level understanding of him without really diving deep into his motivations and actions. It's actually pretty funny because the friend that got me into Arcane was one of those Vi stans whose perception on him was on the more negative side but bc I yapped about him so much they've switched over to seeing the more positive side of him. And I mean same with me and Vi, I don't think I would like her as much as I do if it wasn't for that friend haha

#erio stuff #silco #sorry i love talking about him can u tell

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scoonsalicious · 1 month ago

Text

3/Unsized, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Pocket!Reader

Summary: Family is complicated. Family is messy. Family is what you make it.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, poorly translated Russian AND Italian (we're branching out!), Reak Talk, fluff, jealous!Bucky, mention of sexual situations.

Word Count: 3.6k

Previously On...: When it comes to a future with Bucky, you're still harboring some insecurities and one big secret.

A/N: This chapter had to be broken into two parts, as I let it get away from me. I wrote all you see before you without even gettitng to the point of what I wanted this chapter to be about, lol, so more to come!

Banner by my beloved @mrsbuckybarnes1917; poor recolor by me.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You strolled leisurely through the streets of Brooklyn, Bucky’s vibranium arm draped lovingly over your shoulder, his fingers entwined with yours. The morning had been spent running wedding errands—officially as Pepper’s Maid of Honor, but in truth, you were Tony’s errand-running bitch more often than not.

Not that you minded in the least. You’d do anything for Tony Stark (though you’d rather have your arm re-broken than admit it out loud). Spending the day outside in the sunshine with your boyfriend, dropping off the florist deposits, final invitation proofs, and sketches for the life-size chocolate Iron Man Tony had insisted on to the chocolatier, wasn’t a bad trade-off.

“I think the only reason Pepper agreed to that monstrosity in the first place,” Bucky said, licking his fingers clean of the last of the candy samples the chocolatier had sent out the door with you, “is so that she can ceremoniously chop its head off.”

You laughed in agreement. “He better be grateful that thing’s not anatomically correct, then.” You flashed Bucky a mischievous smile. “Who knows what might happen if she gets carried away? Lord knows he’s pissed her off enough times.”

“Don’t go gettin’ any ideas now, doll,” Bucky teased, pulling you closer planting a kiss on the side of your head. “I’ll have to start worryin’ about you choppin’ parts off a chocolate Bucky at our wedding.”

You pulled away, mock disbelief on your face. “Oh, our wedding, huh? Pretty presumptuous for a guy who’s never even properly proposed.”

Bucky grumbled good naturedly, sliding his arm from your shoulder to your waste. “How many times does a guy have to tell his girl he wants to marry her before she takes him seriously?” he asked, tickling your side through the thin fabric of your lavender sundress.

Squealing, you tried to wriggle free, but he caught you, nuzzling into your neck. “He’s only gotta ask her once” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck, “if he does it right to begin with.”

“Oh, I’ll do it right,” he promised, his lips brushing yours. “And trust me, doll, when the question comes, you’ll know it’s the real deal.”

You raised a playful brow, glancing pointedly at the empty ring finger on your left hand.. “You keep saying that, and yet…”

Bucky grabbed your hand and quickly pulled it to his mouth, nipping on the inside of your wrist. “Like I said, doll, you gotta trust me.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. Trust him. Once, you thought you’d be able to trust him again, but now…

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” you asked, studying his face.

Bucky’s smirk softened. “Like a heart attack, sweets.” He hesitated, concern flickering in his eyes. “You still doubt me?”

“No.” Your voice was quiet, but certain. You jostled into him as someone brushed by, and he steadied you with a hand on your waist. Guiding him off to the side, you leaned against the building, away from the bustling sidewalk.

“No, baby, of course not. I just…” You blew out a puff of air as you took his hands in yours. “Wow. It’s just… Talking about it in the hypothetical’s been one thing, but knowing you’re actually making plans? That’s something else.”

He frowned as he gently extricated his hand from yours and reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Is that a bad thing, doll?”

“It’s a great thing,” you clarified in a breathy whisper, leaning into his touch. “It’s the best thing, I promise. I just… I just don’t want to fuck it up. I’m so scared I’m gonna fuck it up.”

“Doll,” Bucky let out a relieved chuckle as he pulled you into him, wrapping his body so perfectly around yours, as though it had been made to fit. “Don’t you think I’ve already fucked up enough for the both of us? I think we’ve already more than met our fuck-up relationship quota.”

“Stop,” you pleaded, laughing into the hard plains of his chest. “I’m trying to be serious and vulnerable and shit.”

Bucky’s hands ran comfortingly up and down your spine. “So am I,” he said, his tone warm. “I didn’t deserve a second chance from you, after everything that happened, but you gave me one. I wanna spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret that decision.”

You slipped your hands around his waist under the buttery leather of his jacket and squeezed gently. “I love you,” you told him. “I love you so much, and when you do ask me to marry you, I’m gonna say yes.”

Bucky let out a relieved exhale. “You mean that, doll?” he asked, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him. “You’ll marry me? For real?”

“Absolutely,” you leaned back so you could look up at his face. The smile he wore was absolutely breathtaking in its joy. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him look as unabashedly happy as he did in this moment. “Or, at least, I will when you actually propose to me,” you clarified, giving him a mischievous smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” he said with a groan, leaning down to take your lips in his. The kiss flowed over and through you, warming you from the inside out, until your entire body was tingling with the heat of it, but before you could allow yourself to get caught up in it, a sobering thought came over.

“Oh my god, have you talked to Tony yet?” you asked, gripping the lapels of his jacket. While Tony and Bucky had been playing nice over the last year, you weren’t sure how he would react if he thought the two of you were actually going to get married.

Bucky grinned knowingly. “I didn’t realize you were such an old fashioned girl,” he teased. “Should I negotiate the terms of your dowry while I’m at it? Get us a couple of fat cows and a goat to start our life together?”

You gnawed on your bottom lip in a failing attempt to stave off your grin. “Surely you can convince him to throw in at least one pig with that,” you countered. “I know for a fact you can be very persuasive when you want to be.” You playfully nipped at the juncture of his jaw and his neck.

Bucky slipped his hands between your sundress and the denim jacket you wore, sliding his fingers along the line where the fabric met the skin of your back. “I doubt he’s as susceptible to my powers of persuasion as you are, doll,” he teased.

“Probably not,” you conceded, but your voice turned a bit more serious as you continued to speak: “but he’s the closest thing to actual family I’ve got,” you told him, a whisper of sadness on the edge of your voice. “I’m not saying I want you to, like, ask his permission or anything, because, you know… ew, but I really would like him to be onboard. To be happy for us.”

“Aside from Pepper, there’s no one on this planet more important to Tony than you,” Bucky said reassuringly. “If you’re happy, he’ll be happy. That’s all there is to it.”

“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” you told him, pulling him toward you until there was no space left between you.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Then we don’t have anything to worry about,” he said, grinning. “Because I am happy. And I promise, I’ll make sure Tony’s happy, too.”

“Thank you,” you murmured into his chest. You’d had hopes, once, that Bucky and Tony might have been able to forge some kind of relationship– if not one born from any kind of affection, then from at least a mutual love of and respect for you, but that hope had been dashed after you’d gotten shot.

“I’ll tolerate him for your sake, Kiddo,” he’d said to you when you’d told him you’d decided to work on rebuilding your relationship with Bucky. “But I’m not going to be able to just up and forgive him.”

“You managed to forgive him for your parents, though,” you’d said to him tentatively. “And he wasn’t even the one who pulled the trigger on me.”

Tony’d swallowed his gaze somewhere far away. “Yeah,” he’d said “but he wasn’t in his right mind back then. And they weren’t you.”

“Not that I wouldn’t mind standing here holding you all day, doll,” Bucky said, taking you from your thoughts after a long moment, “but we’ve got to get to the jeweler’s before they close.”

You stepped back and looked up at him, a wave of panic coming over you that you were sure was noticeable on your face. “I thought you said you were making plans! Not that you had plans! Least of all jewelry store plans!”

“Calm down, sweetheart,” Bucky said, kissing the top of your head with a laugh. “Did you forget that last stop we have to make for Stark?”

You exhaled, embarrassed at your mini-freakout. In all the talk of a future with Bucky, you’d forgotten the purpose of your current task for Tony– to have his mother’s wedding band set resized for Pepper. The ring was meant to be a surprise, and since you and Pepper wore the same size, you were the perfect stand-in for this little bit of subterfuge.

“I very much did,” you admitted with a sheepish smile. “What can I say, Barnes? You’ve got me all twitterpated.”

Bucky pursed his lips, taking your hand and leading you down the sidewalk again. “Doll,” he purred, “you know what you do to me when you use ‘40s slang. We’re in public, for cryin’ out loud.”

“Тебе нравится больше, когда я говорю с тобой на русском?” you asked him, your voice dripping into something sultry. Do you like it better than when I speak Russian to you?

Bucky shook his head, pouting slightly. “Нет, никогда.” No, never.

Arriving at the jeweler’s a few minutes early, you were greeted by a man behind the counter who invited you to browse while the jeweler finished things up on a piece he was currently working on in the back. The place was a hidden gem–an artisan’s studio/showroom run by the grandson designer of Tony’s mother’s ring. From the outside, it was unassuming, but inside, it showcased some of the most exquisite (and undoubtedly expensive) pieces you’d ever seen.

You hummed appreciatively as you traced your fingers over the glass of the display case, admiring the intricate filigree and glittering gemstones. Of course, nothing had a price tag. You’d been in Tony’s orbit long enough to know that if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it.

“See anything you like?” Bucky’s voice was warm as he rested his chin on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Just, you know, in case I ever wanted to get you a Labor Day present or something.”

You turned to give him a skeptical look. “A Labor Day present?”

“Or something,” he repeated, nudging your cheek with his nose.

You snorted out a laugh that felt entirely out of place among such elegance. “Classy,” he teased, swaying you slightly in his arms.

“Everything’s beautiful,” you admitted with a wistful sigh, “but nothing here feels like me, you know?” Bucky hummed, his chin still on your shoulder. The sound vibrated pleasantly through you. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I get that. You play in Tony’s world, but you don’t live in it.”

“Exactly.” You turned to face him, smiling at how easily he understood you. “It’s like, I’m always gonna see myself as that girl from the trailer park in Ohio. Jewelry, fancy cars, designer clothes… it was all so far out of reach, I never even dreamed of it. It’s not what I grew up wishing for.”

Bucky’s face softened in understanding. Growing up during the Depression, he knew what it was like to see even the basics as unattainable luxuries. “What did you wish for, doll?” His voice was quiet, almost reverent.

You chuckled, though it came out a bit hollow. “Well, aside from the obvious…” Bucky nodded, understanding what you didn’t say–that you wished you hadn’t been trapped and trafficked. “I wanted things like getting a real education; not having to teach myself with whatever books I could get at the library. Being allowed to go to school. Having friends. God, I wanted friends so badly. Getting out and never having to worry about looking over my shoulder again.”

You exhaled, steadying yourself. “When you’re just trying to survive,” you said, “shit like this doesn’t matter. It’s just stuff.”

Bucky pressed a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, grounding you. “If you had to have one piece of jewelry,” he said, a teasing edge creeping into his voice, “let’s say, a ring, just as a random, hypothetical example with no bearing in actual reality, whatsoever, what would you want it to look like?”

You smiled, happily leaning into the game. “Well, speaking strictly hypothetically,” you said tapping your chin in thought, “I think I’d want something vintage. Antique. Maybe Art Deco.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Why not?” You shrugged, reaching up to tweak his nose. “I happen to have a soft spot for old, worn down things.”

“I’ll show you old and worn down,” Bucky said, his voice dropping dangerously low. Your heartbeat sped up as you stood on your toes, reaching for him with your lips.

Before you could connect in what you just knew would be a fiery kiss, Bucky’s phone rang.

“Fuck,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. “Lemme let it go to voicemail.”

You licked your lips, gently pushing him back. “Answer it,” you told him. “Could be ‘Very Important World Saving Business’. Besides…” You leaned in conspiratorally. “If we got started, we both know it’d only be a matter of minutes before you had me bent over one of these display cases, fucking me raw on top of all these diamonds.”

Bucky swallowed hard, the tips of his ears turning a delightful shade of red. “And now I have to take this outside,” he muttered, retreating with his phone in hand, “because I definitely can’t look at you and talk to someone at the same time with that image in my head.”

You grinned, waving cheerfully as he stepped out the door, his phone already to his ear. Was it mean to tease him so badly? Yes. Did you enjoy the fuck out of seeing him get all worked up? Also, yes.

No sooner had he left than a voice from behind the counter called out to you. “You are the Stark appointment?”

Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with an impossibly handsome olive-skinned man emerging from the back room. Italian, if you had to hazard a guess. He had a messy head of black curls that seemed to keep falling into a pair of hazel eyes with thick, dark lashes that gave him an effortlessly suave air, accentuated by a slightly aquiline nose that looked like it might have been broken once before; and his lips were sensuously full, with a pronounced cupid’s bow that would meet even Hawkeye’s exacting standards.

You admired him the way you would admire a slice of Tiramisu– it looked positively delicious, and perhaps you would be tempted to take a bite… if you hadn’t already been utterly satiated by the most decadent, rich layered dark chocolate mousse you’d ever hope to have in your entire life. Thank you, but you couldn’t possibly; you had already overindulged.

“Hi, yes.” You extended your hand. “I’m Pocket.” You retrieved the box with Tony’s mother’s ring from your bag. He’d offered to send you with a full security detail but, you figured, if the Winter Soldier couldn’t protect the ring from would-be thieves, nothing could, especially when it was being transported by something he found infinitely more valuable. “I’m here to have this resized.”

The man ignored the box and took your hand instead. “Marco Palombini,” he offered, his accent rich and lyrical.

“Italiano?” you asked excitedly. It wasn’t very often you had the opportunity to practice this particular language skill set of yours.

Marco’s eyes lit up. “Sì! La mia famiglia è di Sabina, appena fuori Roma. E la tu?” Yes! My family’s from Sabina, just outside of Rome. Yours?

“Oh, no,” you replied with a laugh. “Sono americana.” I’m American.

“Davvero?” He looked skeptical. Really? “Allora ci sarai stata parecchio, no?” You must have spent a lot of time there, then, yeah?

You shook your head; it was one place your business responsibilities had yet to bring you. “No, non ci sono mai stata. Però ho sempre voluto andarci, soprattutto a Roma.” No, never. But I’ve always wanted to, especially Rome.

Marco’s gaze softened. “Beh, sono sicuro che Tony Stark non negherebbe alla sua fidanzata bella una luna di miele nella Città Eterna.” Well, I’m sure Tony Stark wouldn’t deny his beautiful fiancée a honeymoon in the Eternal City.

“Dio, no!” you snorted. God, no! “Non sono la fidanzata di Tony. Sono qui solo perché io e lei abbiamo la stessa misura di mani.” I’m not Tony’s fiance. I’m just here because she and I have the same sized hands. You opened the box with Tony’s mother’s ring and slid it across the glass countertop, suppressing a laugh at the absurdity of being mistaken for Tony’s betrothed. The thought was hilariously, ludicrously gross.

Marco’s expression lightened considerably as he tilted his head, a sly smile forming. “Beh, non è una fortuna, allora?” he asked, taking your hand and tracing the lines of your palm with his fingers. Well, isn’t that lucky, then?

Before you could politely extract your hand, a familiar, steadying presence loomed behind you. “Everything good, sweets?” Bucky’s voice held a subtle edge, a clear sign of his displeasure at the sight of Marco’s hand lingering on yours.

“Hey, baby,” you said, fighting the smile that threatened to break through at his obvious jealousy. Sliding your free hand around Bucky’s waist, you rested your head against his side, silently reinforcing that you were unmistakingly his. “Mr. Palombini was just about to measure my finger for the resizing.” You flashed Marco a friendly smile and nodded for him to continue.

