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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 5 months ago

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But Daddy I Love Him - Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: Oh hi! First of all, thanks for all the love on my last Jace fic. I'm sorry it's taken so long to post my next, I've had a crazy couple of weeks, but I wanted to make to get something out before this week's episode. I can't believe there's just 3 eps left of the season! I am hoping to get my Jace chapter fic out before then, so I have put most of my focus there. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!!

TS Prompt #8: But Daddy I Love Him

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister!Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader fall in love, much to the displeasure of the reader's father.

Warnings: smut

Jacaerys Velaryon is beautiful.

It is tourney day in King's Landing, and your eyes are stuck to him as he makes his way out into the arena. Around you, there are scattered conversations whispered not low enough, about how the prince has matured in the last year, how handsome he has become.

He has not yet put his helmet on. This leaves his hair out, curls whipping around him in the gentle breeze. He flicks his hair back and there is a chorus of awes around you. You smirk at the reaction.

"The arrogance," your father, Jason Lannister, mutters from your side. You barely spare him a glance, not wanting to remove your eyes from Jacaerys.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"He's showing off," your father says, disgust in his voice.

"It is a tourney," you say, "Isn't that the point?" He doesn't respond, just continues to monitor the arena space.

Jacaerys mounts his horse and with bated breath, you watch as he accepts the lance from the Master of Revels. His opponent is a knight you haven't met yet, a Ser Estermont. He has done well in the tourney so far, though, which makes you nervous.

As both men prepare to make their joust, you lean forward in your seat, needing to see as closely as possible, what is about to happen.

Unlike the matches before, this one is over in one round. Jacaerys aims his lance to the perfect angle, and expertly knocks over the knight from Greenstone.

Applause erupts from the viewing gallery, and you nearly stand up and cheer, you are so relieved about his win. Jacaerys rides around the stands and stops in front of the gallery you sit in. He lifts off his helmet and smiles in a way that makes your heart race.

"Lady Y/N," he says, and you think you hear discontented sighs from behind you. "Might I request your favor, that I may excel through the rest of this tournament?" You smile and reach for your wreath of flowers. For one moment, your father grips your wrist, as if he means to keep you from going. But it does not last long. No matter what your father may think of Jacaerys, he is still the prince, and future heir to the the throne. To deny him would mean scandal.

As you approach the railing, you try to fight off the grin at seeing him. Jacaerys extends his lance so that you may drop the wreath onto it easily.

"Thank you, My Lady," he says, eyes locked onto yours.

"Good luck, My Prince."

He rides off into the arena, garnering more applause from the stands, as you return to your seat. There are jealous eyes upon you. Even your father looks angry. But you pay them no mind. There will be more rounds, and Jacaerys is sure to succeed time and again, which will have him request the favor of more ladies.

Smiling as you sit down, you think of the girls who will bestow upon him their own wreaths. You might even feel bad for them, for surely, they will assume that his attention means he might court them. But you know that his affections lie only with you.

To you, the prince was just Jace, and you had loved him since you were a girl. Three months ago, he had declared his love for you, too, and ever since, the two of you had been hiding your love, waiting for the right moment to proclaim your intentions.

"He did quite well," you say to your father, making another effort to talk up Jacaerys to him.

"Ser Estermont was an easy opponent," your father says, disinterest and dismissal reflected in his tone.

Once the tournament is over, Jace makes his way into the castle. Several lords and ladies stop him on his way, congratulating him on his victory. He thanks them in passing, his thoughts only on getting into the castle, where he knows he will find you.

There is a feast to be held after the tournament, and while most everyone heads that way, he dismisses himself, saying he wishes to change before then.

When he turns down the hallway towards his quarters, the area is empty. The guards that usually stand at his door were at the tourney and are now sitting down for the feast.

You come around the other end of the hallway, your red dress immediately drawing his eye. You glance around cautiously before breaking into a run, launching yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, laughing as his arms settle around you.

"Oh," you say on a breath, pulling back just enough to face him, "You have no idea how worried I was for you."

"Have you so little faith?" he asks with a smile.

"I believed in you," you say, hand to his chest, "But belief doesn't change the fear that comes at watching a lord twice your size sprint at you with a lance."

"I'm alright," he says, his hands running gently along your back. You smile at him and lean in to kiss his lips softly. Jace hums contentedly into the kiss, his arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulls you into a corner and deepens the kiss.

Together, you stay locked there for a long moment, relishing the quiet that is so hard to find. Jace's hands travel through your hair and over your body, greedy to get his fill of you while he has you.

"I should get to the feast," you say softly when you break for air, your forehead pressed to his.

"Stay with me," he says, entwining his hand with yours.

"My father will be looking for me," you say. Jace's smile drops. "I'm trying," you say, "To sway him to our favor."

"I know you are."

"Your victory today should help with that," you say, giving him a small smile. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you, My Lady," he says with a laugh. "I'll see you at the feast."

"Yes, My Prince."

By the next week, your father's attitude still hasn't changed. At the feast, you tried to talk about the prince, but he wouldn't hear anything of it. Jace had even come over to greet your family. Your father was diplomatic and only spoke to the prince for as long as he had to.

"I don't get why he won't give his blessing," you say, looking down at Jace. His head is in your lap, his eyes closed. He is so peaceful at this moment, you hate to bring this up again, but there seem to be fewer and fewer times for the two of you to be together. Even now, you are supposed to be with other ladies of the court, practicing your needlework. Instead, you snuck off to the Godswood to be with Jace amongst the blossoming trees.

"I'd be queen one day," you continue. "What more could he want for me?" Jace opens his eyes and looks at you with a frown.

"It's because of the rumors about me," he says lowly. You want to say he's wrong, but you wouldn't even believe yourself. The rumors of Jace's parentage had only grown in the last few years. It seemed that as he became older, and King Viserys grew sicker, the accusations only multiplied.

"I don't care about that, though," you say brushing your fingers through his hair.

"You should," he says, taking your hand in his own. "There are some who would see my brothers and I slain, rather than see us inherit our birthright."

"All the great houses swore allegiance to your mother," you say, squeezing his hand. "And you are her trueborn son. To do so would be--"

"Treason," he says, "But there are still those who would try it."

"My father wouldn't," you say. "As stubborn as he is, he is loyal to King Viserys, and by extension, your mother." Jace sits up, a serious expression on his face.

"Tensions are high amongst my family," he says, taking your hands in his. "In the entire kingdom, really. I am worried what may happen. Your father is smart, and that is why he must worry, too."

"You all fear something that may never come to pass," you say, "Are we to be separated in the name of what ifs?"

"We are to be separated until we can convince your father that I can keep you safe."

"And how do we do that?" you ask. Jace lays his head back on your lap.

"I don't know," he says.

The room is dark when you enter your father's quarters that night. He sent word to your lady's maid to see him immediately, but she couldn't find you until now, because you and Jace had been intwined in the Godswood all afternoon.

"Lady Clegane said she did not see you today," your father says right away, before you can even greet him. "Were you not to be under her tutelage this afternoon?"

"I don't need to study my needlepoint, Father," you say, stopping in front of him. "No man alive cares how well his wife can stitch."

"You were with the prince, weren't you?" he asks, standing. He towers over you, but you hold your head high, meeting his gaze.

"Why don't you like him?" you ask. He merely shakes his head.

"It is not a daughter's job to pick her husband," he says, "That duty lies with her father."

"And who would you have me marry instead? A lesser lord of the Westerlands? Someone directly under your control?"

"If that is what I demanded, yes," he says, bracing your arms. "I raised you to obey me, Y/N."

"No, you raised me to cage me," you say, tugging from his grip. "I would be Jacaery's queen! There isn't a more advantageous match out there for me. Yet you refuse to even hear us out, because it is not of your doing!" His face reddens, a telltale sign of his rage. You have never raised your voice to him before, and are now slightly scared of what he may do.

"I think it's time you return to Casterly Rock," he says lowly.

"What?" you ask, momentarily stunned.

"Your time in King's Landing is over," he says firmly. "You have become disobedient and careless."

"Father--"

"Do you think I am the only one who sees it, Y/N?" he asks, taking your hands in his desperately. His eyes are wide and pleading. "Do you think no one saw the two of you in the Godswood today? That no one can see the secret looks you exchange? That family is shameless, and I will have you take no part in it.

"I will not allow your reputation to be ruined by the prince's," he says. Tears begin to form at the finality of his words.

"When do I leave?" you ask, setting your jaw as you fight off the tears.

"I'll escort you the day after tomorrow, so you can make your goodbyes," he says. He can't meet your eyes.

"Very well."

Jace is speechless when you tell him. He found you sitting outside of his chambers the next night, tears streaming down your face. He invited you inside, a hurtle the two of you had yet to pass until then, and held you close while you told him your fate.

"We'll only have tonight," you say quietly.

"Maybe it's for the better."

"How can it be when it separates us?" you ask, looking up at him with watery eyes.

"Just for now," he says, brushing your hair back gingerly. "When things relax, we can try to convince him again."

"How long will that be?" you ask, "He'll have me married off as soon as possible, I know." Jace frowns down at you, his eyes searching for an answer in yours, that he knows he can't find.

"I won't stop fighting for you, Y/N," he says. "I promise."

"I won't either."