Marco’s expression faltered briefly at Bucky’s towering presence, but he recovered quickly, resuming his professional demeanor. He retrieved a set of finger-sizing gauges, slipped one onto your finger, and adjusted it a few times to ensure a perfect fit before jotting down notes in his ledger.

“Should take about ten days,” he said briskly. Moving to the register, he typed up a form, signed it, and handed it to you along with a pen. “Sign here and bring your copy when you pick up the ring.”

“Anyone who has the receipt can come pick up the ring, right?” Bucky asked, his tone pointed as he leaned slightly closer to the counter. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be her?”

You pinched his side lightly, though it was a challenge to find anything but solid muscle. “Behave,” you murmured under your breath.

Marco didn’t flinch, handing you the signed receipt with a calm, professional smile that bordered on smug. “No,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to Bucky. “We will only release the ring to the person who signed the receipt. Company policy.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow as you tucked the receipt into your wallet. “So, you mean to tell me,” he began, “that if Tony Stark himself showed up with his receipt, you wouldn’t give him his own ring back?”

Marco leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed. “We will only release the ring to the person who signed the receipt,” he repeated, his smirk faint but unmistakable.

You rolled your eyes, deciding you’d had enough machismo for one afternoon. “Great,” you said, taking Bucky’s hand in yours. “Let us know when it’s ready, and we’ll be back to pick it up.”

As Bucky held the shop door open for you, Marco’s voice rang out behind you. “Bella donna!” he called, a mischievous lilt in his tone. You glanced over your shoulder to see him wink. “Quando torni, magari potrei interessarti a un tour privato di Roma!” When you come back, maybe I can interest you in a private tour of Rome!

Shaking your head with a mix of exasperation and amusement, you stepped outside, Bucky right behind you.

“What did he say to you?” Bucky asked, his tone deceptively calm.

“Oh, nothing much,” you replied lightly. “Just invited me to run away to Rome with him.”

Bucky frowned as he took your hand in his. “Not funny, doll.”

“I’m totally serious,” you told him. Bucky stopped abruptly in his tracks, pulling you to a halt. “Hey–” you began.”

“That son of a bitch!” Bucky growled, turning slightly as though he were about to march back inside. “I’m going to–”

“You’re not going to do anything,” you said, gently tugging on his hand to redirect him forward. “He was being a shameless flirt. He’s Italian. It’s practically in his DNA.” Your attempt at humor didn’t seem to land, judging by the dark look on Bucky’s face. “The only thing that matters,” you added more seriously, “is that I’m not into it. I’m into you.”

Bucky sighed and ran a hand haphazardly through his hair. “I know, sweets,” he said. “I’m just not…”

“Not used to being the jealous one for a change?” you teased, swinging his hand in yours as you walked. “Trust me, I know, it’s no fun, which is why I’m being nice and not letting you stew in it.”

Bucky huffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Well, thanks for that, I guess.”

You grinned, leaning into him as you walked. “You’re welcome, Barnes. Besides, you’re prettier to look at than he is, anyway.”

The small, satisfied smile on Bucky’s face as he pulled you closer was all the reassurance you needed.

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macabr3-barbi3 · 10 months ago

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Hey! I saw your oneshot requests post on AO3. I hope I'm not I'd love to make a request, hope I'm not too late! Could you please write a oneshot with Alastor catching the reader masturbating and give him a breeding kink? It's cool if you're not into it though and would only prefer to write Alastor catching the reader before having sex, lol. *gives you a massive smooch on the forehead* thank you smm

did I go a little crazy with this? maybe. I had fun though, that's what matters! I struggled a little with the breeding kink part but I hope you still like it, anon! <3

Tags: vaginal sex, possessive sex, masturbation, biting, a bit of scratching (I like Al's claws what can I say)

2.4k words

<3<3<3<3<3

Another shitty day in Hell, you think to yourself, coming home from the shit job you held at the news station. You’d think Katie Killjoy could get her own fucking coffee and fetch her own scripts from the producers but no- she needed you to do it so she could spew shit down your throat when her day wasn’t perfect. Which, you know, it was Hell- every day was shit.

You collapse back onto your bed, limbs tense and head pounding. Katie just never shut the fuck up and her shrill voice sounded like a dentist drill in your head. You’d kill a man to be able to relax- it wouldn’t be the worst thing you had done in Hell. But it had been a long time since you had done anything like that; not since Alastor had disappeared.

Alastor. Even now, thinking his name brings a pulsing heat to your core.

In hindsight, of course, trading your soul to the Radio Demon for your boyfriend’s to be free had been stupid. So, so stupid, and you realized it as soon as the bastard had broken up with you to fuck off to another area of Pentagram City. Leaving you and your soul in the clutches of one of the most dangerous Overlords that Hell had ever seen. Your job was simple at least- you spent time with Alastor in Cannibal Town almost as an assistant for a while, managing his schedule (when he could be bothered to follow it), checking in on other souls he owned (when he cared enough to check on them), and just generally being at his beck and call.

You were perhaps the tiniest bit infatuated with him at the time. You did whatever he asked of you- his tasks and errands, his housework, the organization of his radio studio when he got too into ripping someone apart. It wasn’t long until he was asking you to assist him with the deed, pushing a blade of angelic steel into your hands and guiding you towards a rapidly beating heart.

The way he had said “good girl” that day lived inside your head, would twist wickedly around your thoughts when you were trying to focus on anything.

It did now as well, and despite the fact that you hadn’t seen the demon in seven years- having just up and vanished one day- it still held the same power. Your heart raced, cheeks flushed, and you could feel yourself growing damp between your legs at the thought. You didn’t allow yourself to indulge in the memories often, but today felt like an especially shitty one. You think you could be forgiven thinking inappropriately about your old boss long enough to get a quick orgasm in before passing out for the day.

With a quick glance to the window, just to make sure the curtains were drawn, you slide your fingers under the band of your panties and run your fingers through the slickness that you find, gently circling a finger over your clit and huffing out an exhale at the sensation. Thinking of Alastor never failed to make you a mess, pleasure curling in your brain and your gut. It was a wonder you had managed to work for him so long without trying to make a move but he had always seemed so uninterested in anyone else when they tried. You wouldn’t imagine that you were special enough to change his stance on that, but your imagination wasn’t hurting anyone.

You shift on the bed, raising your hips up far enough to slide your bottoms off and shove them to the side. You freeze when you hear something that sounds like a creaking door, but brush it off as something from a lower floor, bringing your other hand under the covers.

One rubbing lightly at your clit you let your other hand reach further, slipping first one finger and then a second into the wet warmth of your pussy. You whimper and close your eyes, wishing that your fingers were longer, wishing someone else was at the other end of them and causing the stretch.

“Good girl.”Alastor’s voice slithers like a tendril through your mind, and you can’t help the groan that tumbles from your lips in the darkness of the night. “Alastor,” you breathe out, indulging yourself, the sound barely audible. It’s going to be over too quickly but you’re too wound up to care, the thought of the Radio Demon alone threatening to send you hurtling over that edge.

“Yes, darling?”

You yelp at the shock of his voice, not just in your head but echoing in the room. Eyes flying open, impending orgasm fading, you see his eyes glowing in the darkness of a corner, his grin coming into view as he steps into the faint light of your bedside lamp. “A-Alastor. What are you doing here?”

He had been gone for seven years. What were the chances he would show up here? Now?

“Can an Overlord not simply pop into the home of a soul in their possession when they choose?” He steps closer, head cocked to one side as he looks at you, and you realize that your hands are still fucking touching yourself and you rip them out from under the blanket. “I must say, this is quite the welcome home.”

“I- I didn’t-” He crouches at the end of the bed and your brain stops working for a moment. “I obviously wasn’t expecting you-”

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound quite like the truth! You said my name, did you not?” When you falter his grin widens, reaching a hand out and snatching the blanket away, exposing your bare skin to the room. “My my, what do we have here?”

“Oh god- Alastor, I’m so sorry,” you say, and try to scramble up the bed away from him before he wraps a hand around your ankle and yanks you back down. Your heart is pounding, threatening to beat straight out of your chest with the look that he’s giving you.

He gives a hum of acknowledgment. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, darling,” he murmurs, trailing his fingers up your leg to settle on your thigh. “Except, perhaps, starting without me. Do tell, did you miss me terribly while I was gone?”

You open your mouth to speak and all that can escape is a choked out moan when he slicks his fingers through the wetness he finds between your thighs. “That’s not quite an answer but I suppose it can be forgiven.” Miraculously blunt, he presses a digit into you, followed quickly by another as he shifts so he’s crouched above you, face a mere breath away from yours.

“A- Alastor, fuck,” you manage to gasp out. “Where have you been?” It should be the farthest thing from your mind when he’s got those dexterous fingers inside you, stretching and preparing you for something more if the bulge in his trousers is anything to go by.

Alastor shrugs, “oh you know, just here and there. Doing a bit of this and that.” Eyes lidded he takes in your form beneath him. “Nothing quite so interesting as what I’ve stumbled onto here.” His free hand fumbles with his belt buckle, the clinking of metal drawing your eyes to his exposed erection in his fist. “Won’t you show me how you’ve missed me?”

In answer you lift a leg to wrap around his waist, delighting in his dark chuckle and throwing your head back with a groan when he growls “good girl” against your throat.

He lines himself up with your heat and pushes in slowly, giving you time to adjust; once he’s reached the hilt he braces his hands on your headboard and pulls back, slamming back forward with a vigor you’ve only ever seen from him in his studio. You cling to his back, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt in a desperate bid to get closer.

Alastor leans down far enough to lick into your mouth, sharp teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your lips. You bite back in retaliation, perhaps a bit too hard in your eagerness and confusion at the situation- his lip splits and you taste the metallic tang. He pulls back for a moment, manic grin on his face in spite of the bead of blood welling on his mouth. He releases the headboard and shifts, one hand twisting up into your hair and dragging your head up to meet his. The other slides between your bodies, thumb grinding into your clit and the rest of his claws gripping your hips where he could reach them.

You had already been so close to orgasm by the time he turned up- the pressure on your clit and the feeling of him inside you, his hands gripping at your body and head while he kissed you and railed himself inside you. You tear your mouth away from his to gasp his name, winding a hand up into his locks as well and striking against something hard.

Your body is shaking with the attempt to hold back, trailing your fingers to the base of his antlers and giving a soft squeeze.

He groans into your mouth, a broken sound. “Do you mean to make me spend myself already, darling?” He drops your head back onto the pillows, licks down the column of your throat while pulling your other leg up around his hip to press closer to you, deeper. “We’ve hardly begun! I thought you missed me- you’d wish it over so quickly?”

“God, Alastor,” you whimper, and his thumb increases its speed, pressing you into the mattress and digging his fingers into your skin. The release is so close, your legs tensed around the demon’s middle, fingers shaking where they grasp at him. “Fuck-”

“I’d prefer to take my time with you, but I suppose there’s nothing to be done for it if you’ve yearned for me so.” He redoubles his efforts, pounding into your tight heat while you moan and quake around him. A particularly hard thrust has him glancing off that sweet spot inside of you, and combined with his efforts on your clit you’re breaking, everything inside of you clenching and releasing in a rhythm that has him snarling into the skin of your neck.

“I can feel how much you missed me,” he hisses in your ear. “So responsive and greedy in how your body pulls me in- wishes for me to release myself within the grip of your body, to fill you with me.” Another hard thrust and you whine into his hair, grip still tight on his antlers. “Is that what you wish? To be filled? Marked as mine not just in soul but body?”

Your voice trembles out of you, “god, Alastor, yes.”

“There will be no part of you that I have not touched,” he growls, and post orgasm you gasp at the sensation of tightening around him involuntarily. “All of you will be mine- mine-”

Alastor reaches orgasm with a broken cry, clutching your body to his as tightly as he can while spilling inside of you, tensing walls seeming to be trying to pull him deeper despite being buried to the hilt already. He bites you in the moment, a push of teeth into the skin of your shoulder just under your shirt, sucking and running his tongue over the mark as he pulls back.

He leans back far enough for you to see his face again, crimson eyes lidded and smile dangerous. There’s blood on his lips, from where you had bit his and from sinking his fangs into you as he went over the precipice of pleasure. Finally he releases his grip on you.

You collapse back into the pillows, sated and exhausted, while Alastor stands from the bed and situates himself, dragging his thumb across the bite you had left on his lip and smearing the blood across the pad of the digit. He sucks it into his mouth with a crooked smirk. “Well, this was quite the enjoyable detour, darling!”

“Detour?” You sit up against the pillows again. “You’re not staying?”

“I’m afraid not- but don’t worry your pretty little head about it! Neither are you!” He snaps his fingers and your bottoms are back on your body, Alastor holding a hand out to you and hoisting you up from the mattress. He takes a moment to pat your head, smoothing down the stray hairs that had escaped your ponytail from your combined efforts before he bangs his cane on the ground.

“I am?” You look around your apartment. “But- I have a job? And my apartment, who will water my plants?”

“We’ll bring your plants with us! Do you truly care about such trivial matters when you’ll be with me?” A claw tipped finger under the chin, he makes you look up at him. “That’s what you’ve wanted all this time, yes? So help me with this little project I’m working on.”

The floor opens below you, Alastor throwing an arm around your shoulders as you shift into the shadows and reemerge in some kind of lobby.

“What the f-”

“Salutations, everyone! This is one of my associates- I’m happy to offer her services! Please feel free to use her as you see fit, Charlie- she’s quite eager to please.”

“Oh my gosh, HI!” The Princess of Hell steps forward- you recognize her from her interview at the news station a week ago, Katie hadn’t stopped bitching for hours after that shitshow. She violently shakes your hand and arm before the shorter woman, her little one-eyed girlfriend, forcibly pulls her away from you. “I have SOOOOO many ideas for what you can help out with- do you have any experience with cooking? How about cleaning? Maybe Niffty could use some help-” Charlie reaches back and grabs your arm, dragging you away from Alastor who gives you a little wave before slinking back into the shadows.

You spot Husk behind the counter of a bar, Angel Dust of all people draped across it with his head dropped into his arms. The cat lifts an eyebrow at you, another one of Alastor’s souls apparently roped into helping with this ‘project,’ and raises his glass in acknowledgment. A healthy amount of fear and anticipation fills you- you would be working with Alastor again, which would be a nice change of pace from the news station. But when Katie found out her little assistant was going to working with the young woman who made a mockery of her live on television she was going to be pissed.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #requests <3 #my stuff <3

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comicaurora · 1 year ago

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These have been pent up for a while, so there's a whole list lol. Some are Aurora, some are not.

1) Can lacrimas carry out multiple purposes at once? Or will they blend them? I'm assuming that this is possible, considering that the automaton in the ruins was using a lacrima as a brain

2) Has anyone tried to make tools or weapons out of lacrimas? I'm talking like chisel that needs no hammer. Or maybe a Fire lacrima on a bow that sets your arrows on fire

3) Can you engrave runes on lacrimas to make them affect themselves?

4) Where can I read more about the Twins? If I'm not wrong they're the creator gods, aided by the Light dragon and the Void dragon to create life, but I might be getting a wrong read on that

5) Since we see Erin successfully become the first Void mage, does that now mean there's potential for him to make a Void lacrima? The dragon probably won't allow it, but still

6) What exactly does elemental corruption of each element do? Fire literally burns you up, as we saw in Arc 1. I can infer that Life likely makes you a chimera. Void corruption makes you a cave crawler. But what do the other one do? Does Earth make you a statue? Does Wind disintegrate you, Thanos style?