"We'll find a way," he says. You nod your head, a new wave of tears incoming, and relax into his chest. He holds you in his arms for a long time, his had tracing patterns along your back. The fire is nearly out in his hearth, and the room grows dark quickly.

"When did he say he wanted you back?"

"Fuck what he said," you say, looking at him intently. "I am not leaving your side tonight." With a hand to his cheek, you bring your lips together. The kiss is slow, a bit salty with the tears streaming down your face, but it is all he has ever wanted. He tries not to think about the fact that this might very well be the last time he ever gets to taste your lips, ever gets to hold you.

But it seems that your thoughts go there as well. Quickly, the kiss turns passionate. Your teeth scrape against his lip, like you can take him with you to Casterly Rock. His hands move down your body, to places he hasn't dared to explore yet. As one, the two of you move, so that he has you pinned to the couch, his body atop yours in a way he's only dreamed about before. You moan into his kiss as his body rocks into yours.

“Y/N,” he says breathlessly, forcing himself to break away from your kiss. Your lips are red, swollen from his touch. Your hair is spread out around you in a cascade of curls. It is torture to see you like this and not bring his body clashing into yours again.

“What?” you ask, your hand trailing down his chest, as if you need to touch him however you can.

“We should stop.”

“Why?”

“If anyone ever found out, you would be disgraced. Your father already doesn’t like me, I don’t want to give him any other reason to—“

“I’ll tell you something right now,” you say, “My good name is mine alone to disgrace. Being here with you now, doesn’t change a single thing about my honor.”

"Are you sure?"

"I need you, Jace," you whisper. You are barely able to finish the words before his mouth meets yours again, fiercer than before. He doesn't stay there too long. He needs to taste you everywhere, savor every moment he's got left with you.

His lips move across your face and down your neck. He loves the sounds you make when he bites down softly, the way your back arches your body into his. He sits the two of you up for just a moment, so that he can pull at the laces along your back.

When the top of your dress falls, he stares at your bare chest for a long moment. You smile at him, your skin flushed.

"You are so beautiful," he says. You grab hold of his face, kissing him again as you fall back onto the couch. Jace palms your breast, kneading gently as you whimper into his mouth. You pull at his clothes, too, until you rip his shirt off over his head.

Skin to skin now, Jace breaks from your lips to kiss down your chest. He lingers for a moment on your breasts, but his need to take you is growing too urgent. He moves down lower, tugging your dress down with him until you are fully exposed to him.

"Y/N," he says on a sigh, marveling at the sight of you.

"I love you."

"I love you," he says, dropping his lips to the folds at your center. The moan you let out is nearly enough to send him over, but he won't deny himself the opportunity to feel what it's like to be inside of you. He focuses on your pleasure, kissing the sensitive bud at the apex of your thigh, watching your face with rapt attention, seeing what action makes you cry out, which makes you thrust into him.

When you cry out his name, his watches proudly as your body clenches, waves of pleasure roll through you. Jace keeps up his actions for a few moments longer, tasting and savoring the moment as you come down.

When he sits up, he watches the rise and fall of your chest, the satisfied smile on your face. He kisses your lips passionately, treasuring the little sounds of happiness you make as he does.

He drops his trousers next, rubbing his cock against your slick folds. He presses into you slowly, barely able to keep his control, his need is so great. You gasp as you take him in, grabbing hold of his shoulders. He begins to rock into you, his movements gentle. As your sounds become more frequent, he picks up his pace, until the only sound he can hear is your cries of pleasure, and the collision of your two bodies.

He comes soon after that, his body collapsing on top of yours. For a long while, the two of you lay there, sweaty and happy, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

"Jace," you say on a breath, breaking the silence first.

"Yes, my love?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours.

"This cannot be the last time," you say, cupping his cheek.

"It won't be. We'll find a way, I swear."

It's early morning when you return to your chambers. Your father collects you an hour later, and although the look he gives you suggests that he knows where you were, thankfully, he doesn't say anything.

The journey to Casterly Rock is long, taking nearly three weeks, and the entire time, your thoughts are on Jace. You bring him up a few times with your father, but after the most recent, he stops looking at you, stops speaking altogether, and rides astride his horse, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

When the news of King Viserys's death breaks, you hear it from your lady's maid. You shoo her away when she tries to finish braiding your hair. You know you should feel sad - Viserys was a great king, and had been sick for a long time. The last time you saw him, he looked like a walking corpse, and you had to avert your gaze.

But his passing means that Rhaenyra will be crowned queen. She will return from Dragonstone, where she fled just a week after you left King's Landing, and Jace with her.

You run from your chambers and burst into your parents' quarters, and find them talking in hushed, urgent tones. Your mother turns at your arrival and the look on her face scares you. There is panic in her gaze, mixed with a sadness that seems to grow when she sees you.

"Y/N," she says softly.

"I just heard the news."

"Yes."

"I expect we'll be leaving for King's Landing soon?" you ask, looking to your father. "For Princess Rhaenyra's coronation?"

"My dear," your mother says, a hand out to call you to her side. "Maybe you should sit down."

"What is it?" you ask as she sits you down in front of their empty hearth.

"Rhaenyra is not going to be queen," your father says.

"What do you mean?"

"Aegon has been crowned."

"He usurped the throne?" you ask in shock. "Are we gathering our bannerman? Should we--"

"Y/N," your father says with a sigh, taking your hands as he sits across from you. "We won't be calling our bannerman. We are supporting King Aegon."

"You swore allegiance to Rhaenyra," you say icily, looking between your parents' faces.

"I can't explain it all to you, daughter. There is much you don't understand."

"Uncle Tyland?" you ask quietly. Certainly, your level-headed uncle would see reason, when your father could not.

"He sits upon Aegon's small council," your father says.

"How long has this been planned?" you ask, moving away from your parents. The room suddenly feels too suffocating. Watching them, waiting for their response, you catch a quick look between your parents.

"How long have you known about this, Father?" you ask, stepping closer to look him in the eye.

"Rhaenyra was never going to be queen," he says lowly. "Regardless of the parentage of her sons. Although, that certainly didn't help her cause." You pull back from him, a look of disgust on your face. "And Aegon will make a good king."

"What will happen to Rhaenyra? To her sons?" you ask, the second question coming out broken. He doesn't answer. You look to your mother, hoping for some words of support from her, but she shares the same sad look on her own face.

"You've known this for so long . . ." you say, thoughts racing, "That's why you wouldn't approve an engagement between Prince Jacaerys and I."

"Yes," he says, "And I won't feel sorry for it. He'll be killed, no doubt. I don't want the same fate for you."

"But Daddy," you cry, calling him by a name you haven't in years, feeling as helpless as if you were still that child, "I love him!"

"It's already done, Y/N," he says, pain in his eyes. You let out a strangled sound before sliding down the wall.

"I'm having his baby," you say through a sob.

"What?" your mother asks urgently, crouching at your side. "What do you mean?" But no words come to you. The tears are falling too fast, any words choked by hiccupping.

Eventually, they bring you to your room. They both asked more questions about the baby, but you don't answer them, you can't. You don't trust them.

Your father had known this fate would befall Rhaenyra, would befall her sons. He knew you loved Jace, and he still let it all happen.

The next morning, your mother comes into your room. Her eyes are bloodshot, with dark circles underneath them. She brings you a cup of tea and kisses your forehead, before she says anything.

"Tell me about the baby," she says. "Are you certain?"

"No," you admit, bringing your knees to your chest. "But I haven't had my blood in a few weeks." Your mother nods and looks down sadly at her own drink.

"You'll need to drink moon tea," your mother says softly.

"I won't."

"Then you'll need to get married immediately, and claim the child as your new husband's."

"I won't do that either."

"Y/N," she begins with a sigh.

"You've already slammed the door on my whole world, I won't let you take this one last piece of him I have. If I am to have his child, I will keep it and I won't claim it as anyone else's."

"You'll be ruined," she says. "And if Aegon finds out that your child is Jacaerys's--"

"He won't. Nobody needs to know."

"Your father won't like this," she says gently. "You do not wish to make him angry."

"He's been angry. I've made my decision."

The next week, your cycle arrives, and you cry all day long.

"Sending another raven?" Rhaenyra asks, stepping out onto the cool balcony beside Jace. He gives her a tight lipped smile and nods. "Have you heard back from her?"

"Here and there," he says. He has been sending ravens to you for the past two weeks.

"I'm sorry your feelings fell into the middle of this mess."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Mother," he says seriously. She gives him a sad smile, a palm to his cheek.

"Baela tells me you have a plan to get her out," she says. Jace looks at her with wide eyes. He hadn't technically asked her permission, and what he was doing would be dangerous for their position.

"I know I should have told you," he starts.

"Yes, you should have. I would like to help," she says. She laughs at the bewildered look on Jace's face. "Do you think I would let you suffer here, knowing she's there, probably suffering too? Tell me your plan, Jace."

So he does. He gives her the same instructions he just sent to you. She gives him her support, while offering a few suggestions. She leaves him on the balcony after, giving him space to think over his plan, and to try and quell the hope building up inside of him.

All he is waiting for is one word from you, and he will enact this plan.

A day later, a raven knocks at his window, waking him from sleep. He leaps up immediately to grab its message, and finds just one word, written in your handwriting.

Yes.