7) Now onto the non-Aurora questions, is your art vector or raster? I believe it's vector, but it's always better to confirm

8) What are your opinions on reading into the environment and the character design to infer things about the character themselves? In any type of media

9) Have you played Baldur's Gate 3?

10) Do you have any music that you'd recommend? I've listened to every song I liked so many times that I hate them now.

11) I'm new to Tumblr, anything that I should know? You don't have to answer this one if you don't wanna. I think I know some of the basics already. Reblog what you like, and avoid the terfs, right?

You might be able to tell that I like the idea of the lacrimas a little bit. Just a teensy bit. The artificer in me definitely isn't obsessed. I appreciate any answers you can give :3

Cheers!

Ooh, lots of stuff!

Yes, it's possible. A lacrima can be engraved with multiple spells, set in a casing engraved with commands, or some combination of the two. Typically, all spells engraved directly on a lacrima will activate at once when the lacrima is "switched on", but a spell can be quite complex, and conditional activations are possible - "if-then-else" statements, basically.

Yes, magic items exist.

Generally no. If the lacrima is disrupted or broken, the spell generally stops functioning, so a self-affecting lacrima will run only as long as it takes for the lacrima to distort or break.

There's an extra lore page about them!

He probably could if he wanted to (and the Dragon allowed it) but Void energy is very dangerous, so he likely doesn't want to.

Each form of elemental corruption agitates the presence of the element in the mage's body. Earth corruption can damage or alter bones, encourage unhealthy petrification of soft tissues, etc. Wind corruption can have physical effects but it often most obviously produces breakdowns in the person's ability to speak or understand language. Lightning damages, numbs or intensifies a person's physical senses.

Raster, I draw with CSP's digital pens. I've only very briefly experimented with vector art - I don't like how it simplifies the lines.

I think it's a fun school of analysis but, like all literary analysis, it runs into trouble if it tries to lock down exactly what the writer was thinking or intending (which is an objective fact that one can be incorrect about) rather than trying to analyze the story on its own and what meaning might, intentionally or unintentionally, be factoring into it.

Nope

don't trust my taste in music it's 90% nu metal and sonic OSTs

Like what you like, reblog what you want, generally it's considered dubious form to add a comment to a reblog unless you have something profound to contribute (commenting in the tags is fine), steer clear of discourse and callout posts and generally the sectors of the site that are constantly on fire, blocking someone for any reason is 100% fine

#asks #aurora #not aurora

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years ago

Text

{2} - Lethal Protectors - Yandere!Vampire!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Vampire AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 9,448

Warnings: Joong fucks up big time. Depiction of a panic attack. Violence and blood. Kidnapping (not the oc). Implied stalking. Past trauma and mentions of scars. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Welp, the first part was based off a dream, and subsequently, the second part is as well. (Well, the ending, mainly, but I digress lol). Anyways, I mentioned it briefly before, but this series is probably going to be more broken up into one shots than linear, but I'll see how that goes. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, seeing as this turned out much longer than I planned for it lol. Also, Joong is not a good boy in this part. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Gentle reminder that I don't do tag lists

Mini Masterlist - Part One

“You’ve been avoiding us.”

A sudden voice off to your right has you practically dropping the small box in your hands. Luckily, whoever seems to have startled you moves quickly enough to prevent it from hitting the ground. Looking up reveals the culprit to be Yunho.

“I’ve been busy.” Comes your blunt answer, grabbing the box rather harshly out of his grip and packing it into the car with the others.

“Busy enough to rarely leave home, and then decide to move out the moment your parents go away on vacation?” He counters, a hint of hurt bleeding into his tone.

“How do you know if I’ve barely left my house or not?” Your brow furrows, the sound of the car door slamming shut resounding through the area. “Or if my parents have gone on vacation?”

“My point is,” he leans against the car, a subtle pout pulling at his lips, “we know you’ve been avoiding us.”

“You deflected.” You cross you arms over your chest.

“And you’re leaving us.” He mirrors your stance.

Your lips part in answer, only for the loud slamming of your front door to echo out, a happy yip soon to follow.

“Okay, so I think I’ve gotten everything- oh.” Your sister’s voice halts as soon as she sees who you’re talking to, the chipper patter of feet stopping dead in their tracks.

“It’s okay, Chloe,” you sigh. “Just get in the car. I’ll be done in a minute.”

“He’s not-“ Her eyes dart from between you and Yunho, “He’s not…”

“No, he’s not one of Ryder’s friends.” You confirm, and the way instant relief is seen in the way her shoulders deflate says it all.

“Okay,” she still eyes him a bit warily as she moves over to the passenger’s side.

The rear door is opened to let the dog into the car, and then not even a moment later, she closes it in favour of hopping into the front seat. You can feel her eyeing you through the window, despite how she takes out her phone to appear busy.

“It’s been over a month-“

“I recognize that.” You sigh once more.

“You said we would talk about things later.” Yunho’s voice is hushed, the hurt easily portrayed on his features.

“Yes, I did.” You blink at him, reaching to open the driver’s side door.

“Well?” His one brow quirks, a gleam of hope shining behind his eyes.

“Well, what?” You prop the door open, practically clinging to it for dear life.

“It’s later.” He states, blinking at you expectantly.

“Look, Yunho,” you grimace slightly, “I’m not talking about this now.”

“Then, when?” He takes a step towards you, and you shuffle the slightest bit backwards.

His expression falls, but he backs off. For now.

“Whenever I’m ready.” You say.

“And when will that be?” His fingers twitch at his sides.

“I don’t know, Yunho.” You shake your head, climbing into the car. “I don’t know.”

The sound of the door practically slamming in his face serves as a finality to the conversation. A fact of which is only furthered by the revving of the engine rumbling to life, the car backing out of the driveway without you so much as sparing another look in his direction.

You get about three minutes down the road before Chloe is looking at you expectantly. “Okay, spill.”

“Spill, what?” You scoff playfully.

“What was that all about?” She quirks a brow as you turn the corner, driving the car down the road that will lead to the major highway.

“Nothing important.” You reply.

“‘Nothing important’ my ass!” She rolls her eyes. “A super handsome guy comes over to talk to you, whom has nothing to do with Ryder, and you brush him off like he’s dust on your jacket?” A pointed look is sent your way. “Spill.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Chlo.” You shake your head. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Then why-“

“Please, Chlo,” you spare a glance towards her out of the corner of your eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Talking about it means accepting what happened. Talking about it makes it real.

“Fine.” She grumbles, tapping away at her phone. “But I get to pick the music.”

Not even a moment later, one of her favourite songs at the moment begins blasting through the car radio. Loudly, she begins singing along, and although you know she’s doing it on purpose, it takes you no time at all to be smiling and singing along with her.

Two days ago, your parents left for a three month long vacation. Unfortunately, it coincided with the time that Chloe needed to be driven back to university for her second year. So, you being the responsible adult you are, offered to drive her yourself. She managed to find a place with her significant other, and today is the day she promised them that she would move in.

You’ve always been close with your sister, so it’s no big deal for you. Chloe and her dog, Raymond, are literally your little rascals. Sure, she can get on your nerves a lot, but what are sisters for? You’re sure she’d say the same for you.

You just weren’t expecting Yunho to show up outside your house.

It’s true. You have been avoiding them. Honestly, it’s been easier than you expected, but then again, your parents have been home to go out and buy groceries, and you’ve been able to work remotely for your job since you’ve gotten it.

No more coffee runs. No more spontaneous walks through the forest. Not even late night boba runs with Chloe, much to her disappointment. Of course, last night you caved, seeing as it had been the last time you would be able to do such a thing with her for a while. Luckily, you didn’t run into any of the guys then, like you so feared.

Fear. What a strange word.

A word that means so much, and affects even more. A word that, no matter how little it might seem to be, can rule your life.

It’s not that you’re terrified of them, no. It’s more like a caution. You know what they are. You know the lengths they are willing to go to protect you. Yet, despite it all, and your original feelings of safety, you cannot help but doubt their intentions. They say you’re their ‘mate’. So, is that the only reason they’re doing this for you? That they did this for you?

If you were anybody else, would they even have helped?

You seriously doubt that. Which is exactly why you’ve been avoiding them.

Perhaps if they don’t know what they’re missing, they can’t miss you in the first place. Not that they should, really. They hardly know you, and the whole reason you believe that they want to get to know you is because of some stupid fate bullshit.

Would they have even given you a second glance if not because of it? Would they have even cared?

Probably not, and that is what makes you so hesitant about them. You don’t know them, and you don’t know if you want to.

Five hours - and a few pit stops - later, you’re finally pulling into the parking lot of the new apartment building that Chloe will be living in. You’ve agreed to help her move in and unpack with her significant other, and they’ve both agreed to buy you dinner, and let you stay the night in return. After all, it is a lot of driving to do in one day.

Walking down the hallway once exiting the elevator, you already see Brent, Chloe’s significant waiting by the open door to their apartment. Nothing but excitement is on their face as Chloe bounds up to them with Raymond in tow, practically tackling Brent over in an embrace once she reaches them.

“I’ve missed you so much!” You overhear her say, bringing a smile to your face.

“I’ve missed you, too, Chlo.” Brent replies, rubbing a hand along her spine in comfort.

“Good to see you again, Bren.” You nod at them, that smile still present on your features.

“You too!” They grin, pulling away from Chloe as she moves into the apartment to get the dog settled. “Thanks for driving her, and helping us today.”

“It’s no problem.” You walk passed them into the apartment, dropping off the box in your hands on top of where Chloe has just placed her own. “I needed to get out of the house, anyways.”

Brent simply quirks a brow, only for Chloe to reappear a moment later and lean into them, “Guy trouble.”

Understanding flashes across Brent’s features.

“Chloe!” You shoot her an exasperated look. “That is not true!”

“Mmhmm,” Chloe hums skeptically. “And I’m a natural blonde.”

Your younger sister walks passed you, and your eyes cannot help but focus in on her dark roots growing in on the top of her head.

“Seriously, I don’t know how you put up with her,” you shake your head teasingly towards Brent as you both follow your younger sister back down the hallway after closing the door behind you.

“It’s a miracle,” Brent chuckles, “but I manage.”

“Hey!” Chloe whines as you all step into the elevator. “You two know I can hear you, right?”

“That’s the point, Chlo.” You giggle, ruffling her hair. “If you’re going to tell the world about my fictional problems, expect to be teased back.”

A grumble escapes her as she crosses her arms over her chest. Flicking the hair out of her face, she quickly exits the elevator once the doors open to the lobby.

“Come on, I still need to unpack.” She huffs, flicking some of her hair out of her face.

The two of you follow behind her, unloading the car and setting boxes around the apartment. Luckily, you all only have to take a few trips, as Chloe doesn’t have too much stuff with her. Her clothes and books are probably the biggest items, though.

By the time you finish helping her organize her stuff in their room, it’s well into the evening. Currently, she sits before the two bookcases, organizing her novels on the bottom shelves.

“Pizza’s here,” Brent pops their head in, drawing your attention.

“Thanks, Brennie,” Chloe smiles. “We’ll be right there.”

Folding up the final box, you place it to the side as Chloe stands from the floor.

“I think that’s everything.” She breathes a tremendous sigh of relief, wiping her hands together once back on her feet.

You smile at her. A tender, proud look on your features.

“How does it feel?” You ask as you follow her towards the living room.

“How does what feel?” Her brow furrows slightly as she glances back at you over her shoulder.

“To have your own place?” You quirk a brow.

“I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet.” She replies honestly, sitting on the floor by the couch.

“Our apartment comes furnished with these beautiful couches, and you still choose to sit on the floor.” Brent shakes their head, taking a seat closest to Chloe on the sofa.

“You know my sister,” you chuckle, taking a seat on the closest armchair. Then, you’re turning to meet her gaze. “Yeah, it didn’t hit me the first time I fully moved out until the next day.”

“Living in a dorm is definitely different than living on your own for the first time.” Brent comments, to which you nod in agreement.

“But I’m serious, you two,” you look between them. “If you ever need anything, anything at all, do not hesitate to call me. I’ll always get here as fast as I can.”

Chloe whines your name slightly while taking a slice of pizza. Then, she’s meeting your gaze. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

“We appreciate it.” Brent corrects, nudging Chloe lightly with their knee.

Just as you go to take a slice of pizza, your phone rings. Your brow furrows, not recognizing the number, so you opt to let it ring out. Only, when you immediately get another call from the same number, you briefly excuse yourself before answering the call.

“Hello?” Your brow furrows as you step into the kitchen.

“Oh, thank fuck!” A relieved sigh is heard from the other end. “You actually answered this time.”

“Wait, Wooyoung?” Your frown deepens. “How did you get my number?”

“That’s not important right now.” His words are rushed. “What’s important is that you left.” A brief pause, before a small whimper is heard through the phone. “You left us.”

“Excuse me for being under the assumption that we’re not together.” You blink. “Ergo, it should not matter where I go, who I’m with, or how long I’m gone. It is none of your concern, or your business, what I do.”

“I can’t help it.” The pout in his voice is apparent. “You are my concern.”

You blink in shock, not quite sure how to take his words. Though, in your silence, you hear a smack resound on the other end.

“Wait, that came out wrong-“

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait-“

You disconnect the call.

Stepping out of the kitchen, you barely make it a foot before your phone starts ringing again. It’s the same number, but you choose to decline the call.

Then it rings again, and again, and again.

By the third time you have to deny the call, you block his number.

“Geez, you really seem to be having trouble in paradise,” Chloe jokes, attempting to ease the sudden tension she sees in your shoulders.

“I-“

Your phone rings. This time, with a new number that lights up the screen.

Standing to your feet with a sigh, you retreat into the bathroom this time. Hopefully, due to the room being further away, it’ll allow you a little more privacy.

“Look, Wooyoung-“

“Where are you?”

The intensity of the voice behind the inquiry catches you off guard. “Excuse me?”

“Where. Are. You.” Each word is emphasized slowly, and you can hear the barely restrained anger behind his tone.

“Frankly, that’s none of your business.” You reply smartly.

“You are our business.”

Your eyebrow quirks, irritation clear on your features as you catch your reflection in the mirror. “You want to try that again?”

You’re not putting up with this shit. Looks like a few weeks of not getting what they want is allowing for their true colours to show.

“Just tell us where you are before-“

“Or, what? You’ll track me again?” You cut him off.

“If we have to.” Comes his blunt response.

“Ah, yes, because this is making me certainly believe I have a choice in all of this.” Your words seem to shut him up momentarily. “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

You don’t receive another call that night.

The next day, you stay at Chloe’s for as long as you can. You’re dreading the drive home, and just who might be waiting for you when you get back. Only, you have no other place to go for the moment, and you don’t want to impose for longer than you already have.

To make matters worse, it starts raining about halfway through your drive home. The clouds are dark, and the fact the sun is setting isn’t helping visibility at all. A storm even breaks out an hour before you’re due to arrive home, a torrential downpour impeding your drive. Luckily, it seems that you drive through it, and you manage to pull into your driveway while there’s a break in the rain. However, you know it’s only a matter of minutes before it’s opening back up again.

Quickly grabbing your things, you exit the car. The moment you hear the sound of it locking behind you, you lift your head. At the figure you see sitting on your front porch, you nearly drop your bag.

There, sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, is Wooyoung. His hands are clasped together, fingers worriedly threading through one another. His head is down, but you know he’s already heard you exit the car.

The second the sigh slips passed your lips, he looks up.

“You’re back.” The tension in his shoulders seems to ease slightly as he stands back to his feet.

“What are you doing here?” You move passed him to walk up the front steps.

“I was waiting for you.” He answers. “No matter how long it took, I was going to wait until you came home.”

You eye him warily. “Why?”

A moment where he simply blinks at you in response, as if his answer should already be obvious.

“I wanted to see you.” He says, earnestly.