On the morning of your escape, you awake with a smile on your face. It has been weeks since you felt anything at all. Your lady's maid enters into the room to ready you for the day, and you greet her, "Good morning."

"Good morning, My Lady," she says, looking at you in bewilderment. You're not sure you've spoken to her since you arrived at Casterly Rock. "I trust you slept well, then?"

"The best yet," you say.

As she moves about the room, getting your clothing together, you make sure to pick out the dullest dress in your wardrobe. When she sits you down to do your hair, you have her tuck your tendrils into a woven braid. Everything for indiscretion, or this plan will not work out.

When you walk into the breakfast room, your parents are gathered around a table. You give them a kind smile, playing the part of the dutiful daughter, knowing that your plans for escape were all laid.

"Good morning," your mother says, an air of suspicion in her voice.

"Morning," you say, sitting down next to her. "Good morning, Father."

"You haven't forgotten about your commitment today, I hope?" your father asks.

"No, I remember I am meeting with Lord Lannys today," you say innocently. He studies you for a moment like he doesn't believe you, but then his expression changes, or he forces it to. He forces himself to believe that you have finally pulled out of your darkness.

"Perhaps I'll accompany you down there," he says, "It's been a while since I have checked in on Lannisport."

"No," you say quickly. "You said you'd let me go with just a few guards."

"So I did."

"I have so little freedom," you say, "Am I to be chaperoned every day of my life?" The look on your father's face is one of remembrance, that this is the behavior he expects from his daughter.

"You will stay close to your guards," he says firmly.

"Of course."

"Our world is not as safe as it once was."

"I know."

"Very well."

You thank him and your mother, and when you bid them farewell, it is bittersweet. You try to see them as the loving parents you had when you were younger, but now you only see the causes of your heartbreak, and know that you're making the right call.

"When will she be here?" Joffrey asks impatiently, for the third time.

"Soon, I think," Jace answers.

"Why has it taken so long?"

"You don't have to wait with me, Joff," he says with a look to the younger boy. "It takes a long time to get here from the Westerlands."

In his plan, Jace had wanted to assure that your route would not be easily followable. The plan was for you to go to Lannisport and get aboard a ship that would take you to Seaguard. From there, you would travel by horse to Gulltown, where the Arryns would assure you passage to Dragonstone.

Yesterday, he got word that you arrived to Gulltown safely. If all went well, you would be in Dragonstone anytime now.

But the waiting was agony. Many times, Jace thought about saddling Vermax and flying out to you, just to get one glimpse of you. He knew himself, though, and knew that if he saw you, even from the air, he wouldn't want to let you out of his sights. He needed to wait patiently.

He was as bad as Joffrey, though.

When he finally sees your ship on the horizon, his heart starts beating faster. He rushes from his balcony and makes his way through the castle. Joffrey tries to keep up, but Jace loses him somewhere along the steps leading down to the shore.

Jace gets to the pier just as the small boat does. He doesn't think he is breathing as you step off the boat. Your eyes are searching for his and when they find him, a smile breaks across your face. You run towards him and he does the same, meeting you in the middle of the pier.

The second you are in his arms, you break down into tears. You cling to every part of him, your hands needing to touch him, needing to know that he is well. He realizes he is doing the same, his hand tangled in your hair, the other on your back.

"Oh, it's so good to see you," you say, pulling back just enough to look him over. Before Jace can say anything, you kiss him quickly, but fiercely.

"I'm so glad you're here," he says, hugging you again. You laugh, squeezing him just as tight.

"You're probably exhausted," he says, taking your hand and leading you back towards the castle. "You've had a long journey."

"Just a month," you say with a shrug, making him laugh.

"Well, you deserve your rest. I'll bring you right to my room," he says, "But there's one thing you'll have to do first."

"What's that?" you ask, furrowing your brow.

"Speak to my mother."

Dragonstone castle is not that much different from King's Landing, but it's unfamiliar, and unwelcoming. At least, the men sitting around Rhaenyra are. As you stand before them, some of your courage starts to slip.

"I am relieved to see you here safely, Lady Y/N," Rhaenyra says with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. She stands and moves closer to you.

"I am sorry for having to do this, but seeing as your house has pledged their support to my brother, I have to ask where you allegiance lies," she says, stopping in front of you.

"With you, of course," you say immediately.

"You must know the risks, Y/N," she says, "You could very well be killed for supporting my claim and Jace's." For a moment, you glance back at your prince, and gather strength from his encouraging look.

"I'd burn my whole life down before I listen to another second of my father's scheming, and well before I bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen," you say.

"I love your son very much, I would never do anything to jeopardize his future, or yours, My Queen." Rhaenyra gives you a smile that is so much like her sons. She nods her head.

"Thank you, Y/N. Welcome to Dragonstone."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. Before you can even turn around, Jace's hand is in yours. He is looking down at you with a smile.

"Come on," he says, pulling on your hand gently. He leads you through the castle, up to his chambers, which will now be your own, he explains.

Once the doors close behind you, he is upon you, wrapping you in his arms as he kisses you. You smile into the kiss, realizing that this is not a dream, or just a passing moment. You'll get to stay in his arms for the rest of your lives.

"I love you," you say when you break away. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

"You're my lady, Y/N," he says, "And very soon I'll make you my princess. Of course I sent for you. I love you."

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body into his again as your lips connect again.

"You must be exhausted," he says breathlessly. "You'll want to sleep."

"All I want is right here."

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star-sim · 11 months ago

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hello kitty meets batman (real not clickbait!) ☆ jake sim

☆ youtuber! super down bad! bf! jake x youtuber! fem! reader ☆summary: jake sim was youtube's cut-throat, horror creator, known for his dark video style. meanwhile, you were the cutesy beauty vlogger, lighting up every algorithmically generated home page you touched. no one would have expected you two vastly different people to know each other, let alone be in a long-term relationship. ☆ genre: fluff, youtuber! au, secret dating! au, established relationship, suggestive, im sorry im never letting the ytber au go, cutesy!reader, jake is SO down bad its kinda painful #patheticmen ☆warning(s): no, just fluffy, also reader is really feminine and girly in this ☆ word count: 13.4k words ☆ wrote half of this in spanish class so im sorry if there are mistakes, first time writing established relationship in full, kinda nervy

Jake Sim was many things.

One of the most popular and well-respected content creators on Youtube was one of them.

As Jake's nimble fingers darted across his keyboard, his other hand rested firmly on his mouth, he thought that the blue light emitting from his computer screen should burn his eyes. Except, it didn't. Despite what most people thought, 90% of being Youtuber was just simply staring at a computer screen, rather than being in front of a camera lens. The man felt his nose prickle before he let out a soundless, but satisfying, yawn. He leaned back against his office chair, stretching his neck and arms before he rubbed his eyes.

There was a reason that he was an extremely respected creator on Youtube.

For one, the production quality of his videos were high. Down to the Closed Captions or his camera's grain, Jake's attention to detail was immaculate. Not to mention, the content itself was magnificent.

Whenever people asked Jake what he did for work, it was hard for him to answer.

He'd said that he made horror content, but he'd only earned incredulous looks, like he was a madman. Even then, "horror" content wasn't the correct description.

In short, Jake liked to make videos about obscure things. Which just so happened to be a little spooky. Sketchy true crime cases, searches for lost media, strange Internet phenomena, government cover-ups— Name anything a little bit eerie and Jake probably already covered something of that sort on his channel. Given the nature of his content, Jake almost always maintained a serious tone, but when the opportunity came to offer his opinion, he liked to relay it in a straightforward way.

Another reason why he was so regarded was because of his content style. He preferred using darker colors, having a crisp microphone that picked up every rasp of his deeper voice. When he had camera shots, Jake liked to be in a dimly lit room. Unfortunately, his room was dark, too.

This all combined together to create a singular image for Jake: the cool, high-quality, but a little bit scary, guy that likes to make videos about scary topics.

Now cracking his knuckles, Jake sucked in a sharp breath. Although he could easily export his upcoming video now and upload it, garnering millions of views, he refused to. There was something missing from it; it needed a little umph, a little embellishment to really pull things together. If there was one thing about Jake, it was that he'd put quality over quantity any day.

Jake is torn out of his thoughts when his phone, long forgotten next to his mouse, lit up. Usually, when he worked long afternoons like this, he silenced his phones in order to maintain focus.

However, there was always one exception.

You.

pretty girl: hi babe, do you think you can help me take promo pictures later?

The moment that Jake saw your contact show up, he picked up his phone immediately. His fingers tapped his screen, quickly responding to you.

me: yeah i can do it rn if you want

pretty girl: if youre busy, it doesn't need to be today, it can be tomorrow or something

pretty girl: oh

pretty girl: are you sure?

Of course he was.

Jake was already shutting off his monitor, grabbing his keys and shoving his feet into his shoes at your first message.

me: yeah i'll come over right now

You were Jake Sim's girlfriend. But other than the people in your personal life, no one else knew that.

Not that either of you minded.

Like Jake, you were a Youtuber. Except, your community was the complete opposite from his.

Your niche was cute makeup and lifestyle. Your videos had cute, blushy sets, characterized by cute plushies in the background and pretty, pink decorations. When you weren't making makeup tutorials or "get ready with me's," you were giving your viewers small sneak-peeks into your life. Whether it be your rosy morning skincare, or your sunny afternoon cooking attempts, or your illuminated late night thoughts, your content was light-hearted, soft, and personable.

And if you weren't doing any of those things, you were modeling.

You were a beauty influencer, so you had sponsors from different makeup companies and such. What was most distinguishable from your personal brand was that you were one of Sanrio's biggest ambassadors. If there was someone that was the living embodiment of Hello Kitty, it was you.

Your personability, and your ability to feel authentic to your viewers, was a key factor in your large viewerbase. And what contributed to that the most was the fact that you had no idea how to use a camera. One would think that a content creator would know how to use a camera, but you were somehow the exception.

Not a problem!

Because you had your boyfriend, Jake!

Who was basically the master of content creation and film, in your opinion.

"Jakey!" you pounced on your boyfriend the moment he appeared at your apartment doorway. You threw your arms around his neck, immediately peppering his neck and cheeks with kisses. You heard him let out a few chuckles, feeling the rumble of his strong chest as he did.

"Geez, babe, let me take my shoes off first," Jake teased you, taking in your sweet strawberry perfume. You immediately peeled yourself off of him, your lips forming a cute frown.

"Shut up," you murmured, punching him on the arm while you jutted your bottom lip out. The lip tint and gloss on them shined, which made Jake grin. And when you noticed that he was staring at your lips, you gave him a gentle shove before saying again, “Shut up, Jakey.”

There it was, his favorite thing about you.

You were so, very, really, undeniably, mean to him.

Okay, that sounded weird.

But it was the truth.

Your relationship could be summed up in a few words—

You were just the cutest, and could barely contain your feelings for Jake, so you'd get all cuddly and affectionate with him. He'd tease you about it, so you'd get all shy and flustered, and you would begin to be mean to him. You'd call him stupid or annoying, and you'd tell him to go away but make no effort to resist his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And then he would get to tease you more, until you were so embarrassed that you relented and let him kiss you.

How could he not resist teasing you?

You were always so pretty, with makeup or not, and it was easy to tease you since you got embarrassed so easily.

Even if he was holding his most expensive camera in his hands, he'd still let you pounce on him, if it meant that he got one extra kiss from you.

You led him to your bedroom. It had the same sweet, strawberry scent as you. Your room was pink, and along the walls were shelves, all filled with the many, many plushies that Jake bought you. Plopping onto your bed, Jake watched as you dug around your filming desk.

"Sooo," he started, "You're gonna do a promotional post on Instagram?"

You hummed. Sanrio recently launched a new line of lip tints, and they sent you their newest ones to review and promote.

"I already made a review, and it's going to go up later," you said, digging through your drawers. "I want to make a promo post, too, y'know?"

You let out an 'a-ha!' as you found what you were looking for. It was a tube of lip-tint, the newest one from the collection. You then touched up your makeup a little more.

Jake watched you in awe. The way you applied lip gloss and brushed setting powder (or was it blush? he didn't know anything about makeup) onto your cheeks was so mesmerizing, as you weren't already so captivating to him.

Finally, you stood up, straightening out your outfit. You puckered your lips, and when you noticed Jake staring at you, you gave him a little twirl.

"How do I look?" you asked.

Jake, with his camera in hand, pointed the lens at you. He looked through the viewfinder.

"Beautiful."

As always.

The shoot went smoothly. As you always did when Jake was your photographer, the two of you drove to the film studio, renting out a room for a good hour. Jake was a pro with the camera and you were an even bigger pro at modeling. Other than a few compositional edits or changes in exposure, you and Jake were done as soon as you started. The two of you decided that you’d go back to your place, cook dinner together, and maybe watch a movie.

Except that got delayed.

“Y-You’re so annoying, Jake,” you struggled out. You were in the back seat of your car, legs thrown over your boyfriend’s hips, his soft lips connected to your neck. Your fingers gently tugged on his hair, you yourself pressing soft pecks against his forehead and temples. It started because you gave Jake a kiss on the cheek as a ‘thank you,’ which spiraled into a makeout session in your car.

“What,” he breathed against your skin, dark eyes flickering up to yours. “You said you’d do anything to express your thanks for me.”

Jake kissed your neck again, before trailing up your throat to your jaw. Your fingers raked through his soft hair, pushing his dark locks out of his face so that you could see his face clearly. Jake reached up, took your hand out of his hair, and instead held your palm against his cheek, nuzzling into your warm hand. The way your eyes widened into saucers, lips parting, in response made the man’s lips curve upward.

“W-Well I thought you’d ask me to hug you… or something,” you said sheepishly, your voice soft as your boyfriend’s actions flustered you.

Jake grinned to himself internally before pulling away from you altogether.

“Then do you want to stop?” Your eyes widened a fraction. “Then, let’s go hom—“

“No!” you cut him off, your hands squeezing his shoulders. “Let’s not!”

You stared at him, brows furrowed, for a few moments, before you noticed the growing grin on your boyfriend’s face. That look you knew too well, the one that said that he was going to tease the everlasting fuck out of you.

Jake pulled you in by the waist, close enough so that your chests touched, noses almost brushing against each other. He could feel the heat radiating off your face, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“You sure you don’t wanna stop?” His voice was teasing, but you knew better. The earnest look in his eyes, you stared into yours, was filled with sincerity. He gave your waist a squeeze, almost as if to ask, “Do you actually want this?”

“Yes, Jakey,” you breathed against his lips, matter-of-factly. “I don’t wanna stop.”

The corner of his lips begin to lift.

“So you better kiss me,” you quipped, gripping his shoulders.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he rasped back, before attacking your lips.

(Later, when you were done, you two went home and went about your plan for the night. Except, you had to yell at Jake to go wash his face, because the sight of your lipstick at the corner of his lips was too much for you to take.)

"Hi, everyone!" you greeted the camera, folding your hands in your lap. With your thick, pink, knit sweater's sleeves falling over your wrists, you shot the lens a pretty smile. It was another normal day on the job of making content.

"As you guys know, VidCon is coming up soon." You pulled your makeup pouch toward your chest, leaning against the edge of your filming desk. "So, let's pack with me!"

Vidcon was an event for people to meet all of their favorite Youtubers. This year, you were invited to be one of the featured creators, given your popularity. As you filmed your "Pack with Me!" vlog, surrounded by ring lights aided by your windows cracked open, you recalled the email you had sent earlier, squeezing your eyes shut.

You see, Jake and you were both invited to VidCon. Since no one else, not even Youtube the corporation or your fellow Youtubers, knew that you guys were dating, Jake and you were given vastly different things. Youtube booked an entire hotel complex for all of its creators, and unfortunately, your room was located 10 floors below Jake's room. And worse, your booths and events were so far apart from each other that you probably wouldn't even see your boyfriend even if he decided to traverse the Convention.

That's what you got for being vastly different content creators.

This year would be the first year that you and Jake got invited to VidCon, and you two wanted to share this experience with each other as much as possible.

Which is why you just shot Youtube one of the most embarrassing emails of your life.

"Hi, Youtube. The hotel complex you booked has a bar, and it is much closer to the top than the bottom. I really want to visit that bar. Can I request a room change so that my room is maybe on the 15th or 16th floors?" except add more formalities and much more discreet language, and that was the email you sent to your employers. You knew that it wouldn't be hard, and that the Youtube PR manager wouldn't reject your request. After all, you were the Sanrio beauty girl. Regardless, you'd gotten a response about an hour ago, and your request was approved, luckily.

As you continued talking to your camera, folding your clothes neatly while chatting to your viewers about updates in your life, you thought about what you and Jake should do at VidCon. It was in the LA area, but you definitely wanted to visit other places in Southern California.

It was no surprise that you and Jake had been more than touchy and close to each other. You were dating. Still, butterflies formed in your stomach as you thought about what you would do with him. Your face heated up at the thought of you and him spending time together in the hotel's rooftop hot-tub. The idea of him sneaking in your room at night, warming you up and pepperinging your cheeks with kisses, made your heart rate speed up, and you could only relish in the thought of exploring LA, Irvine, or wherever Jake wanted to take you with him.

You were a grown woman with a job and responsibilities, but the mere thought of your boyfriend being within the same vicinity as you made you nervous.

Just as you finished folding your clothes, you heard your front door crack open.

"Babe?" you hear Jake's voice call out your name. You turn off your camera to greet him, swearing to forget all of the thoughts you just had. Except, the moment that you locked eyes with him, all determination to not be teased left your body. Your lips wobbled, trying to bite back that stupid, bashful, and lovesick smile that made its way onto your face when you thought about Jake, but your eyes gave it all away. Instead of throwing yourself at him like you usually did, you only reached for the hem of his black T-shirt, playing with it sheepishly.

You mumbled a small, "Hi."

You could feel Jake staring at you, and you could hear the way his lips curve into a smug, shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," you told him, your eyebrows crashing together.

"Baby, I didn't even say anything," Jake said, his hands finding their place on your lower back.

You felt shy and exposed before him. "Well, I know you're going to say something."

Jake grasped your chin, gently making you look at him. You tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible to avoid those dreamy, caramel eyes. Then, he took your face with both his hands, leaning in.

Was he going to kiss you? Oh my god, he was! Quick! What do you do? You felt like you were going to melt.

Instinctively, your hands tightened on the hem of his shirt, the black fabric scrunching in your fists. You closed your eyes, your lips softly puckering. You could feel him coming closer and closer, until his breath fanned your cheek.