“Wooyoung, you all hardly know me.” You sigh.

“We want to, though.” He takes a step towards you, and even though you take a step back, he stands his ground. “All we want is a chance to get to know you, and for you to know us. Is that too much to ask?”

You purse your lips, looking down and to the left as you avoid his gaze.

The soft patter of rain begins to dance against the awning above you.

In a voice no more than a whisper, you speak, “What if I don’t want that?”

He swallows thickly. “You don’t mean that."

“What if I just want you all to leave me alone?”

“No.” Wooyoung begins to shake his head, his lower lip wobbling as he falls to his knees. “You can’t mean that.”

Hesitantly, he reaches out for you, but you recoil back.

His hands fall limply to his sides.

“Please, don’t be scared of me.” His voice is but a mere whisper on the wind; weak, just like his demeanour as the first of his tears begin to trail down his cheeks.

You don’t respond, opting to turn around and unlock your front door. Maybe if he believes you are scared of them, he’ll leave you alone.

“I want you to leave, Wooyoung.” You keep your tone low, voice steady. “Leave, and then I never want to see any of you again.”

Just as you go to push the door open, you feel a weight press against your lower spine, hands coming to settle on your stomach.

“No! I- I- Can’t!” He sobs. “I won’t!”

The words hardly register in your mind before you begin hyperventilating. You drop your bags, desperately clawing at his arms around your waist as panic seizes your entire body.

“No!” You shriek, chest heaving. “Not again! Let me go! Not again!”

The grip around you tightens in shock, but you perceive it another way.

“Not again!” You’re yelling at this point, words beginning to slur as you attempt to catch your breath and get away from the person holding onto you. You choke on a sob. “Please.”

There’s some shuffling behind you, the sound of the pouring rain practically drowning out everything else. You faintly register a name being called, and then the feeling of those arms being pulled off of you.

You fall to your knees, collapsing onto the cold, hard ground. More sobs escapes you, your whole body shaking as you curl in on yourself, begging whoever it is to leave you alone.

A stern voice cuts through the rain, but you cannot make out any words. However, the raised tone has you trembling harder, violently sobbing as you protect your stomach as best as you can.

Still, you wait for the inevitable pain to come.

It doesn’t.

Instead, a gentle voice begins cooing at you. Softly, you are shushed, and encouraged to calm down, and you can feel your heartbeat finally settling in your chest. Breathing begins to become easier, and the heavy ringing in your ears lessens enough for you to hear your surroundings properly once more.

“That’s it, My Dove,” It’s a male’s voice. “You’re safe. I promise nothing will ever harm you again.”

You blink, more tears falling from your eyes as your whole body begins to relax.

“It’s alright now. You’re okay.” A figure is crouched right in front of you. “Just breathe.”

Gently, a hand reaches out to cradle the side of your face, wiping at your tears all the while.

“Everything will all be okay.”

Finally, your vision clears enough to take in the male before you.

“Seonghwa.” You manage to breathe out.

“Hello, My Dove.” He smiles faintly, worry soon creasing his brow as he watches you attempt to push yourself up into a sitting position. “Don’t strain yourself.”

You look around, noticing another figure standing beneath the pouring rain with his back turned to you. Your brow furrows, swearing that you can see his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed sobs of his own.

“Are you alright?” Seonghwa’s soft inquiry draws your attention to him once more.

You look down at yourself, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. Carefully, you raise your hands to your stomach, not feeling the warmth of fresh blood upon your skin as you do so.

You stare at your hands, touching your fingers to your thumbs to ground yourself.

Turning your head after a moment, you meet his gaze. Then, you’re nodding slowly.

A blink, and Wooyoung is kneeling beside Seonghwa, tears streaming down his face freely as he reaches for you.

“I’m so sorry-“

Seonghwa smacks his hands away. “I told you to wait for me.”

Wooyoung ignores him for the time being in order to reach for you again, choking on a sob.

You flinch, and his expression falls.

“Please,” his hands shake, water droplets endlessly falling from his soaked hair and onto the porch beneath all of you. “Please believe me.”

“Wooyoung-“ Seonghwa’s stern voice gets cut off.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Wooyoung’s voice cracks, and more sobs wrack his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

You can only stare down at your hands in response.

Seonghwa watches you carefully. You can feel his eyes on you as you steady your breathing, and Wooyoung continues to apologize profusely.

“Can you both please leave?” Your soft tone manages to catch their attention.

The way Wooyoung’s breath hitches does not go unnoticed by you.

“Do you need help-“

“No.” You cut Seonghwa off, squeezing your eyes shut as you curl in on yourself. “Please.”

The second you blink your eyes open, you’re greeted with an empty porch. The only sounds that surround you are the pouring rain, and your muffled sobs as you break down, cold and alone, just outside of your front door.

***

You manage to avoid them for three whole days. For three whole days, you see no sight, nor hear no sound of them, even when you pop out to the store for some groceries.

Gaby invites you out for coffee, and this time, you accept. Of course, you know it’s more likely that you’ll run into them while you’re with her, but the past three times she’s asked, you’ve declined her offer. She’s been nothing but kind since you bumped into her that fateful day, always messaging you to make sure you’re alight. She checks up on you, and you’ve found a good friend in her.

Ever since the town learned of the vicious animal attack that claimed the lives of Ryder and his gang of misfits, there’s almost been an air of ease that’s settled over the town. People are more talkative. His parents are moving away, meaning there’s going to be a change in the head officer running this division of law enforcers. Plus, it’s as if the sun is shining a little brighter without the fear of Ryder running rampant on unsuspecting townsfolk.

Which is why Gaby doesn’t understand why you’re cooped up inside all the time. A fact of which she expresses to you while sitting at the little table by the window.

“I’ve just been busy.” You brush the question off like usual, all too aware of the two sets of ears more than likely listening in on your conversation from across the shop.

Yeosang and Jongho haven’t bothered to approach you at all, but even you can feel the glances they keep sending your way out of the corner of their eyes. They’re respectful, but still aware of your every move despite acting as if your presence mere feet away doesn’t affect them.

You manage to survive the outing without a single word from them, and for that, you’re grateful. At least some of them seem to be attempting to respect your boundaries.

Then, on the fourth day, you get a surprise visitor.

It’s late at night when your phone pings with a new message. It’s your best, and closest, friend from university, Sungwoo, asking if you’re still up.

The moment you reply with a ‘yes’, a knock sounds at your front door.

Hesitantly, you walk over, peeking out of the little window to see your best friend with tears streaming down his face as he stands there. His car is parked in the driveway, and his sweater is on backwards, hair disheveled.

Immediately, you swing the door open, catching the sobbing man as he falls into your arms.

“He kicked me out.” He cries into your neck, holding onto your form for dear life. “After I confronted him about cheating, he kicked me out.”

“Oh, baby,” you gently card your fingers through his hair. “Let’s get you inside.”

Ten minutes later, and with warm mugs of tea in both of your hands, you’ve managed to calm him down enough to get him to tell you what’s going on. You listen intently, nodding along to his words and chiming in here and there. Apparently his partner, Jungwon, has been seeing other people the whole time they’ve been living together.

“Oh, Sunny,” your expression falls. “I’m so sorry. No one don’t deserves that.”

He shakes his head, taking another sip of his tea. “I’m sorry for intruding so late, I just didn’t know where else to go.”

His parents live out of town, and you’re the closest person he knows that lives nearby.

“I’m just glad my parents aren’t here.” You smile lightly. “My dad probably would not have been too happy about being woken up at one in the morning. You’re just lucky I usually stay up so late.”

“He wouldn’t be able to stay mad at his favourite person for long.” He cracks a smile.

“There he is,” you tilt your mug in acknowledgment. “There’s the Sungwoo I know and love.”

“Just a bit beaten down.” His gaze drops to the mug in his lap.

“Hey, it won’t always be like this.” You reach over to squeeze his arm gently.

“No.” He glances up at you. “It won’t.”

“So, obviously you’re staying for a couple days.” You say, standing from the couch. “I’ll go get the guest room ready.”

However, before you can exit the living room, his voice has you halting in your tracks.

“Do you remember that one night I snuck into your apartment after a bad date to find you crying?” His tone is soft, the inquiry nothing more than a gentle caress as he glances up into your eyes once more.

It was the night you told him about Ryder and everything that happened to you. The night your friendship truly became what it is today.

“You want to sleep with me in my room tonight?” The question you pose is tender, nothing but understanding in your tone.

You swear you hear the faintest of growls come from outside, but your brush it off as the wind. Besides, Sungwoo’s eager nod serves to distract you as you focus on making sure your best friend is taken care of for the time being.

Extending your arm out, you offer him your hand.

Carefully, he takes it in his own, allowing you to guide him upstairs after dropping off your mugs in the sink, and turning off all of the lights. You let him borrow a pair of your father’s sweats, grabbing him all he needs to get ready for bed. Ten minutes later, and you’re both crawling beneath your covers.

His head rests on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as you softly converse. Your fingers card gently through his hair, and before either of you two know it, you’re both out like lights, soft snores falling from Sungwoo’s lips.

The next day is spent driving back to Sungwoo’s place for him to grab most of his things. He drives, and you do your due diligence and stare scrutinizingly at his now ex-boyfriend the whole time.

You grab ice cream on your way home from the little corner store, eating it on the front porch while sitting on the swing. Sungwoo’s head rests on your shoulder as you gently rock yourselves back and forth, reminiscing about university and laughing together. Seems you both needed the distraction.

Two more days are spent helping Sungwoo through this rough patch, going so far as to help him start searching for places in the area he can move into. So far, there’s a few small apartments for rent, but the first place you checked out had a mold problem, and the other already had someone else interested in it first.

“Hey, what about this one? Until you can find something else?” You turn your laptop screen towards him.

Leaning over the kitchen table which you two just so happen to be sitting at, Sungwoo pulls your laptop closer to him. Carefully, he scrolls through the listing for a loft right above the town’s most popular bakery. It seems to be in good condition, and from how new the listing is, you know that it might go fast.

“Looks good,” he nods, clicking on the ‘more information’ tab. “Might go insane from the smell of bread, though.”

“Like you would be complaining.” You roll your eyes playfully.

“Complaining I can’t eat all of it, yeah.” He snorts while looking into booking a viewing. “Oh shit! There’s a time available for today!”

“Is there?” Your whole demeanour perks up.

“What time is it now?” His eyes flit around your screen.

You check your phone. “Just after five, why?”

“Okay, the viewing is for six. That gives me just enough time to shower and head over.” He nods to himself.

“I would come with you, but I’ve got to finish this report for my boss by tonight.” You sigh, leaning back in your chair.

“That’s okay! I’m a big boy, I can handle myself.” He puffs out his chest dramatically.

“Says the one terrified of butterflies.” You mutter.

“They drink tears straight out of live crocodiles and turtles.” He states, matter of factly. “And they drink blood, too. Tell me that’s not terrifying.”

You shrug, chuckling all the while. “Go get ready, Sun, before you’re too late.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” He playfully salutes you before running upstairs to take a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, and with his hair still damp, he’s running back into the kitchen. A tender kiss is placed onto your temple as you work, and you turn towards him just as he begins to walk back out of the kitchen.

“I’ll pick up something for us to eat for dinner on my way home, maybe stop off to get some groceries, too.” He tells you while slipping on his shoes. “I’ll text you after the viewing what I decide to do.”

“Okay,” you smile, waving him off. “See you later!”

“You’re the best!” You hear him call out.

“Yeah, yeah,” you laugh, waving him off. “Love you, too.”

The door falling shut is the last you hear from him.

In fact, it’s the last sound you hear from him for four hours.

So consumed by your work, you turned your phone on silent and hadn’t bothered to check it at all before submitting your report. Glancing at the time, you see it’s a little over nine-thirty in the evening. Sungwoo texted you earlier on, saying he really liked the place, and agreed to renting it for the next little bit. Afterwards, he told you that he’d be heading to the store, and should be back within an hour.

That was about three hours ago.

Fear spikes inside of you, and your first thought is that Ryder has done something to him to get to you.

Then, you remember: Ryder and his goons cannot hurt you anymore.

Your heart stops, thinking the worst.

Perhaps you’re just overreacting. Maybe Sungwoo ran into an old friend while at the grocery store and got to talking. Maybe they went out for drinks, or something.

So, you text him.

Five minutes go by with no answer, so you decide to call. It goes straight to voicemail.

Panic seizes you, your brow furrowed in worry as you begin to pace in front of the kitchen table.

Something is definitely wrong. It’s not like Sungwoo to ignore you, or turn his phone off. Something has definitely happened to him while he’s been out, and you haven’t the slightest clue what it could be.

A knock sounds at your door.

Your heart skips a beat as the noise startles you out of your thoughts. You hope beyond everything that it’s Sungwoo just trying to be an ass and scare you, but alas, you know that it’s probably too good to be true.

Three familiar faces greet you behind the door, looks of concern on all of them.

Your brow furrows, “Seonghwa, Yeosang, Jongho, what are you all doing here? I thought I told you to-“

“Hongjoong has Sungwoo.” Seonghwa cuts you off almost immediately.

“Excuse me?” You blink at him in mild shock.

“We need to hurry, there’s no time-“

“Will one of you please tell me what’s going on?” Your brow creases, arms crossing over your chest as you cut Jongho off.

“The others are with him.” Yeosang adds, shifting from foot to foot anxiously. “They helped him take Sungwoo.”

Your mind blanks, swallowing thickly. “What are they planning to do to him?”

“We can explain on the way.” Seonghwa motions to a black car parked alongside the curb with his head. “Mingi’s already attempting to stop them on his own.”

“Why should I trust you?” You meet his gaze, noticing how the other two behind him keep glancing between you and the back of Seonghwa’s head.

“Have we given you any reason not to?” He counters, a slight grimace to his features.

“If you don’t believe us, just call him.” Yeosang motions to your phone still held in your hand.

“I tried calling Sungwoo, but his phone is turned off.” You uncross your arms, looking down at your phone.

“Not Sungwoo,” Jongho shakes his head. “Hongjoong.”

Your eyes narrow the slightest bit at the three vampires before you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Seonghwa pulls out his own phone, opening up the messages app to show you a series of text between him and Hongjoong.

Seems as if the eldest has been against this plan from the start, but the younger had been adamant on going through with it.

You whole body stills, and your hands begin to shake.

“What’s his number?” Your voice is low as you prepare to make the call.

“Don’t you have it?” Jongho’s brow furrows.

“I tend to delete call logs of numbers I don’t particularly like.” Your eyes dart to the youngest across from you.

A moment later, Seonghwa is clicking into Hongjoong’s contact information. Once his number is on the screen, he turns it back to face you.

You dial the number.

The sound of the call beginning to ring through is synonymous with you motioning to that black car with your chin. Luckily, they take the hint, and in two more rings, you’ve slipped outside after grabbing your keys and locking the front door.

You hear the ringing suddenly cut out, signifying someone has answered the call.

You hold your breath.

“Hello, My Treasure.” A pleasant hum is heard through the line. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Three vampires spare fleeting glances in your direction as you approach the car.

“What have you done with Sungwoo?” Surprisingly, your voice comes out much stronger than you thought it would.

“So, now you wish to speak with me?” His voice holds nothing but incredulous disbelief. “When the life of a useless, pathetic mortal is at risk?”

Your heart pangs as you slide into the backseat beside Jongho. Your assumptions about him seem to be correct.

“Careful with your words, asshole,” you spit, a frown marring your features. “I’m still human, too.”

“You know I never count you when I say things like that, right, Treasure?”

“Where’s Sungwoo?” You choose to ignore his claim for now. “What have you done to my best friend.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of your affections for him.” Hongjoong all but growls through the phone. “Are you quite sure he feels the same?”

“Enlighten me.” You hiss out through clenched teeth.

“You seem awfully attached to him.” Hongjoong hums. “Would be a shame if something awful happened to him.”

“I swear to god, Hongjoong, if you hurt him-“

“Oh, no, Treasure, God can’t save him now.”

The phone slips from your hand. Already, your mind is supplying you with the worst case scenarios, whole body beginning to shake as your throat tightens up.

You don’t even register how quickly Jongho reaches out to catch your phone, nor the way he seems to be cursing at the elder male through the line while sitting beside you. A blink, and your phone is in Yeosang’s hands as Seonghwa continues to speed down the streets, racing to a location unbeknownst to you.

Gently, Jongho reaches over to begin comforting you, attempting to calm you down while hesitating to touch you. Seonghwa told them all what happened when Wooyoung touched your stomach from behind, and now he’s scared touching anywhere on your body in this state might set you off again.

Then again, Yunho did cradle you in his arms that night all those weeks ago when they found your body on the side of the road.

It is with that thought that Jongho places a tender hand onto your shoulder.

“Why is he doing this?” Your voice is small as you stare at your hands, touching your fingers to your thumbs meticulously.

Glancing up, you see that Yeosang must have ended the call.

“He- they are all jealous.” Seonghwa briefly meets your gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Of Sungwoo?” Your brow furrows. Then, something is clicking in your mind as you see them all nod. “How do you all know about Sungwoo?”

The three of them stiffen.

Briefly, your eyes dart over each of them individually.

“Oh my god, you’ve been stalking me?” Again, your hands begin to shake.

“We prefer the term ‘watching over’.” Jongho mumbles, retracting his hand once you shrug it off of your shoulder.

Suddenly, you find the interior of the car to be stifling.

“How long?” Your hands ball into fists in your lap.

“I don’t think you want to know the answer to that right now.” Yeosang voices lowly, avoiding your gaze by staring straight forward.

Your phone rests on the console between the front two seats. Quickly, you grab it, holding onto it for dear life.

“This… bond we told you about,” Seonghwa begins, “it affects us all differently. Some of us have also been hoping for something like this to occur for so long, that the fear of rejection never really crossed our minds.”

“That’s not to mention our kind is fiercely protective over the things we care about without the bond enhancing those feelings towards you.” Yeosang adds, shifting slightly in the front seat.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is possessive.” Jongho sighs, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments.

You shift the slightest bit away from him, a fact which the two sitting in the front immediately notice.

“And you three are unaffected?” You inquire.

“We see reason.” Jongho’s eyes blink open, his expression falling as he sees you having shifted the slightest bit away from him.

“We won’t lie and say that we don’t care for you,” Yeosang says, a brief, tight upturn of his lips as he glances in your direction. “However, we understand that this is a lot for you, and that you don’t know us well. There are bound to be doubts and uncertainties that you have, and that’s not even taking into account what we are.”

“So, you’re all just better at hiding your jealousy.” A statement, not a question.

“We’re better at controlling it.” Seonghwa chimes in, turning down a dark stretch of road with trees surrounding either side.

“Hongjoong has been waiting and wishing for you probably the longest out of all of us. Well, probably besides Yunho.” Jongho tells you. “The bond is making him act on instinct; his darker impulses.”

You curl in on yourself more. “I don’t like the implications of that.”

“We’re normally pretty good at controlling ourselves.” Yeosang adds lowly. “It’s just you that makes us into anomalies.”

“Gee, that makes me feel loads better.” You nearly scoff.

“I don’t necessarily mean it in a bad way.” He turns his head to look at you.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You sigh.

“You’re scared of us?” It’s Jongho’s timid voice that cuts through the sudden silence in the car like a knife.

You heave another tremendous sigh. “Not necessarily.”

“Then, why do you keep avoiding us?” There is pain held within Yeosang’s eyes. “Why do you keep pushing us away?”

You purse your lips. “Now is not the time for this.”

Sure enough, the car breaks through the trees, swerving on the path to reveal a small cemetery up ahead.

Seonghwa speeds up.

Through the darkness, you can just make out five figures milling about. As you get closer, you see a sixth one on his knees between them all.

The car comes to a screeching halt, and you practically fling yourself out of the backseat. A terrified shriek escapes you at the state you find Sungwoo to be in, his beaten and bloody body covered in gashes and dirt.

You spot the bat in Hongjoong’s hand, the metal iron pikes glinting in the moonlight as he rests it over his shoulder. You think you’d be less terrified if the bat housed spikes instead of those solid metal protrusions lining the sides. Hell only knows what Sungwoo has already suffered through this evening.

Tears line your eyes as you attempt to run over to Sungwoo, your heart pounding in your chest. Only, you don’t get very far, Mingi grabbing your arms and holding you back before you can get too close. Even Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Jongho get held back by the other three at Hongjoong’s command, curses flying between all of them as you scream for them to end this madness.

Sungwoo collapses on the ground.

“Pathetic.” Hongjoong clicks his tongue. “Weak ass human can’t even handle a few blows.”

“What have you done?” Your voice is frantic, tears spilling onto your cheeks as you look between him and Sungwoo’s tattered and bruised form.

“I’m simply teaching this rat a lesson for touching what isn’t his.” Hongjoong’s eyes flash maliciously beneath the light of the moon.

Your heart stops, dread flooding your veins. As you are being held back by Mingi, your whole body begins to shake.

“You think you own me.” Your words are but a whisper on the wind, but it causes the entire cemetery to suddenly become eerily quiet. “You believe I belong to you.”

Something in Hongjoong’s facade cracks, and his demeanour shifts only briefly. “No-“

“You just said it yourself.” Your hands are clenched into fists despite Mingi holding you back by your arms. “You don’t view me as a person. You view me as an object to be owned.”

The others remain deadly silent, watching this interaction with bated breath.

“That’s not true, and you know it.” He frowns.

“No. I don’t know.” You spit harshly. “That’s the whole fucking point! I don’t know you, and you don’t know me!”

“But, you love him.” Hongjoong’s eyes dart down to the male bleeding out at the ground at his feet.

A few displeased growls echo around the tombstones surrounding you.

“He is my best friend!” You’re near hysterics at this point. “Of fucking course I love him!”

More growls sound around you.

Hongjoong’s hand holding onto the bat begins to tremble. “I can’t let him live knowing he’s touched you.”

“You know?” Your head falls forward in disbelief. “You know?”

“Of course I know!” Hongjoong’s anger is barely contained, his own body beginning to shake in rage. “How could I not recognize when filth sleeps with My Treasure?”

You go silent, clamping your lips shut as you feel Mingi’s hands tighten around you from Hongjoong’s words. It’s starting to make sense to you.

“You think we’ve slept together.” You state.

“I know you have.” Hongjoong glares unforgivingly down at the man splayed out at his feet in the dirt.

“Right, because you’ve all been stalking me.” You nod your understanding. “But no, that’s not what I meant.”

Hongjoong lifts his gaze.

“You think we’ve fucked.”

His resounding growl, and the several others you hear around you, are answer enough.

“You haven’t?” It’s Wooyoung who asks, genuine surprise coating his words.

“Maybe we have, and maybe we haven’t.” You reply. “Either way, it is none of your goddamn business. I don’t owe you anything, and you don’t owe me anything.”

“You don’t understand-“ San begins to say, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“Then, help me to understand, because right now you are all breaking your promise to me.” Your pain filled eyes look around the small circle of gathered males. “I thought you said you would never hurt me.”

Wooyoung visibly flinches at your words, loosening his grip on Yeosang the slightest bit. Even Mingi’s grip no longer feels as tight against your own arms.

“I have to do this.” Hongjoong steels his resolve, despite the way his voice wavers. “I can’t let him interfere.”

“With what, Hongjoong?” You shout. “There is nothing between us. You doing this guarantees nothing will ever happen between us.”

“You don’t mean that.” It’s Mingi’s hurt tone that you hear softly from behind you.

“Are you going to hunt everyone I’ve ever slept with? Is that how this is going to work?” Your chest is heaving. “You don’t even know if I’ve slept with anyone, but you’re so adamant on killing my best friend simply off of a baseless claim. You might as well slaughter the entire town.”

“You already think us monsters anyways.” Hongjoong mutters, turning his head away from you.

“There is only one man I ever considered a monster.” Your voice is deadly calm. “I never thought you would stoop low enough to join him.”

“Then, why have you been avoiding us?” Hongjoong’s voice practically shakes the whole area as he rounds on you, the tip of the bat sinking into the mud as it falls from his shoulder.

“Because knowing the only reason you all started talking to me in the first place is due to some stupid magical bond that told you I’m your fated mate, or whatever, fucking hurts, okay?” Your tears have returned, falling freely down your cheeks as your chest heaves. “The only thing worse would be if you told me I was some reincarnation of your long lost love, or something ridiculous like that.”

The cemetery goes so silent, you swear the earth has stood still.

“You’ve been avoiding us this whole time because you think we wouldn’t want you if we weren’t fated to each other?” Yunho finally speaks, hands falling limply to his sides as Seonghwa, who he had been holding back, can only stand there, just as stunned as all of the rest of them.

“You only saved me that night because of the bond.” You attempt to swallow your building emotions, but you end up choking on a sob. “You all only care because of this stupid bond.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” Yeosang shakes his head.

“It’s it, though?” You laugh bitterly. “Tell me, then. Honestly. If I were anyone else, and you had found me on the side of the road like that, bleeding out and on the brink of death, would you have stopped to help?”

If their silence didn’t already speak volumes, the way the majority of them avert their gazes says it all.

“All my life, I had hoped- I had dreamed of finding a soulmate, of them being real.” You voice falters as you bottom lip trembles. “After the shit I went through with Ryder, I just wanted someone to love me with all of my scars, unconditionally. Then I realized, it could never be real love if it was all based on some stupid bond, telling them that they had to love me. I don’t deserve to have that doubt always held within me. You don’t deserve that, either.”

You can tell a few of them have started crying along with you, tears streaming down Wooyoung’s, San’s, Jongho’s, and Seonghwa’s faces. Even both Yeosang and Hongjoong look close to breaking, and at the first drop of wetness you feel land on your arm, you know Mingi is faring no better.

“All of this for a bond that is telling you to want me.” You weep openly, the despair clear on your features. “How is that supposed to make me feel?”

“You-“ Wooyoung hiccups. “You think that we don’t want you?”

“Have you not been listening to a word I’ve just said?” Your voice cracks, turning your broken gaze towards Wooyoung.

“I thought we told you that despite us following the bond, we would never force it upon you.” Yunho reasons.

“Then, what do you call this?” You laugh bitterly once more. “An intervention?”

“We told you that we wanted to get to know you before anything.” Jongho’s voice is small, looking down at the ground as San continues to hold him back from reaching you or Sungwoo for the moment.

“But you insisted on avoiding us.” Hongjoong adds, somewhat bitterly.

“Because a fucking pull brought you to me!” You reply, clearly exasperated. “That’s not a choice, Hongjoong.”

“It was our choice to follow the pull.” Seonghwa surprises you by speaking, his words but a mere whisper on his lips.

“I’m sorry I’m not all I’ve been made out to be.” You say, somewhat bitterly as you look down at the ground.

“You’re better.” Immediately, your head is whipping upwards in Yeosang’s direction, catching his gaze. Your breath hitches as how earnest he looks, his eyes shining with the deepest form of sincerity you’ve ever seen another person give you. “You’re better than anything we could have ever imagined.”

You swallow thickly, your lower lip trembling with the weight of your emotions.

“I wish I could believe you.”

Something within Hongjoong snaps. You see it in the way his whole body twitches, his eyes flashing a deep red as black veins appear beneath them.

“It’s because of him.” That bat gets raised into the air. “He’s stolen you away from us.”

“No, Hongjoong-“ You begin thrashing in Mingi’s grip as you see the crazed gleam in the elder’s eyes.

“Hongjoong, stop this at once!” Seonghwa’s voice commands, ringing out loud and clear throughout the clearing.

Only, before the elder can take so much as a step towards Hongjoong, Yunho has him held back in his grip once more.

“Hongjoong.” Mingi warily calls the man’s name.

“You’re ours.” Hongjoong’s voice boarders on a feral snarl, his hands tightening methodically around the base of the bat as his lips pull back over sharp fangs.

Your eyes go wide as the reality of the situation washed over you: Hongjoong is going to smash Sungwoo’s head in no matter what you do.

Just as you watch the bat begin to swing downwards, you scream.

“No!”

It’s as if the world moves in slow motion. Somehow, you manage to tear free of Mingi’s hold which had grown quite loose, almost as if he had hesitated holding you back any longer. Still, you can feel your arms stinging, sure there are now cuts along your skin from his nails where he had been clinging onto you so desperately.

You throw yourself on top of Sungwoo, covering him with your body as that bat cuts through the air in an almost gentle, mocking arc. You squeeze your eyes shut.

Then, it’s as if the world resumes its normal speed.

You expect to feel pain. Nothing but hot, searing pain. Only, it never comes.

Blinking your eyes open, you look up to see Hongjoong staring down at you in horror. His wide eyes have no shortage of tears as he meets your gaze, standing frozen in his spot with the bat hovering right above your head.

A drop of blood lands on your face.

Shifting your gaze, you see Mingi holding that bat, a spire of iron mere millimetres from your face.

Tremendous roars reach your ears: some of pure fury, others of horror, and a few in desperation. The very resonance of such sounds causes the earth to tremble beneath you, a flock of birds taking off suddenly into the night sky.

A blink, and Hongjoong is being dragged back by five males, all of whom tear him away from you and that bat still held in Mingi’s grip. Snarls reach your ears as both Yeosang and Seonghwa pin him to the ground, Wooyoung, Jongho, and Yunho all standing over his trembling form.

Then, Yunho manages to calm himself enough to turn towards you.

He meets your gaze. “How did you do that?”

There’s a bitter furrow to your brow, “Do what?”

San is beside you in an instant, checking you over for injuries as Mingi tosses the bat to the side.

“Don’t help me, heal him.” You push the vampire off of you, motioning to Sungwoo with your chin.

You notice the way San hesitates.

Mingi doesn’t.

***

Gently, you cradle Sungwoo in your arms, brushing his hair back from his face after Mingi has fed him some of his blood. Slowly, you can already see some of Sungwoo’s injuries mending themselves, the cuts closing and bruises healing.

You turn your tearstained face towards the eight men now kneeling across from you.

“You’re going to listen to me, and you’re going to listen good and proper.” None of them have ever heard you use such a dark tone before, but from your expression alone, they can tell just how furious you are right now. “I don’t care who they are, but if you ever touch another person that I care about, if you ever hurt any of them, especially him,” you grip tightens around Sungwoo in your arms, “I will never forgive you, and you will never see me again. Do I make myself clear?”

A chorus of low ‘yes’s greet your ears.

“You want me to like you, but all this has done is make me despise the four of you.” You seethe, pure fury lighting behind your irises.

They all squirm beneath your intense gaze.

“Wait, four?” Wooyoung’s brow furrows.

You look from him, to Yunho, to San, and then finally, to Hongjoong, of whom you hold gazes with the longest.

“I don’t trust any of you after this.” Pointed glares are sent to the former four by the others you haven’t singled out. “And I don’t know if that can ever be rebuilt.”

“You weren’t going to give us a chance, anyways.” San grumbles, fingers sinking into the dirt by his legs.

You choose to not respond to his bitter comment right now.

“When he finally regains consciousness,” you motion down to Sungwoo with your head, “One of you is going to compel him to forget this ever happened. You are going to get your heads out of your fucking asses, pull up your big boy pants, and leave me the fuck alone. I want nothing to do with you after this. You may have saved my life once before, but all this has proven is that none of you are ready for a commitment like this.”

Hongjoong goes to protest.