As if he hadn't kissed you a million times before, your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest.

Jake ghosted his lips over yours, inching just close enough that he could brush his lip against yours.

And then, he pulled away from you. He took off his shoes, placed down his keys, and made his way into your bedroom, leaving you there standing alone.

Heat spread across your face and neck and ears as you realized your boyfriend had just teased you once again. You hid your face in your palms, letting out a small whine of embarrassment, before recollecting yourself and joining your boyfriend.

"Woah, what's going on here, babe?" Jake asked, standing at your bedroom doorway.

"Oh." There was clothes and film equipment sprawled across your floor and bed. "I was filming a video."

You saw Jake's expression twitch, before he took your hands in his.

"My bad, was I interrupting something?" He was sincere in how his face showed a small drop of guilt for disrupting your filming. How could someone be such a tease one moment yet be so genuine the next?

"No, it's okay, Jakey," you said. "I mean, I need to finish my video, but I don't mind if you're around."

And that's how you found yourself trying not to burst out laughing as you filmed your video. Jake kept making funny faces at you, that goofy grin growing on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"Jake, stop making faces!" you laughed, throwing a shirt at him.

He dodged it, throwing his head back into one of the plushies that he bought you. "I'm not doing anything!"

You threw another shirt at him, this time hitting him square in the face. Instead of admitting defeat, Jake only grabbed your shirt, pulling the fabric to his nose and taking a long, dramatic, sniff.

"You smell sooooo good, babe," he said, ignoring your contorted expression, "I think I'm gonna keep this. You won't mind, right?"

"Ugh, Jaaaaakee!"

You plopped on top of him in bed. You felt his chest rumble as chuckles left his lips, rolling your eyes at him. You gave his chest a smack, a pout forming on your lips.

"You're so annoying," you mumbled as his hands slithered up to your hips. He gave your ass a pat, gesturing you to adjust your position. You did, sitting up so that you straddled your boyfriend's hips.

"And you're so pretty," he said, squeezing your hipbone.

"Let go of me," you poked him in the chest, but made no attempt to get off of him.

"No."

"I need to finish my video," you pouted, still not moving to get off of him.

"I don't care." Jake instead sat up on his elbows, his hands sliding down to your lower back, his face getting suspiciously close to your boobs. "Just lay with me."

Your fingers ran through his dark locks, before giving them a tug towards your chest. Jake laid his cheek against your boobs like they were pillows, arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his hot breath against your skin and neck. The next thing you knew, he was pressing sticky kisses against your chest and neck, soft gasps escaping your lips.

"Sorry, babe," he muttered against the shell of your ear, "I just can't resist you."

You let out a soft "ahhh!" when he bit down on your skin, his teeth brushing against the nape of your neck. Jake briefly pulled away, a smirk making its way onto his face as he admired the red-purple mark on your neck.

"You're just too addicting."

Long story short, your video was still finished and uploaded. As Jake edited his video, he let yours play in the background, your bright voice illuminating his dark room. Somehow, your voice was the only thing that made him focus.

However, when he heard a familiar laugh— his laugh— in your video, Jake stopped in his tracks.

His mind flashed back to what happened the other day in your apartment, when he interrupted you during your filming.

"I don't know if I turned off my camera, Jake," you had purred as Jake's tongue dipped into your collarbone. At that point, both you and him were shirtless, hair disheveled and pupils blown out with desire. Jake remembered the electricity that ran through him as those words left your lips.

"Am I supposed to care?" he had muttered, trailing kisses down your chest. "If they hear us, that's not my problem."

It was almost like you, who edited your video, added that clip to tease him.

Immediately, his cheeks began turning the brightest shade of red possible. If you were here, he would have only coughed and looked away shyly, but since he was alone, his embarrassment spread across his face like a wildfire. Jake almost never showed it when he was flustered, at least when he was around you.

He hid his face in his palms, sucking in a sharp breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, warmth prickling his skin. You were going to be the death of him. He let out a small, lovesick giggle, one that his friends would flame him for. He couldn't help it, not if it was you.

When he read the comments, still flustered out of his mind, he felt a twinge of disappointment when no one seemed to notice him.

For some reason, Jake couldn’t help but want people to know that you were his. He knew that you and him kept your relationship private to preserve it, but he still wanted to show you off.

Except, one comment caught his eye.

“Wait, does [Name] have a boyfriend? Who laughed at 6:34?” it read. Jake’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. The warmth that spread across his chest as his lips pulled upwards. He almost wanted to jump on his bed and roll around while giggling like a schoolgirl, but he contained himself.

At the corner of his eye, Jake spotted a certain plushie.

As you were a partner of Sanrio, for a time there was a Limited Edition [Name] plushie, clad in pink with a cute, ruffle-lace bow to top it all off. Of course he bought one the moment it launched. Jake preferred his room to be completely dark and black, but he liked to keep that plushie on his bed, and although he’d never admit it, he hugged it when he slept if you weren’t with him.

Would it be wrong of him to tease you back? After all, Jake still had to film the brand deal for his new video.

Would it hurt to position the plushie just enough so that it was in frame?

So that maybe someone would see it.

Vidcon came crashing on you and Jake like a meteor, and before the two of you knew it, you were in the venue, wringing your fingers as the event commenced.

Sometimes, it was difficult for you to comprehend the level of your popularity. Sure, the numbers that Youtube loved to display for you told you that you had millions watching you, but mere numerical figures were simply not enough for you to wrap your mind around.

Your schedule that day was simple: you were going to have a booth that you'd tend to for an hour or two, where your fans could take pictures with you and take a few freebies with them. Then, you'd go to your main event, which was in a smaller venue.

At your booth, where you sat currently, your personal table was set up in a very special way: your table was pink, and covered in a lacy, white tablecloth. Even the wall behind you was specifically painted pink and decorated with various Sanrio-esque decorations. You had stickers that you'd give out, as well as a Limited Edition Vidcon Sanrio plushie of you that people could buy. The pink polaroid decorated with Hello Kitty stickers hung around your neck with a pink lanyard. You genuinely looked like Sanrio and Hello Kitty vomited all over you, but you didn't mind. And plus, that didn't matter, because you were cute either way.

You were hit with pure surprise as multiple groups of fans came your way. The amount of people that came to you, rambling nervously about how much they loved you, how much they looked up to you, how much you inspired them and made their days better, made you feel light-headed. And very warm inside.

Jake was the one that did the talking for you (thank goodness!), but for some reason, you pushed through your usual shyness, instead wanting for people to come up to you and talk.

Your face lit up as one of your fans, a girl that looked around your age, maybe only a few years younger than you, approached you. You could tell by the Sanrio sticker of you on her phone case that she was most definitely here for you.

"Oh my gosh, hi [Name]!" She gazed at you with wide, glimmering eyes.

Your initial reaction was surprise, but then you broke out into a smile. You cocked your head, fingers gripping the hem of your dress, both nervous and excited. "Hi, there."

You fan took one look at your face, and squealed. The way that she giggled, bouncing on her feet as she fangirled over you made warmth spread across your cheeks, getting shy and looking down briefly.

"I'm sorry, [Name]!" Your fan couldn't stop giggling, which you thought was very cute. It was now that you noticed the camera in your hand. "I just really love your content, and I'm just so excited to meet you in real life!"

You blinked at her a few times, before you smile only widened.

"Don't worry about it!" you said, taking her free hand in yours. Your shyness melted away as your fan squealed again. "It really means a lot to me that you came out here to personally see me."

Your eyes flickered over to her camera, squeezing her hand and motioning to it with your other. "Can I...?"

She nodded enthusiastically, so you took her camera. Turn on the 'photo' setting, you posed for the camera, taking multiple pictures of yourself for her. You hoped that that would make up for your shyness. The two of you hugged, and you took many polaroids for her.

Almost immediately, after she left, you were tagged in a Twitter thread. It was that fan, reporting her experience with you.

"She was so much prettier in real life, I thought I was in heaven," her tweets detailed, "And [Name] was so sweet! It felt like I was meeting the real life Hello Kitty."

She posted the pictures you took on her camera, and then the videos. You couldn't help but grin like an idiot, especially at the comments (and the rapidly-accumulating likes and retweets).

"The way [Name] gets so shy is so cute!"

"I don't really watch beauty content but I love [Name] so much."

"She's like an actual Disney Princess."

You loved your fans, you really did. You were grateful for them, and you thought they were very cute.

You were excited to see how Vidcon would treat you.

Jake was fighting.

He was fighting demons, wars, the little voices in his head.

Did you have to look so pretty today?

Jake's own event was an entire venue away from yours. He had a few events, so after his first one, he took a small break, where he looked through his notifications.

Of course, the first thing he looked at was your texts. They were from a while ago, during his show when he didn't have his phone on him, so he responded to them now. He smiled at your cute texts, expressing how excited and happy you were. His heart jumped out of his chest when he saw the selfie you sent him: there you were, in all your cutesy Sanrio glory, smiling so prettily for him. Jake had to clasp his face to hide the stupid, love-struck grin that bled onto his face.

"Oi, what're you giggling about?" Jake was interrupted by Jay, another one of his fellow horror Youtubers.

Jake immediately wiped his expression clean. "Nothing."

When he glanced back at his phone, that dumb grin began to form again.