“You let your insecurities and jealousy control you! How could I ever want that?” You round on him. “I’ve already dealt with one abusive asshole, I don’t need another.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, so am I.” You scoff, soon shifting your gaze to meet Seonghwa’s own. You stand back to your feet. “Now, Take me home.”

425 notes · View notes

sorrowsofsilence · 1 year ago

Text

Burning Out • I

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 4.7K

General Fanfic Warnings: 18+, explicit language, smut, alcohol, drugs, violence, mentions murder/suicide, panic attacks/anxiety, nightmares

Authors note: Chapter One: The Apparition - (EDITED 09-03-2024) This story was a request by an anon! I hope you enjoy my interpretation of the prompt (prompt is here). I am excited to see where this goes! Let me know any thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged leave a comment :3

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY, IN REAL LIFE! IT IS SIMPLY FICTION, AND JUST FOR FUN! THINK OF THEM AS ACTORS LOL.

NOAH

The world was always in a state of grey, the life of the concrete jungle persistently sucking out the souls of its inhabitants with every passing second. Destruction. Crime. Greed. A shattering abyss of capitalism and corruption.

Yet, I don’t think I was meant to be the good guy in this lifetime.

Maybe someday, in another universe, there would be a possibility for me.

But for now, the only thing I could think about was how my heart pounded as the gun sat between my fingers, threatening the innocent ahead.

Destruction, Crime, Greed.

“Noah, let’s go,” Ruffilo desperately pulled at my wrist in an attempt to drag me away. My arm remained still, held in its position, resisting his force.

The woman’s eyes watched me in horror, tears brimming as her back hit the brick wall behind her, arms wrapping protectively around her body in defeat.

My heart raced, yet I couldn’t move.

“I won’t say anything I swear,” She pleaded, lips trembling, saliva foaming from her mouth as she was too afraid to swallow.

I don’t want to do this, but I fucked up.

“Noah,” Ruffilo said through gritted teeth, “We need to go,” he placed a hand on top of my gloved one, in another attempt to have me lower the bad decision.

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut in contemplation as my chest heaved, the voice of rationality fighting against the voice of destruction.

You’ve never been able to kill anyone before you moron, why do you think this time will be any different?

My eyes snapped open, leathered finger dancing along the trigger as I stared at her. My teeth barred through chapped lips, a snarl of frustration crawling from my throat as the woman's eyes turned away in fear; as if watching her demise would kill her.

Seeing her in complete terror left me broken. Is this who I am?

The next thirty seconds passed as though I was walking through molasses, my thoughts battling contradictions before I audibly screamed in frustration, shoving the gun back into my pocket as Nicholas and I ran towards the van.

“Fuck!” I yelled, slamming the car door as forceful as possible. The tires squealed in place, burning out as Jolly’s foot pounded onto the gas pedal.

I ripped off my ski mask, throwing it angrily onto the floor of the vehicle.

“You should’ve just left her Noah. Now if they find us we could be charged with assault with a weapon.” The deep Swedish accent was the last thing I wanted to hear. He eyed me sternly in the rearview mirror, and I lingered on his gaze for a moment before turning my head towards the window.

“Oh Fuck off Jolly,” I sighed angrily, closing my eyes as my breathing quickened, the anxiety beginning to set in. The pounding of my heart began to vibrate along my entire chest, and my leg bounced in anticipation, waiting for the panic to subside.

I kept justifying to myself that we’re all dead anyway, so what’s the difference between a God and a loaded gun?

The van sped through the city's veins, a blur of neon and shadows. I felt Ruffilo's eyes digging into me, a mix of disappointment and concern as he watched my tapping fingers against the plastic of the car door. Another fuck up added to the list.

The silence in the vehicle was deafening, broken only by the occasional honk of a distant car or the screech of tires against wet asphalt.

"We need to lay low for a while," Jolly's voice cut through the tension. "I know a place on the outskirts we can hang out at ‘till everything cools down. It’s not pretty, but it'll do."

I nodded absent-mindedly, my thoughts still with the woman we'd left behind. Her terrified eyes haunted me, a stark reminder of the monster I was becoming. Or perhaps had always been.

As we drove further from the city center, the buildings grew more dilapidated, the streets emptier. The grey world outside mirrored the turmoil that had taken over my thoughts, reminding me of the emptiness that seemed to follow me everywhere.

+++++

Y/N

I tied the grey apron around my waist and punched in for my shift. With my hair pulled back into a low bun, I tucked away any stray strands of my bangs. Another day at work, feeling like it was all just slipping away, lost to the endless cycle of capitalism.

Overall, I enjoyed my new job working in the coffee shop. The city was busy, something I wasn’t used to, but the cafe was a comforting environment filled with tasty pastries, and an unlimited amount of caffeine to fulfill any heart's desire.

I sighed as I checked on the coffee pots, organizing them before nearly lining the glass display with more cakes and croissants. Stocking up the cups and lids, I hummed to myself, letting my mind wander into my corporate daydream distractions.

Why are you never real?

Whenever you appear

You leave me with that grace

I am trembling with fear

But I know that you will disappear

“How’s it going Y/N?” My coworker asked, smiling, pulling me out of my trance.

Annika; I have grown quite fond of her, even though I’ve only known her a week.

“Good,” I smiled, pulling a sanitized cloth out of a bucket and wiping down the counters, “yourself?”

“Oh you know, same old same old.” She said, sighing with a sad smile. I matched her as we shared a moment of familiarity, before concentrating again on wiping the surface, the cold cloth running along the faux marble.

The seating area was bustling with activity; friends catching up, students poring over their notes, and business meetings taking place. I loved observing the vibrant energy that each person brought into the space. A smile formed on my lips as I watched the familiar elderly couple, whom I had seen every morning this week, bid farewell.

I gave a nod to Lauren and Ray as I said goodbye, then made my way to the empty tables. I began wiping them down, ignoring the sound of the door ringing as more people entered. I hummed softly to myself, lost in thought. It had only been three weeks since I left my old life behind, and this was just the start of my newfound freedom.

So let's make trouble in the dream world

Hijack heaven with another memory now

I make the most of the turning tide

It just split what's left of the burning silence

“Sleep token?”

Suddenly, a man's voice interrupted my thoughts and I snapped out of my daze. My face heated up with embarrassment as I realized that Annika must have gone to assist another customer. I quickly apologized and avoided eye contact as I tossed the cloth into the bucket and rushed back to the register.

I glanced nervously at the buttons in front of me, mentally preparing to either hit to go or to stay, as I waited for the man's response. But when my eyes met his deep brown gaze, I was instantly lost in the intensity and mystery within them. My lips parted slightly as I stared at him, feeling a rush of infatuation that warmed my cheeks. His dark chocolate eyes were framed by long, tousled brunette hair that fell just below his collarbone. His arms and neck were adorned with colourful tattoos, giving him an alluring look. And when he smiled, it was almost enough to make my knees weak; the crinkles around his eyes and the lines of his smile were captivating.

However, there was something else lurking behind those intense eyes, and my mind couldn't help but want to uncover it.

He returned my gaze, his eyes carefully taking in every detail of my face. A light blush crept along his nose, making its way across to the top of his cheekbones.

"So, is it to go or to stay?" I stuttered, breaking eye contact and quickly looking away. I could feel the heat rising to my ears and I focused all of my attention on the counter in front of me; trying to act casual but feeling a wave of shyness wash over me as I glanced up at him.

"To go, please," he replied, and his voice was like music to my ears with its slight Virginian accent.

In all my years working in retail and serving, I had never been so captivated by a customer before. There was something about this stranger that intrigued me; a mystery waiting to be discovered. "Just a black coffee, please," he said slowly, almost as if he was unsure.

I let out a shy laugh, “Did you want cream or sugar? Or we have a variety of syrups-” I watched as he smiled, before shaking his head, eyes remaining fixated.

“No, black is fine,” he replied. Something about his gaze, like the colour of October leaves, drew me in and held my attention as time seemed to stand still. As if invisible strings were connecting us, pulling me towards his magnetic presence that I couldn't seem to resist.

“Alright then,” I nodded, feeling a bit flustered as I avoided his stare, “is that all for you?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, digging through his wallet before handing me a bill.

“Can I have your name?” I asked shyly, looking back at him and trying to read his face for any clues about who he really was. Sometimes a name can reveal more than words ever could.

“Noah,“ he said, giving a slight nod and tight smile.

“Noah,” I echoed.

I pivoted on my heel and made my way over to the coffee maker, picking up a cup and filling it with the warm liquid.

Annika slinked up beside me, lightly bumping into my arm. "That's Noah," she whispered, nodding towards him, "He used to come here all the time, but he hasn't been around lately. He's always in a gloomy mood."

I glanced at her, unsure of how to respond.

"And he usually takes his coffee with cream and sugar, so it's interesting to see him trying something new." Annika turned her head slightly, observing the boy for a moment before leaning in closer to me. "Maybe it's because he's so distracted by you that he forgot his usual order."

A tinge of warmth spread across my face as I dismissed the idea with a scoff, "Yeah, right." But out of curiosity, I couldn’t help but glance over at the brunette behind the counter. Just as I suspected, he was discreetly watching us but quickly looked away when our eyes met.

"You should give him your number," Annika whispered mischievously before walking away to assist another customer.

I chuckled softly as I closed the lid and slid a sleeve onto the cup. My hand hovered over the sharpie, wondering if I should do it.

I shook my head gently, shaking away the thought before scribbling his name across the top of the plastic.

"Noah," I said, his name escaping my lips like a delicate sigh. It felt so natural as if he had been the one to breathe it into me.

His inked fingers wrapped around the cup, “You were singing the apparition earlier,” He said, and I watched him curiously, “fascinating, the line about the past.”

Every word felt like it was being taken from my body as we watched each other. Both of us seemed to hesitate, waiting for the other to say something.

The brunette spoke first, eyes gazing upon me for a moment as he turned towards the door, “I’ve never seen you before, you must be new around here.”

Though I wanted to reply, I found myself unable to move or speak. Instead, I fixated on each of his movements as he approached the door, the image of his black hoodie imprinted in my mind.

"Welcome to the neighbourhood," he said with a nod before exiting through the door, the bell chiming behind him.

I stood there, frozen, watching the door long after it had closed behind him. My heart raced, and I could feel a flush creeping up my neck. What was it about this stranger that had me so flustered?

"Earth to Y/N," Annika's voice snapped me back to reality. "You okay there? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I blinked rapidly, trying to regain my composure. "I'm fine," I mumbled, though I wasn't entirely sure that was true. "It's just... did you see him? The way he looked at me?"

Annika grinned knowingly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Oh, I saw alright. And I told you to give him your number, didn't I?"

I groaned, leaning against the counter. "I know, I know. I just... froze. God, why am I such an idiot?”

Annika smiled at me, kneading her fingers into my skin sympathetically. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Besides, he seemed pretty interested in you too. He’ll be back, he always comes here."

I sighed, straightening up and trying to shake off the lingering effects of the encounter. "Maybe. I just... I don't know what came over me. It was like time stopped for a moment there."

"That's called chemistry, sweetie," Annika winked. "And from where I was standing, there was plenty of it."

I busied myself with wiping down the counter, trying to distract myself from the memory of Noah's intense gaze.

But as the day wore on, I found my mind drifting back to those few moments. The way he mentioned the apparition as if he'd been paying attention to me long before I noticed him. As if he was the one to plant the lyrics into my mind. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Noah than met the eye.

As closing time approached, I found myself glancing at the door more frequently, half-hoping he might return. But the bell remained silent, and soon enough, Annika and I were wiping down tables and stacking chairs.

"Why don't you head out early, I can finish up,” She said, wiping her hands on the apron tied to her waist.

I gave her a small smile, appreciating the gesture, “I’d love that. Especially since I have to be at the bar tonight.”

“Go,” she waved me off, and I gave her a nod, gathering my bag.

As I stepped out into the cool evening air, I couldn't shake the way his eyes had locked with mine, the subtle rasp in his voice - it all replayed in my mind like a broken record. Was I going crazy? What was wrong with me?

I shoved my hands in my pockets and started the short walk to my condo, my footsteps echoing on the quiet street. The sky was a canvas of deep pinks and oranges, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon at its 5 pm descent.

It was beautiful, but I barely noticed it, too lost in my thoughts.

Suddenly, a familiar figure caught my eye across the street. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the black hoodie and inked fingers. Noah. He was walking in the opposite direction, his head down, seemingly lost in thought.

I hesitated, my feet rooted to the spot. Should I call out to him? Cross the street? The moment stretched out, feeling like an eternity as I debated what to do. Before I could make a decision, Noah looked up and our eyes met once again.

Time seemed to slow as we stood there, frozen on opposite sides of the street, and a car passed between us, momentarily breaking our connection. When it cleared, I saw the brunette take a hesitant step towards the crosswalk.

My heart pounded in my chest as he made his way across the street. I remained rooted to the spot, unable to move or speak as he approached.

"We meet again," Noah said softly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Hi," I managed to squeak out, inwardly cringing at how breathless I sounded.

"I, uh, I wanted to thank you for the coffee earlier," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was really good. Although I forgot to ask for cream and sugar.”

I felt a flutter in my chest at his words. "Oh, I'm sorry about that," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I usually remember to ask."

Noah shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. "No, no. It's not your fault. I was... distracted."

The way he said it, with a hint of shyness in his voice, made my heart race even faster. We stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between us, filled with nervous energy.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," I finally said, extending my hand.

He took it, his touch sending a jolt through my body as his fingers wrapped around my own. "Noah. But you already knew that."

Well, I believe,

Somewhere in the past,

Something was between,

You and I, My dear

Noah’s gaze met mine, our eyes searching for any unspoken words. But he broke the silence with a blunt question: "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

His unexpected inquiry caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but give him a dumbfounded look, my eyebrows furrowing in shock. Slowly, a smile of disbelief spread across my lips and I tilted my head to look at him. A laugh escaped me and he joined in, his own laughter shy and reserved.

"I...I think you should walk by again," I managed to say between giggles, mustering a quick retort. "But only so I can get another glimpse of what you would look like walking towards me on a date." As soon as the words left my mouth, I cringed at how cheesy they sounded, but Noah's smile widened at our playful banter.

“So, I’ve gathered that we are both really terrible at flirting,” He said, licking his lips.

I hummed in agreement, “I think that can be a safe deduction from this one-minute conversation,” my eyes following his fingers that now ran through his long chestnut hair, eyes trailing over the flower on the back of his hand, “maybe, you’d like to see how bad a longer conversation could be?”

I held out my phone, ready to exchange numbers and Noah's eyes lit up at my suggestion, a hint of mischief dancing in them as another smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'd like that," he said softly, passing me his phone as we shared each other’s informatoin. "Very much."

We stood there for a moment, both of us grinning like idiots before I remembered my shift at the bar. "Oh, shoot," I muttered, glancing at my phone. "I have to get to my other job soon."

Noah's face fell slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Right, of course. I wouldn't want to keep you."

I bit my lip, not wanting our encounter to end just yet, “But we could take a walk before I have to go?”

Noah's face brightened at my suggestion. "I'd love that," he said, falling into step beside me as we started walking down the sidewalk.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the pavement, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead. We walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, stealing glances at each other when we thought the other wasn't looking.

"So," Noah began, breaking the silence, "you work at a coffee shop and another place? Busy schedule."

I nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Yeah, it can be hectic sometimes, but gotta do whatcha gotta do…You mentioned earlier that you've never seen me before. Are you a regular at the café?"

Noah nodded, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. "Yeah, I usually stop by every morning…a little bit of stability and sameness in my life.”

“You don’t find that sameness boring?”

Noah shook his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Not at all. There's comfort in routine, you know? But..." he paused, glancing at me with a soft smile, nudging towards me, "I'm not opposed to a little excitement now and then."

I felt my cheeks warm at his words, and I couldn't help but smile back. "Well, I'm glad to hear that."

We strolled on, our shoulders grazing occasionally. The slight touch sent shivers through my body every time.

"I was just listening to this song by Deftones you might enjoy," he said as we walked aimlessly down the street without a plan, “Considering you like sleep token.”

"Can I try to guess?" I looked up at Noah, who stood tall above me. Despite his lanky frame, I felt small next to him and my heart raced at our closeness. With each of his strides, it felt like I had to take three steps, his Dior cologne filling my senses.

Why are you never real?

The shifting states you follow me through

Unrevealed

Just let me go or take me with you

"Is it sex tape?" I asked and Noah gave me a big grin, clearly impressed.

"I have no idea how you guessed the exact song," he chuckled, looking at me curiously.

"What can I say," I shrugged, "I'm good at reading pretty boys' minds. And it's a great song, similar vibe."

He playfully raised an eyebrow at me as we reached the crosswalk. "So you think I'm pretty?"

I watched the other side of the street and smiled as I hummed, "Well, I don't think I'd spontaneously go out with just anyone….For the record, 100 percent my type,” I said, looking at him through my lashes.

Noah's cheeks flushed with colour once again. "And what exactly is your type? I'll keep an eye out for them, just for you."

I thought about it for a moment, biting my lip. "Well, they tend to be hot brunettes with long hair and brown eyes," I trailed my gaze down his body, taking in his hands before looking back up to see the snake tattoo peeking above his hoodie collar, "and they must have tattoos...in variousplaces."

A deeper shade of red coloured Noah's cheeks. "Well, I do have tattoos in various places, if you ever feel curious."

I laughed, watching him. We stared at each other for a moment longer, my heart pounding, as his eyes devoured me before the beeping of the sidewalk timer pulled my attention away from him.

“I have to admit, this is probably the strangest thing I’ve ever done,” I confessed, shaking my head in disbelief as we walked along the park path.

“What do you mean?” Noah asked, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets as he looked between me and the path ahead.

"Going on a ‘date’ with someone I know nothing about," I started, trying to keep things light. "For all I know, you could be a serial killer."

Noah chuckled. "Valid point. This wasn't exactly how I expected to spend my Tuesday evening either, but I do find a dash of danger titillating.”

I grinned at him. "So you're not a serial killer then?"

"Not that I know of. Pretty sure that's not something I would get enjoyment from," Noah laughed, but I noticed he looked away, eyes becoming distant.

“So who are you then?” I asked as Noah and I followed each other down the park path towards the neighbourhood. The wind was picking up slightly, causing me to shiver and pull my sleeves over my hands, fingers intertwining together in my hoodie pouch. We were walking along a path by the inner city river, the leaves of the birch trees swaying as they danced along to nature’s beat.

As I strolled next to Noah I felt an odd sense of comfort, despite knowing absolutely nothing about the man beside me. I eyed him, his hair flying behind him, eyes squinting through the wind.

Noah seemed to ponder my question for a moment, his eyes scanning the water beside us. "I'm just a guy trying to figure out his place in the world, I guess," he said, “I don’t know who I am.”

As the river rushed by, his words hung in the air, washing away memories of the city and carrying them through the earth in a predetermined path.

"Sometimes I feel like a lost soul," He said softly, his eyes distant as if lost in thought.

I nodded, understanding his sentiment. "I think we all do at times."

Noah let out a low chuckle, pulling himself back to reality. "There's much more to your story though," he prodded.

I shrugged nonchalantly, trying to deflect his question. "I suppose everyone has a past."

He looked at me intently, pulling his hoodie over his head to shield himself from the wind. "What's yours? You're not from around here."

I arched an eyebrow, curious about how he had determined this information. "How did you know?" I inquired.

"Your accent," he replied with confidence. "And I haven't seen you around before. I'm pretty familiar with the area."

"Ah, makes sense." I nodded, amused by his observation. "I just moved here from Canada."

"You left the Great White North for this dump of a city?" Noah scoffed, surprised. "You could have gone anywhere in the world, and you chose LA?"

"They call it the City of Dreams," I defended with a shrug. "Plus, I needed to get as far away as possible."

Noah fell silent for a moment, deep in thought. We continued our walk in silence towards the houses.

"Running away from something?" He finally asked, barely above a whisper. Noah's eyes met mine as he tried to read me for an answer.

I let out a sigh, giving him a small smile. "Always."

"Who or what?" Noah prodded further, leaning in with interest.

"Ghosts, demons," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. "And people too."

We shared a laugh, our voices blending into a beautiful melody that I never wanted to end.

"I left everything behind - everything I've ever known," I began, but turned my head away to avoid his gaze.

I took a deep breath before admitting, "My parents were killed when I was thirteen."

Usually, people would immediately apologize and offer their condolences, but Noah remained silent, letting me continue.

"After that, I bounced around different foster homes because no one wants to take in a teenager."

Noah hummed, encouraging me to keep talking. We strolled down the sidewalk, passing houses as we neared my own. I couldn't help but stare at it as we passed by, but I quickly focused on the path ahead.

"Unfortunately, I fell in with the wrong crowd and ended up involved with some really bad people who only wanted me for what I could give them," I said with a hint of bitterness. "But I worked my ass off to get out, and now I have my own place in an entirely new part of this earth."

I smiled at the brunette, feeling grateful for his willingness to listen. He returned the smile and gave me a knowing look, almost as if he understood.

Noah's attention turned toward the houses we passed. His gaze was intense as he scanned each one carefully.

"Sorry for dumping all that on you," I said with an uncomfortable laugh. "I don't know why I just told all that to a stranger."

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "We're not strangers anymore," he said. "More like acquaintances."

I felt reassured by his words and couldn't help but ask about him. "So what about you? You seem pretty mysterious."

Noah fell into silence, his brows furrowed in thought once again. His gaze scanned the grass intently as if searching through memories. Eventually, he turned back to me with a small grin.

“I’m…just Noah,” He said; but as I stared into his eyes, devouring his soul, I saw that he was much more than that. His eyes held a depth of emotion that hinted at hidden truths and untold tales. But I didn't push. After all, we had only just met.

"Well, 'just Noah,'" I said with a playful smile, "I'm glad our paths crossed today."

He returned my smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Me too. More than you know."

chapter two

+++++

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken

@princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant

@veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs

@flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @judging-from-afar @darkmxgician @badomensls

@hoe-for-daddywise @philomenie @xxkittenkissesxx @venturethroughtheveil @thefallennightmare

@blend-in-with-the-madness @reyadawn @deathblacksmoke @Anameunmusical @sitkowski

@anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @rumoured-whispers @artificialbreezy

#burning out fanfic #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #nicholas ruffilo #jolly karlsson #nick folio #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #smut #bad omens smut

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strawberrymilk-sunshine · 6 days ago

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I hope it never updates!

What can I say? Inspiration suddenly struck. I hope it continues to, but I can't make any promises.

Warning(s): the formatting of this story will be a bit different compared to my other fics (exactly how will be immediately obvious), implied self aware character, yandere first person pov, gender neutral first person pov/reader, holding someone captive technically

Hi guys!!!!!!! Sooooooooo............ this is going to be a little bit of a... different post.

So Twisted Wonderland got an update recently. It's for Cay-Cay's birthday! I was so exciteddddd (frequent readers will know how much I LOVE Cay-Cay~✩) you know me, I was r e a d y to use the keys he gave me at log-in to pull on his latest birthday banner~

Aaaaaaaand that was when my game crashed ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ 💔 it's not like it was that big of a deal, but it's still annoying!!!!

But for some reason, my game is acting strangely now...

It's not something that messes with the gameplay or anything, and it's not corrupted or broken (that I know of??? I'm so bad with tech stuff sorry >.<) I still had all my cards, so I really couldn't care less about whatever caused the crash or if it messed with anything tbh, in my mind: all's good!~✩

I logged back on and it looked like everything had saved before the crash, the game skipped the log-in bonus screen and the birthday message from Cay-Cay, and when I went back to the gacha tab I still had the tenfold key set, so everything looked okay, for now. So I pulled on Cay-Cay's platinum jacket birthday card! you've all seen how much I suffered getting the bloom birthday card last February, so I was hoping to everything that he'd come home easily this year (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)........... AND GUESS WHAT??? HE DID!! Aaaaaa guys he loves me soooo much it's unreallll♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ :D

But........... that's when the weird stuff really started. You know I've always looked for spoilers the moment a new event that includes Cater comes out, scary monsters, firelit sky, tsumsted, playful land, beans day, his club card, his birthdays... hell, even his chef and new years cards!!! I'm a fiend for Cay-Cay, I love him so much!! Honestly I don't even care if I like how the outfit looks anymore, I just loooove Cater Diamond!!!!

That's getting a bit outside the point, oopsies- The point is, I already know ALL of platinum Cay-Cay's voice lines, summon line, vignettes, home screen lines, and obviously all his battle and levelup and guest room etc lines, since those stay the same. I have everything memorized atp! So, of course I noticed when there was a completely different line than expected once he successfully came home. You know, the part of the summon that has a teeny tiny story dialogue segment?

Platinum jacket Cater is supposed to say something about how the museum he's visiting is more than a century old, then goes on about tagging a selfie. But for some reason, the line was slightly....... off??????????? It was worded differently than it should have been, and Cay-Cay didn't even say "hashtag" before saying his post tags! Can you believe that?!

Obviously I assumed it was just a translation mixup. I know twst en has that sometimes; changing a line that implies Cay-Cay is bi, getting rid of the word "master" in relation to Jamil's hypnotism, forgetting that Floyd calls Vil "betta chan senpai" (tho that mistake might also be on jp server, tbh I can't remember lol sorry Floyd but I only have eyes for Cay-Cay~♡) shit man they even called Kalim "Kamil" at one point in the endless halloween night event! With all those issues, and how the game is translated in general, I really really didn't think anything of it that Cay-Cay's summon line was a bit different than I thought it would be.

But then the weird things just....... kept happening??????? Cay-Cay's home lines were different than they should be, and some of them actually looked like they changed every single time?? But I just thought I was misreading, who wouldn't assume that?! Especially since I've been awake for two days straight---

So I just went to sleep for the night (day?) and assumed the game would be back to normal when I was back to normal!

I woke up at liiiiiike 7pm?? It's a bit hard for me to tell, I'm always in such a haze when I wake up! I'm completely conscious and safe, I just don't really know what's going on for a good hour or so after I first wake up, just how I am and how I've always been ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭ sadly this means this part won't be very coherent, but it's so vivid in my mind even despite the wakeup fog bc like..... I could NEVER have expected what I experienced.

I still needed to level up platinum Cay-Cay since I was too sleepy to earlier, so I immediately went to do that! I gave him all the honey he could ever want (I felt soooo bad since he doesn't like sweets 💔) and thanks to the birthday levelup rate bonus, I got excellent and was actually able to entirely level him to max immediately! I obviously did the same with his vignette lvl and spell lvls and buddy lvls (THANK YOU TWST EN 3RD ANNIVERSARY UPDATE 😭) and used my ssr perfumes to fully uncap him♡♡♡♡

I was sooooo happy to just have alone time with him, it feels like the game never allows that in the stories ughhhh why must Ace of all things be this game's favouriteee....... Cay-Cay deserves it so much more and I will argue that until I die ಠ⁠︵⁠ಠ

Sorry, sorry, back to it again! I went back to the card lvl tab, since I fully uncapped him and had to do more levelling since I forgot to uncap beforehand (silly me!) and that's when I noticed the strangest thing of all.......

The level line was....... different? And like, way too different for it to just be me not remembering the line properly. It looked like the way he speaks when he drops the act, but not trying to hide it? The text wasn't shown to be just his thoughts, it was written like he was actually speaking. The line wasn't voice acted or anything either. A voice line still plays, but it was clearly his second default levelup line, not whatever this was???

You know me. Even if it's unrealistic, I immediately assumed the worst lol, I thought someone hacked and modded my account or something!!!!! AGAIN, I know this is unrealistic so there's no need to make fun of me, I was outtttt of it :( Then, you know, panic started happening. I thought I'd get banned or something (emotions have already been really bad lately, and I did not need this stress!!)

The weird lines just kept happening after that. My panicking went away eventually, and I started realizing, none of these strange lines had proper voicing or model work, they always borrowed the voicing and model work from other normal lines. So, I could definitely tell these were completely outside the regular pool of voice lines. That made the panicking worse, sadly, since I thought more than ever that these were added by an outside force... of course I was also still worried about getting banned, but also that would mean someone was messing with my lovely precious Cay-Cay!! >:(

After the panic 2.0 -now featuring slight rage- settled, I started truly reading these weird lines. They never repeated, each one was unique. He started talking about someone "outside"???

Ahhhh, but that's when the best thing happened~♡! I said something out loud, and Cay-Cay actually directly responded with the next line!! It referenced what I said perfectly... like it couldn't have been randomly generated, or even ai (but then again, I said I don't know much about tech), it felt like someone I have conversations with regularly responding to me....

And after that, I was just so............

..happy.

That's it, I was happy.

I was happy that he was actually talking to me.

I didn't care what he was really talking about, I just knew he was.... there. And he could understand me.

Cay-Cay was speaking directly to me.

He said he was trapped in there, somehow... and he wasn't Cay-Cay, just some guy stuck using him to communicate... ehhh, he explained it all in so much detail, but if I'm being honest, I really didn't give less of a shit about what he was actually saying!

I didn't care, because he was trapped.

Cay-Cay was trapped.

He was trapped with me.

And you know what? I was happy. I was so, so happy that he was trapped.

All of you know how much I love Cay-Cay, and hey, I'll even be the first to admit that it's a liiiiiittle bit of an obsession with him. I just love him so, so much. Cay-Cay is just so important to me... he's such a perfect character..... everything about him. Everything.

I love him.

I love him so much that I'll even accept someone who just resembles him in looks alone. I can make them act like how they're supposed to.

That's why this was such a wonderful situation! I had a sentient Cay-Cay just......... literally in the palm of my hand, and I couldn't be happier.

I love him... I love him so purely, so wholely, anyone reading this will know...

It doesn't matter if Cay-Cay doesn't act like how he should yet, I can help him. That's why I don't care about his problems, he's just solved all of mine. My game is perfect now, I hope it never updates! I love him!!

Dearest readers, I'm living my fangirl dream!! I'll talk to you all later, Cay-Cay and I have a date set up tonight, and I gotta get ready~!✩

#i wanted to write something a bit different #i actually had so much fun with this #so i hope people like this!!#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #cater diamond #cater twst #cater twisted wonderland #twst cater #yandere reader #(kind of)

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the-violet-diaries · 15 days ago

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Your- no, Our- Scent: Zayne x Reader

Summary: One night, you come home from a long day at work to make a new discovery: The loving partner you've always known to walk with his head high and hide all emotions beneath an icy-cold demeanor seems to be feeling more than just a bit down. But don't you fear, Dr. Zayne! Your beloved knows exactly what you need to feel better and return to your normal, healthy, self again, both mentally and physically!

Word Count: 2,960 (lol im so sry if its way too looong)

A/N: Hey, nice to meet you! I'm sure no one knows me yet, but my name is Violet. New in the tickle community (and LaDs community in general although ive been playing for a long time now). Practically live for LaDS. I hope to get along with all the other authors in this community❤️❤️. Sorry for just barging in like this unannounced! I'll apologize in advance because I know my first ff won't be the best, please feel free to give suggestions since I know everyone has much more experience than me! I will work to improve and try to start posting at least once in a week😅! With this fic about Zayne officially being my first work, I decided to make it more centered on my own personal life. I'm a loner, an extremely introverted quiet homebody. I suffer from depression that leads me into endless holes of emptiness and sadness for no specific reasons. That part of me is kind of what came to shape my fondness for tickling! I hope anyone else going through this can find solace in this fic! Here's to a great future with our boys! (even if LaDS isn't your fave fandom) 🌠❄️🐦‍⬛🐣🍎

P.S. The people I've tagged are just some authors I really look up to cause I admire your works! Thx!