Jay groaned. "This is so weird. It's like watching Batman smile."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake scoffed.

"I'm sayin' that you're basically Youtube's Batman," Jay scrunched his nose, "And it's weird seein' you all... smiley and stuff."

"I literally smiled earlier!"

"Not in the way that you did just now. I have a bad feeling about it."

"Shut up!"

Jake really tried his best to swallow back his pure admiration for you as he opened his phone screen again, but he failed miserably.

He wished he could see you right now. He loved to see his fans, he loved to talk to them about their shared interest: all things horror and obscure.

But Jake missed you right now.

His heart plummeted to his stomach, however, when he logged onto Twitter, and saw the worst hashtag he could ever think of: #[Name]isSoCute.

He agreed with it. No, he embraced that sentiment with every molecule in his being.

Just... he wished that he could see you right now. When he checked the tag and saw all the cute pictures that people took of you and the sweet experiences they had with you, he frowned— That should be him!

However, Jake actually saw the worst thing to ever materialize when he saw the top video under the tag.

It was a shaky video, starting off with a teenage boy walking up to you. In the background, he could hear your pretty voice in the background, exchanging small greetings and words with the poster. Jake was almost lost in his sheer love for you when his eyes narrowed. The boy in the video let out a little chuckle, before dropping a cheesy pick-up line on you.

"[Name], if you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber." What made it worse was that you only giggled, leading the boy to drop a few other dumb pick-up lines. The camera panned up to you, showing you all smiley and bashful. Then, you and the boy hugged, before taking a few polaroids together.

Jake almost snapped his phone in half.

He understood better than anyone that you were a content creator just like him. It was part of the job to interact with fans, and given your character, of course you were sweet to them. He could tell that you were perfectly comfortable in the video, and that the kid probably was just joking around with his favorite Youtuber.

But did that stop Jake from mentally lambasting every single aspect of the video? Absolutely not.

Shaky camera, probably filmed on a phone, Jake's hands balled into fists, Fucked up aperture, exposure to low, bad mic.

Was he being a little immature? Yes, and Jake knew that.

Though, Jake would admit that he agreed with a lot of comments and retweets under that post, hearting many of them in agreement.

"[Name] is such a cutie!" one read.

Absolutely.

"I love her so much," another read.

Me too, Jake thought.

"I want her so bad."

Just as Jake's finger hovered over the 'heart' button, he let out a small hmph. Did it annoy him that other people wanted you? Yes. But did he disagree with the comment? Nope. He pressed the "like" button.

He wanted to see you so bad. As Jake was queued up on stage, ready for his second event, he hoped that he could see you soon.

And his wish came true a few hours later.

It was now past noon, and Vidcon was in its (unofficial) intermission period, where a lot of the creators were now taking breaks. As Jake traversed the convention, he texted you trying to find a spot where the two of you could meet.

He passed the many booths and venues of his fellow Youtubers. The layout was unique in the way that Youtubers of similar genres were placed in similar areas. So when he started seeing Youtubers with bright makeup and problematic pasts, Jake knew that he was near you.

And lo and behold, soon he found you. Under the fluorescent light, you still glowed. There was some kind of halo around you as you turned over your shoulder, your face instantly brightening up as you spotted your boyfriend. You had a few fans that you were talking to at the moment, so you tended to them first, while Jake made his way over to you.

You and Jake agreed that you wouldn't make your relationship too obvious at Vidcon, but all of that was left forgotten the moment that Jake saw you.

However, as you ran up to him, people couldn't help but stop and stare.

Why wouldn't they? You were the living embodiment of Sanrio, that one Hello Kitty girl, whereas Jake was that one guy that made scary content and was often shrouded in darkness, dubbed as Youtube's personal Batman. Absolutely no one would have expected to see the two of you interacting with one another, let alone be within the same vicinity.

"Hi, Jakey," you smiled up at him, and Jake thought that he could die right there. With the amount of people staring, Jake had to restrain himself from throwing his arms around you and hugging you.

"Hey, baby," he grinned.

Before either of you could do anything, you and Jake were interrupted by a shrill squeal. You whipped your heads around to see a young girl and her older brother, who still looked relatively young. They explained nervously that the girl liked your content, while the brother liked Jake's content. They were expecting to scour in order for each of them to meet either of you, but were surprised to see you and Jake in one place.

You and Jake took a few pictures with them, both individually. Though, the two of them requested a picture with both you and Jake in the same frame, which you happily did.

When they left, you and Jake shared a look, before going off together.

Vidcon Day 1: Over.

Jake returned to his hotel room, too tired to do anything other than wash up and order room service.

As Jake laid in his half-hard hotel mattress, he scrolled through his phone. He was tagged in a lot of pictures and tweets, and he found himself grinning at a lot of the sweet words his fans left. Although he was tired, he could definitely do this a few more times, feeling invigorated by his fans.

As he scrolled, the trending Twitter hashtag caught his eye.

#HelloKittyMeetsBatman.

Interesting name, he thought as he clicked on it.

Jake's heart skipped a beat as he saw what came up.

Apparently, people were extremely surprised to see you and Jake so close to each other.

There were so many pictures of you and him taken together from afar just from that one instance earlier, from multiple different angles and distances. Jake would admit, the way he was dressed in all black while you were dressed in cute pinks and whites was almost laughable.

What truly caught his attention were the captions of all these pictures.

"Craziest crossover of 2024."

"I'm crying they legitimately look like Hello Kitty and Batman."

"Jake Sim and [Name] interacting was not on my Vidcon 2024 bingo card."

"This is like seeing two worlds collide, absolutely wild but I'm pleasantly surprised."

For the most part, it seemed like everyone just thought that you and Jake were friends, but it was still a little funny how taken aback the entire internet was.

Then, he saw the picture of you, him, and those two kids together.

"They look like a family," was one of the most popular retweets under that post.

Family.

That word rang through Jake's head, before he buried his face in one of the pillows, giggling to himself. He felt a little ridiculous getting so excited over such a small comment, but he couldn't help it. He felt so giddy inside at the thought of having a family with you, and felt even giddier knowing that people could see it, too.

Suddenly, his phone rang. Jake wasn't going to answer it, too caught up in his flustered-ness, but when he realized that it was you, he quickly cleared his throat, instinctively straightening out his hair (because what if he accidentally turns on his camera?-- he needed to look good for you!).

"Baby," he greeted suavely, as if he wasn't just giggling like a schoolgirl seconds ago.

Maybe it was the fact that it was already getting late, or the fact that Jake barely saw you today, or the fact that you were just so goddamn perfect, but your voice sounded so attractive in that moment.

"Jakeyyy," you whined. "Come over."

His chest was already throbbing but Jake played it cool.

He chuckled. "What for?"

"I miss you," he could hear the pout in your voice. "And I want your attention."

It was rare for you to be so direct with him, and while Jake wanted to melt on the spot, he wanted to tease you a bit longer.

"What's wrong with just being on the phone with me?" Jake's lips pulled into a smirk. "You can just talk to me like this."

"Noooo," you said. "I want— I want you."

Jake tried his best to not crumble then and there, but it was too hard.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Okay then, baby. I'll come over right now."

He didn't miss the cute little "yay!" you let out before you hung up.

You were going to be the death of him.

"Eep! Jake, what are you doing here—?!”

You’re cut off when you realized that you were, in fact, backstage of one of your events. Today was the second day of Vidcon, and you had just finished up your first event. As you went backstage, carrying the little bags of gifts that your fans got you, you didn’t expect your own boyfriend to be waiting back there for you.

“Hey there, Princess,” he said cheekily, sprawled across the backstage couch. "Miss me?"

He opened his arms up, and you instinctively crawled into them, sitting on his lap and sliding your arms around his neck.

As you did, you eyed him up and down.

Clad in black as always, he wore a black button-up, paired with black slacks, a black belt, and a loose, black tie. That's right: today, Jake was going to have a panel with a whole bunch of other horror creators, ones that transcended the internet— authors, authors that Jake spent his whole life reading and looking up to, which explained why he was dressed significantly more proper today than yesterday.

The way his shirt fit his chest and hugged his shoulders made it hard for you to not stare, and the way that it wasn't buttoned at the top, revealing his honey-tan collarbones, mixed with the scent of his rich cologne, made you feel dizzy.

"Ay, are you checkin' me out?"

On any other day, you'd be embarrassed, maybe even pushing him away, but today, you only nodded your head, humming mindlessly in agreement.

Jake blinked at you, before he pulled you in by the waist so that you were flushed against his chest completely.

"Kiss me," you mumbled, pushing his dark bangs away from his face.

Jake chuckled, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles. "What's with you these days? Getting so bold."

You only leaned into his touch. Maybe it was sometime in the LA air, or maybe it was the vigor that your fans gave you earlier, but all you could do was look at your boyfriend with glossy, wide eyes innocently, watching the way that his resolve trembled.

"Shit," Jake cursed under his breath. "Hold on—"

He grabbed your hips, then tilted your chin so that he could have a better angle. Your lips crashed into one another. Not in the way that a meteor would crash into Earth's delicate atmosphere, but in the way that gentle sea waves crashed onto themselves, dark folds of blue creasing over each other, only to brush up against the foamy seashore, none the wiser.

Jake liked the taste of your lip gloss; it tasted sweet, but not nearly as sweet as you, hungrily squeezing your hips in his hands. He swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, earning a squeal from you, who tugged on his hair.

When you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, chests heaving not for air, but for each other. You stared at each other for a few moments, losing time in each other's eyes, when your eyes trailed down.

God, the button-up and tie were going to drive you crazy.

Without thought, your fingers twirled around his tie, slinking up his chest before you yanked him harshly, jerking Jake toward you abruptly.

In a moment of pure, unadulterated boldness, you attacked his neck, laying sticky kisses all across his skin. One hand laced itself in Jake's hair, keeping a firm hold of his tilted head, while your other hand crept around the buttons of his shirt.

Each soft sigh that Jake let out made you only press more kisses on him. When he let out one particularly loud whine, his arm jerking up to grab at the couch's armrest, you knew that you found the sensitive spot on his neck. You pressed another kiss on that spot, this time sinking your teeth into his skin. The hickey was dark and purple, and when you ran your tongue over it, Jake's hands shot to your hips again.

"Shit, [Name], wait a sec—"

Skillfully, your fingers began to slowly unbutton Jake's shirt, just enough that you could see more of his chest.

Your head was feeling fuzzy now, drunk off your desire for him. The way he threw his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp of air he took in, curses falling from his lips, sent electricity coursing through your body.

When you unbuttoned the last button, you noticed the way Jake's eyes were squeezed shut, his other arm resting over them, hands balled into fists as his desperation for you increased.

"Jakey," you said. Jake was going to go mad, the way your voice was so soft and innocent as it said his name, all the while you were kissing and touching him in ways that made him go light-headed. He squeezed his eyes shut, another whimper escaping his lips. If he looked you in the eye right now, he was sure that he'd burst. "I want you to look at me."

He couldn't refuse you. Immediately, he opened his eyes, the arm strewn over his face dropping back to its position on your hips.

If he didn't die by combustion, Jake was certain that he'd die now— Your pupils were blown out, eyes lidded and staring at him like he was your prey to be slaughtered. He'd seen you wrought with desire so many times before, but the way you gazed at him like he was a piece of meat, like you were going to absolutely ruin him, made him feel weak.

"Watch me, Jakey," your voice sounded so sweet, but your actions said otherwise. You abruptly got up from your seat on his lap, Jake frowning at the loss of your touch. You dug through your purse thrown across the room, returning with a tube of lipstick.

You plopped back onto Jake's lap, making sure that he was watching as you applied it to your pretty, swollen lips.

Then, you discarded it, throwing your lipstick to the side as you snatched his tie again. You brought the black fabric to your lips, staring your boyfriend down as you pressed kisses on his tie. You kissed it a few times, making sure that the color of your lipstick, as well as the shape of your lips, was well-imprinted on it.

Then, you yanked his shirt's collar toward you, pressing a harsh kiss on the fabric, making sure that the shape of your lips was once again imprinted on the fabric.

You looked back up at his face, unable to hide your smugness as his entire expression was painted with red.

"You're so hot—" Jake attempted to force out of his throat, but you only cut him off with a rough kiss to his lips. Without a word, you covered his face, from his forehead to his jaw, with kisses.

You pulled back to admire your work, before you pulled away from him.

"I have to be on stage in a few minutes," you said quietly, your back turned to him as you straightened out your skirt. Dumbfounded, Jake could only stare at you, but when you turned over your shoulder, flashing him a bright, but terribly cheeky, grin, Jake's heart fell out of chest. "I can't be late, right?"

With that, you left your boyfriend, all hot and bothered, on the couch, running off to prepare for your next event.

Almost immediately, Jake melted. He threw an arm over his eyes as he leaned back, letting out a groan.

Was this how you felt when he teased you?

Was he now sexually frustrated? Absolutely. But now he wanted you even more.

After mulling over it for a few minutes, Jake began to go back to his venue. But, as he passed the backstage vanity, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Some of it was obvious to him already: disheveled hair, messed up shirt. But what made Jake want to evaporate was the sight of his entire face and neck covered in lipstick marks. The corner of his lip had a big lipstick smudge, the hickey that you gave him earlier was so dark now, and he couldn't even dare to forget your lip imprints on his shirt and tie.

You little tease.

Jake's last straw was.... right now.

After the backstage fiasco, he didn't get to see you all day. That night, you had a PR event to attend with your fellow beauty creators, so he didn't get to see you at night either.

Which was why Jake was practically glowing with a dark and negative storm cloud as he pranced around the third day of Vidcon. It didn't help that he saw so many pictures of you and fans all across platforms. Poor guy almost lost it when one of your fans' vlogs blew up, the most replayed part being when you let out the most angelic and sweet laughs he'd ever heard in his life.

That should be him!

Meanwhile, Jake sat in the convention room at a panel. Lined up along the table were other horror creators, from authors to Youtubers to filmmakers, similar to yesterday. The way that this specific event operated was simple: fans got to ask anyone on the panel questions and they'd answer, which the entire room got to hear, and later there would be one-on-ones along the panel.

Jake was pulled out of his thoughts when one of the fans said that they had a question for him.

"Jake, your videos take a long time to make, how do you balance work and your personal life?"

Good question. He had a simple principle when it came to how to balance everything. Jake thought about it for a moment, before reaching for his microphone.

"I don't have any outright method," he began. Jake's mind flashed with your image: all the cute messages you'd send him throughout the day, all the times where after hours of rotting in front of his computer screen he could always count on your loving embrace to give him life, all times that he'd tune into your Spotify playlist so that he could be listening to what you were listening. It was easy to balance work and life, if it was you. "But I always put my life before the screen."

The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.

"To be clear, I understand the privilege of getting to work in a profession like mine," Jake continued. "I don't expect everyone to be able to follow my advice exactly, but the more I live, the more I realize that what happens before my very eyes will endlessly matter so much more than what happens in my own little Youtube bubble."

Jake's mouth jumped to you faster than his mind could stop him.

"My beautiful girlfriend is everything to me," he unconsciously began to grin stupidly to himself, "I'd put her above work any day if I had to."

The moment that those words left his lips, the room erupted with gasps and whispers.

"Wait, you have a girlfriend?!" one of Jake's Youtuber friends asked, leading the room to laugh.

Oh.

Shit.

Jake's eyes visibly widened. He clutched his microphone, bringing it up to his mouth, but no words came out.

There was no way in hell that he'd outright deny you, not even in a million years.

"I.... Well..." Jake stammered, trying his best to generate any words at all. He sucked in a sharp breath, a bashful expression making its way onto his face. "That's..."

The room filled with more laughter, alongside the teasing grins and pats on the back that Jake got from his colleagues.

"Oh, so that's what you were giggling about yesterday, lover boy..." Jay, also on the panel, quipped, his brows raised so high on his forehead that it could have touched his hairline.

"Sh-Shut up, Jay!"

Jake's chest felt fizzy. In a weird way.

A part of him felt on-edge. You and him always wanted to keep your relationship secret, for the sake of preserving it. He'd seen what the Internet did to relationships: it tore them apart. It wasn't like he name-dropped you, but he felt so... exposed, so vulnerable.

But at the same time, Jake felt his chest also swell with pride. That's right. He had a girlfriend (a hot girlfriend at that), a girlfriend that he was nefariously down bad for. He hoped everyone knew that, that he was taken and that if there was anyone that he'd spend the rest of his life with, it would be you.

Jake huffed. "Yeah, I have a girlfriend. What about it?"

No one questioned him further. Probably out of fear.

You were in the middle of trying your best to get through a conversation with some beauty guru that you knew one thing about: their personal makeup line launch failed horribly and they gave everyone hairy lipsticks. It was difficult, to say the least.

Exchanging your final regards, you quickly rushed back to your booth.

The first thing you saw when you checked your phone was a viral video, in which Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend. Your heart plummeted to your stomach when you initially read the caption, but when you watched the video, you had a difficult time processing your feelings.

Did you hate that Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend? … No, you didn’t. You didn’t at all. At a certain point, seeing the way that your boyfriend smiled so earnestly made your heart jump out of your chest. The way he was so giddy and smiley (of course, only you could tell that that was how he was feeling— to everyone else it probably looked like he was brooding) made your neck and cheeks warm up.

But, the way that the room erupted with voices and laughter, combined with the quirked brows of everyone on the panel, made you quiver.

You weren’t prepared for it, for how vulnerable you felt as a chorus of “ooh’s” filled the room.

Frankly, there were too many things that you had to focus on at the moment. You'd rather enjoy Vidcon now, and address it later, when things settle down.

Pushing it to the back of your mind, you tucked your phone away, greeting another wave of fans. Though, not without taking an extra second to "heart" the post, adding it to your favorites folder, and rewatching the video one more time, feeling warmth and giddiness filling your chest.

As the cool night air kissed your cheeks, you fought the shy smile that seeped onto your face. It was late now, late enough that you could see all the city lights gleaming, lighting up the dark sky with blotches of all different colors.

There was a Vidcon party for creators, to celebrate the end of the event. Everyone was going. Although it was meant for any creator, there was a very exclusive VIP section; only those of high prestige could get in. Both you and Jake were invited, but upon realizing that nearly the entire hotel complex would be empty due to the popularity of the party, the two of you ditched it.