This is a tickle fic btw!

~₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊~

You've just come back from a long and exhausting day at work at the Hunter's Association. You step into you and Zayne's shared apartment, tiredly walking down the hall towards the bedroom. Pushing open the door, you see Zayne lying on the bed, his face turned towards the large window as he looks out at Linkon City's nightscape. His expression is somewhat empty, emotionless. Something seems wrong. You take a step forward.

Zayne can sense your presence, the atmosphere in the room shifting slightly. He doesn't turn to look at you, not right away. Instead, he continues staring out the window, the silence hanging heavily in the air, broken only by the sound of the soft rain outside.

Eventually, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're back late."

You walk over, putting your purse on the nightstand as you stand by the foot of the bed. "How was your day?"

Zayne finally turns his head, his gaze moving to fix on you. There's a weariness in his eyes, a tiredness that he usually hides behind his usual cool facade. He takes a moment before replying, his voice low and quiet.

"Long. Busy. The hospital, the same as always. And yours?"

You take off your coat and hang it on the nearby chair where Zayne's white doctor's scrubs already sway in the occasional warm breeze coming from the heater on the floor, getting into the bed. You lie down next to him, both of you just staring up at the ceiling. The room hangs in dullness, a monotonous feeling you don't usually experience when you're with Zayne. "The same. Missions, assigned one after another. Fighting, maybe around seventy Wanderers today."

Zayne turns onto his side, facing you. He says nothing for a few moments, just studying your face in the dim light. There's a faint scent of the outside clinging to your skin. He reaches out, his fingers gently tracing a drop of rain on your cheek.

"You're damp." His gaze falls on your hunter's uniform, the black and red leather soaked.

You nod. With nothing else to say, you decide on just stating the obvious. "It was raining. A little too much."

Zayne's fingers continue their path down your cheek, lingering for a moment on the soft skin of your jawline before they move to a strand of your wet hair.

"You could've just avoided the downpour, you know. Instead, you chose to come in like this. You'll catch a cold, Y/N."

You turn from the ceiling to look at him. You crack a half-smile, a lousy attempt at lifting the mood a bit. "Of course. Of course you know that I would run through the rain like a maniac any day than be a sane person and use an umbrella. No matter how long the distance from the Hunter's Association to the bus station."

Zayne can't help but chuckle back softly at your lighthearted comment, his eyes softening as he looks at you. His hand wanders back to your cheek, his touch tender.

"That I do. How could I ever forget my lover's bold and wild personality? How admirable."

His gaze roams over you, his eyes taking in the sight of you in your work outfit. It's a sight he's become quite fond of.

You finally bring a hand to gently caress his cheek with the tips of your fingers. Concern and softness line your face and voice. "What is it, Zayne? Why the long face tonight?" There. You've broached the topic.

He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. It's as if he's savoring the feel of your fingers on his skin, grounding him in the moment.

"It's nothing, dear. Just a long day."

But even as the words leave his mouth, Zayne knows that's only partly true. There's something lingering beneath the surface, something that's been troubling him all day. "Just... work. The usual. Nothing I can't handle."

He shifts a little on the bed, turning onto his back. He's still looking up at the ceiling, the lines on his forehead deepening as his thoughts seem to weigh heavily on his mind.

Your eyes watch Zayne turn away, a soft smile appearing on your lips. Then the smile fades into an indifferent expression as you suddenly push yourself onto your palms and move swiftly, gently straddling him. You look down at him with a teasing yet nonchalant look in your eyes. One hand resting on one side of Zayne's head, your other hand comes down to gently prod at his side. Your voice comes out low but affectionate, teasing him with a poker face. "Oh, is that so?"

Zayne's eyebrows raise in surprise as you suddenly move to hover over him. It's definitely not something he was expecting, though he can't say he's complaining. He doesn't resist, allowing you to get comfortable on top of him. A hint of curiosity flickers in his eyes as he looks up at you, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Y/N? Wh-what are you doing, l-love?"

You lean down just a bit to look into his eyes with a fond but mocking gaze, your hand continuing to gently tickle his side. The hint of a teasing smile ghosts your lips. "You used my shampoo again, didn't you?"

Zayne can't seem to grasp what you're trying to do, what relevance this has with the situation at hand.

His forehead wrinkles in confusion, looking up at you with a sense of bewilderment and curiosity. But the feather-like touches very quickly start to get the best of him. A little too quickly. Zayne can feel the corners of his lips twitching, a slight grin breaking through despite his best efforts to hold it back.

"Wh-at? Your shahampoo? Wh-whahahat does thahat-"

His body involuntarily twitches a little in response to your tickling. Zayne's lips purse, trying to suppress his smile as he looks up at you with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

"A-ahahnd whaht i-if I dahaiid?"

A hint of defensiveness sneaks into his voice. He doesn't deny it, but he's not exactly confessing either. Zayne's eyes narrow slightly as he tries to figure out where this is going.

The nonchalant smile tugging at the corners of your lips grows just a bit as you continue to poke and prod at the skin from the outside of the soft material of his cardigan . "After I constantly told you not to?"

Zayne's eyes flicker with a hint of guilt. He's caught, he can't deny it. Your insistence had clearly fallen on deaf ears, but he wasn't expecting you to call him out on it.

"I…m-miahaight have- aha- uused it a t-time or- ahah- two. N-now lehet m-me-"

Zayne's eyes stare up at you. Although his expression is sheepish, teeth briskly biting down on his lower lip in a desperate attempt to suppress his growing smile, he's really trying to find clues in your stoic demeanor, trying to decipher the meaning behind all this.

Your poker face doesn't budge, but the slightly amused look in your eye hints that you could chuckle a bit just about now at Zayne's broken and flustered confession. Your hand delivering another swift poke to his stomach cuts him off. "Would you remind me, Zayne, how many times have we gone through this?"

Zayne flinches slightly at the poke, a small frown forming on his lips. He knows he's in trouble now, but he still tries to play it cool. He stutters, his tone becoming slightly defensive.

"A f-few t-tahahiimes, I- ahaha!- g-guess! Y-Y/N! Wh-What aahare y-you-"

You can't keep yourself from letting out the low chuckle that finally leaves you as you look down at Zayne's confused and giggling expression as he struggles to give in to the temptation to laugh full-on. Your hand quickens a bit, traveling to his chest with teasing touches. "Hmm, is that so?" You hum in a low voice.

Zayne tries his best to maintain his composure, he really does. But the look in your eyes, the way you're straddling him, your hand still gently tickling his sensitive spots…it's all too much. He can't quite hide the hint of embarrassment in his voice as he giggles, his body jerking sharply underneath you. He glances away, his face flushed.

"S-sthahap! P-plahese! Wh-why d-dahaoes this- Ahaah!-"

It's becoming increasingly difficult for Zayne to maintain his stoic demeanor. You bite back a smile of your own. How cute. Looking into his confused and panicked eyes, your bring your hand lower to his stomach, slipping your hand under his cardigan to drag slow, maddening circles around his navel. "Zayne, dear, would you care to answer a question for me? Would you count stealing as a crime?"

Zayne blinks. He definitely wasn't expecting that. Yet at the same time he's wearily aware of where this is all going, and he doesn't like it. He tilts his head a little, eyes flickering curiously amidst his helpless laughter.

"U-uahahm, yes! Y-yes, I w-wahahaould s-say that steahahealing c-could be c-cahahonsidered a c-crime!"

You hum. "Then would you consider yourself an offender? Of course, if the stolen item was my shampoo."

Zayne's expression flickers for a moment, but as much as he hates to admit it, he has no choice but to submit to his deeds. Just any means by which he can get himself out of this situation. He glances away for a moment in an attempt to hide the very rapidly rising blush on his cheeks, his lips parted as sweet giggles pour out.

"I-Y-yes! I-i hahave c-committed a g-greahaht c-crime! Y/N! I-I b-beg yhahaour f-forgivenahaess! P-please hahave m-mercyaha!"

You tilt your head to the side, your hand rising higher towards his ribs. "Is that so? Then Zayne, darling, would you kindly tell me what all offenders require?"

Zayne swallows thickly, his eyes darting down to your hand as it moves higher towards his ribs, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. His eyes widen with alarm, body squirming and jerking sharply under your touch, but it's too late. There's no escape now.

"N-NoaAha! Pl-pleahase d-doahaon't! Y/N! DHAHAON'T-"

His arms immediately flail, his hands coming up, desperately grabbing, pushing, pulling, doing anything in a hopeless attempt to take hold of your skilled fingers in his. You watch Zayne's face contort, unable to hold back the involuntary spasms of giggles and laughter that overtake him as he struggles underneath you. You can't help the smile that tugs at your own lips at the sight. No matter how much Zayne might lift in the gym or how sharp-witted he may be at the hospital, he's helpless right now. Completely helpless. And the best part is, he knows it. Too well.

You're quick to pin one of his arms under your knee and the other down against the bed with one hand as your free hand taunts at the exposed skin of his underarms. You lock eyes with Zayne, his own widening in surprise and panic amidst the helpless giggles that bubble from his mouth. They sparkle with mischief. Your voice drops to a note even lower. "That's right. Punishment." You speak as you watch him go crazy, shaking and laughing helplessly the moment your hands come into contact with the sensitive skin.

"W-wahaait! WAIT! Y/N! HaAhAha! Y/N! N-nOt tHerEeAHaHhaha!"

Zayne's body falls into involuntary spasms. He laughs uncontrollably, his body squirming and twisting on the bed as he desperately tries to free himself, but your hold is too strong.

You simply tilt your head, looking down at him. "Hmm? Not here, you say?"

Sweet, strangled laughter flows from Zayne's mouth, his body jerking and twitching beneath you. His arms twist and pull desperately, but you've got him completely immobilized. You know he would never bring his Evol out on you, no matter how "severe" situations might get. At least, in this position, he's too weak to do even a single thing to stop you.

"N-nOhahAhah! S-sToAhahP, pl-plAHehHshese-ahA!"

Something similar to flowers blooms in your chest as you look down at Zayne's brightly lit face. His lips part in the most adorable heart-shaped smile, his eyes shut tight and crinkled with joy. A rosy pink blush stains his cheeks, his hair scattered across the bedsheets as his head shakes back and forth, almost as if trying to get rid of the feather-like but torturous sensation. As your fingers dance along the tender skin, you open your mouth to speak.

"I'll let you go. On one condition. That you answer my last question."

Zayne writhes under you, going insane at your gentle touch. As your words fall upon his ears, he nods vigorously.

"Y-yAHAhaEes! A-aNAhYthiang! J-jUsT, plEeEHAeaSe, Y/N, st-StoaHOop!"

Your hand travels from his right to his left underarm. "Would you care to tell me, Zayne, why you are so keen on using only my shampoo to wash your hair? There are so many types we buy whenever we go out shopping. Why, then, does only the soap that I use for my hair fall into your hands every time?"

Zayne shrieks, his body jerking and twitching involuntarily. He tries to reply, but all that falls out is more helpless laughter.

"HAahahaAha…! I- I L-liiaHahAke t-the smAheEhell!"

He tries to squirm away, his back arching slightly as he tries to escape your touch, but it's absolutely no use. You hum.

"The smell? Hmm, is that so? And are you implying that your shampoo doesn't have a fragrance?"

Zayne nods vigorously, tiny droplets of pure joy beginning to form in the corners of his closed eyes. His voice comes out labored, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath between fits of laughter.

"Y-yEAs! N-nOt tHe s-sSAmAhamE! hAhaHaAa…"

"Not the same? Would you care to elaborate for me?"

Zayne's eyes water slightly with mirth, completely at your mercy.

"I- b-bECahAuSe it m-mAHahaKes me th-ThIHink of y-yOuo! HaAHha! I-it remiEhEinds m-mE of y-Ahaoyou every t-time I UuhSese i-iT!"

As quickly as it had started, Zayne's playful torture comes to an end, with you bringing your hands to rest on either side of his head as you look down at him. Your eyes soften a little, just enough not to lose the teasing element in your demeanor. You let out a soft chuckle, holding his gaze. Bending down until your head is just a few inches from Zayne's ear as you take a soft inhale, you speak in a low but fond voice.

"Keep using it. It smells better on you."

You lift your head up for a moment to hold Zayne's eyes with a gaze of affectionate teasing, the nonchalance never leaving your expression. Then you gently push yourself off him, rolling over to the other end of the bed and pulling the blanket over yourself to look out the window in one swift move, your back turned towards him.

Zayne blinks, completely breathless and dumbfounded. His heaving body relaxing against the bedsheet as he tries to recover from the tickle attack, his mouth falls open slightly, the surprise, shock, and disbelief reflected on his face as he processes what you've just said. Slowly, a small smile appears on his lips, his eyes softening as he turns to look at your back.

A few moments later, you hear the soft rustling of the sheets, and then finally the familiar warmth and comfort of Zayne's body behind yours.

"Is that why you chose this topic? Because you knew it would get me feeling all fuzzy and loved for on the inside? Because you knew it would help me recover from whatever I was feeling down about? Hmm?"

You don't turn around or say anything, letting his words settle in and the silence to give him his answer. Zayne slowly presses his chest up against your back, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He gently nuzzles against your soft hair, inhaling deeply, savoring the familiar scent of his— no, our— shampoo. The rise and fall of our breaths slowly fall into rhythm. For a moment, Zayne just stays there.

Finally, he speaks in a quiet voice.

"You always know just what to say. How do you do it?"

You finally turn around to look up at him. A soft smile ghosts your lips. You lock eyes with him, tenderness and affection taking over your features. Your voice comes out laced with a sense of care, barely a soft whisper. "How do you feel, Zayne?"

Zayne looks down at you, his expression a mixture of tenderness and gratitude. His eyes hold your gaze with a mirrored fondness. His lips part just enough to release a small sigh, his hand coming up to gently caress your cheek.

"Better. So much better."

He pulls you closer, his other hand wrapping around to draw soothing circles on your side, holding you against him. You let his face nuzzle into your silky tendrils again, leaning into his warm embrace. "Much better?"

Zayne nods, his eyes fluttering closed. He feels completely at ease.

"Much better. I don't know how you do it, but you always seem to know exactly what I need to hear in the moment. Exactly what brings me out of the darkness that pulls me in, in a time of need."

Zayne feels a lump form in his throat. He looks down at you with a mix of gratitude and tenderness, as if he never wants to let go. A silent vow to protect you from anything and everything that may ever hurt you, ever dare to try and blow out your candle. Silently thanking the universe for bringing you into his life. He swallows. There's a small pause before he speaks again, his voice barely a whisper.

"Y/N. I love you."

You melt into Zayne's embrace when you see the former tears of laughter turn into those of tender love, bringing a hand to gently brush them away from his eyes. "I love you too, Zayne. Very, very much."

He looks down at you, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every detail as if it's the first time he's seen you. Then he leans forward, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

"Stay with me tonight? I find it easier to sleep when you're by my side and not rushing off to some emergency midnight mission."

Your fingers gently brush across his face, drying Zayne's tears with a tender smile on your own lips. "Always, my love. Always."

@lovelynim @jqnny @strawberriesinbloom @ticklygiggles @fourthavecafe @otomiyaa @wertzunge @ticklish-n-stuff @chibimochii

#love and deepspace tickling #love and deepspace #tickling #tickle #ticklish!zayne #zayne #lads #lads zayne #tickle fic #fan fic #tickler!reader

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