You'd been wanting to go to the rooftop hottub for a while now, but you never went because you wanted to go with Jake, and it was always too crowded for the two of you to go there comfortably. But now that everyone was gone, it was the perfect time.

Your boyfriend was already waiting for you up there, towel thrown over his shoulder with a shirt and swim trunks. His face lit up the moment he saw yours emerging from the elevator doors, rushing over to you to take your hands.

He paused for a moment. His dark eyes peered at yours, licking his lips before sucking in a sharp breath. Jake gave your forehead a peck, before saying a small "C'mon" and pulling you over to the hottub.

Jake took your towel for you, folding it next to his and perching it on a sunchair.

"They're gonna get off fireworks soon— Oh, damn," he cut himself off as you pulled your shirt over your head, revealing a bikini top. Your face scrunched up, squirming under his gaze. It's not like Jake has never seen you like this (in fact, he'd seen you in much more compromising positions), and it wasn't like he never complimented you, but as the hottub bubbled, the rosy scent of the water filling the air, you felt shy.

Jake slinked toward you, taking his own shirt off.

"Hey there, Gorgeous," he said, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts that had yet to be taken off. Your heart pounded in your chest, fighting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and groan in embarrassment. You kept your eyes glued to the ground. Jake chuckled softly, before clutching your chin gently, making you look up at him.

"Don't get shy on me now, babe," Jake grinned when your lips pressed into an unconscious pout. He squished your cheek, relishing in the look of confusion painted across your face. Then, his hands fell to your hips, pulling them toward his. "You look so beautiful."

Jake's fingers hooked onto the hem of your shorts, meeting your eyes for permission before pulling them down himself, revealing your bikini bottoms.

Jake's eyes glazed over your figure, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Jaaakee," you whined, squeezing his hands.

"Sorry," Jake's eyes flickered up to your face. "I can't help it. You're just so hot, baby."

You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub.

The two of you got into the tub, sinking into the warm water, you felt your limbs relax.

Vidcon was very fun, some of the most fun you've had in a while. But, it was very tiring, having to be around so many people at a time. And plus, it was hard not seeing your boyfriend whenever you wanted.

You pulled your knees to your chest. You could hear the loud techno music a few blocks away, probably coming from the club nearby. The bright night lights of LA was something that you could only imagine sleeping under.

Other than the sound of the city bustles, the hot tub’s jet system, and the occasional ripple of water, the night was silent.

“How was your day?” Jake broke the calm silence. The way the blueish water reflected off his skin made you dizzy.

“Good,” You cursed your voice for being so small. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous. It was your boyfriend, for goodness’s sake!

Jake loved it when you were shy, but sometimes he was genuinely worried about you. Part of why he loved you was the game that was trying to figure out what was going on in that pretty head of yours.

He reached out for you, clutching your knee. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Your stomach churned. For a second, you thought about that video of him admitting that he had a girlfriend. It made your skin crawl, but when your boyfriend squeezed your knee, it all stopped.

"Nothing," you said simply.

There's a few pulses of silence, before Jake clicked his tongue.

"H-Hey—!"

Jake got up from the water, wrapping his hands around your waist, and hoisted you up so that your legs were thrown on either side of the body, before sitting back down so that you were perched right on top of his lap.

Your chest, nearly bare, pressed against his own bare chest in a way that made your heart race. The warmth of his skin as it contacted yours was an addicting feeling, enhanced only by the warm water surrounding you. Either it was the steam from the tub, or the heat collecting between the two of your bodies, that rose to your cheeks.

You rested your hands on his chest, your fingertips barely reaching his broad shoulders, while Jake’s hands stayed in their spot around your waist.

"C'mon," you could feel Jake's warm, strong chest rumble beneath you. "Tell me what's wrong."

Under the sky, his eyes gleamed, like two gems. For the flirt that he was, Jake was too genuine and pure of a person. The sincere worry in his eyes made you feel warm, even warmer than you felt right now. And sometimes that was enough for you.

You leaned into him, your hands coming up to cup his face. You rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks, to which he let his eyelids fall shut, relishing in the comfort that was your presence. Every time your thumb pressed against his lips, he kissed them, unable to hide the smile growing on his lips when you giggled softly.

At the corner of your eye, you spotted the purple hickey you left on him the other day. That combined with his wet hair, the water droplets temptingly running down his chest, and the fact that you were right on top of him made you feel light-headed.

Your hands left his face, and Jake opened his mouth to whine about it, but was shut up when your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss.

It was a soft, innocent kiss, the type you gave when you just wanted to be close to him. Jake hummed against your lips, squeezing your thighs. You pulled away first, but Jake gently guided the back of your head back to his, pecking your lips.

"I just missed you," you said. You kissed his cheek. "I really missed you."

"It's only been a day," Jake teased you, but he knew better than anyone that he had absolutely no right to say that to you: he was practically dying each moment he couldn't see you.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. You held onto his strong shoulders, eyes glued to his lips. You were feeling needy, needy in the way that you simply wanted to be close to Jake. You were already close to him, but you wanted to be even closer. Your heart thirsted for it.

Then, you heard a rustle, whipping your head around toward the sound.

"Nuh-uh," Jake whispered in your ear, gently holding your face and guiding it to look at him. "I want you to look at me."

It wasn't until a few seconds later that you understood why Jake's tone sounded so teasing: he was referencing you and him the other day backstage.

"Stoppp," you whined, pushing your face into his neck. "You're so annoying."

Jake laughed, his chest rumbling. He stopped to admire the way you were all pressed up against him. He could feel every curve of your body, and he could feel the way your cheeks puffed with air, your lips forming a pout. He poked your cheek.

"You're so cute, baby."

"I know."

"What's with you getting so bold?"

"You're annoying me."

"Awww, you love me so—"

Fireworks fired off in the distance, painting the gray-blue sky with bright colors.

You stayed in your position, only your eyes moving upward to admire the show. However, Jake stayed staring straight at you, practically ignoring the fiery flowers forming in the sky. He gazed into your eyes, watching the reflection in them.

"It's so pretty," you murmur.

"Yeah," Jake felt like he was falling into your eyes, "So pretty."

Just as another round of fireworks shot up into the sky, Jake grabbed your face, crashing his lips onto yours. Your lips fit into each other well, like puzzle pieces, in a way that was so satisfying, almost like you were made for kissing Jake. But for all of the desire and roughness that the kiss was filled with, it was a soft one.

Jake swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, making you squeal and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His hands kneaded your body, roaming all over you with no intention of leaving a single part of your skin untouched. Likewise, you gripped his biceps, digging your nails into his skin to keep yourself grounded.

"Fuck—" Jake mumbled against your lips, only to get cut off by your lips attacking his— "Wait—"

Jake tasted sweet, like candy. He tasted like home, like love, like everything was going to be okay no matter what. How could you pull away now?

"B-Baby, wait—"

"Stop talking, Jakey," you pulled away briefly, only to bite his lip, pulling on the pink flesh with your teeth. You let your tongue roam his mouth, feeling the warmth as your own hands began to wander his toned chest.

"Just kiss me," you breathed.

You kept Jake like this for a few more minutes, trapping him in the heaven that was your lips. But when your bikini top began to untie at the back, something that Jake noticed immediately, he ripped away from you.

Something in his eyes had changed.

Quietly, he tied your bikini top back for you, ignoring your confused (and very breathless) gaze.

"If you keep doing what you do to me," he began into your ear, "I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."

With that, Jake threw you over his shoulder as he hoisted himself up to his feet. He grabbed everything that you brought to the rooftop, throwing your towel over you and ignoring you fussing.

"W-Where are we goin—?!"

"Back to my room."

You were in for a night.

You and Jake were going to stay in LA for a little while longer after Vidcon, so you extended your stay in the same hotel rooms.

After last night, Jake and you fell asleep in his bed.

It was going to be the best, Jake thought. Neither of you had anywhere to be, anyone to put on a show for. The two of you could sleep in for as long as you'd like. It didn't really matter to him, as long as he could wake up with you in his arms, he'd be all right.

Which is why Jake's heart dropped to his stomach when he woke up to you already dressed, pacing around the room nervously.

"Baby?" Jake was alarmed, even as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. "Baby, what happened?"

You whipped your head over to him, your expression pinch and painted with anxiety.

"Check your phone," you muttered as you chewed your lip.

Jake did as you said. The moment he opened up his phone, his screen was filled with text messages from everyone: his colleagues, his friends, heck even his own mother. He was tagged in about a thousand posts all across his social media accounts, and his Youtube home page was plastered with his face. But not only his face. Your face too.

What caught his eye was an article from a major Internet news source that made its round across every platform.

Its headline?

Jake Sim and [Name] [Last Name] are reported to be dating.

The worst part was the cover page.

It was a photo of you and Jake, together in the hottub last night, with your arms thrown around his neck with your lips connected. When he read more into it, the photo evidence got more and more specific. Close-up pictures of Jake's neck to reveal a hickey and lipstick mark on his shirt, your smudged lipstick, a screenshot of the Sanrio plush in one of his videos, even that clip of his laugh in the background of one of your videos. Of course, the most crucial one was that clip of Jake admitting that he had a girlfriend.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it? For everyone to know about you, to be able to show you off.

Objectively, this was bound to happen.

But as Jake watched you pace around, your hands shaking as you looked like you were about to cry, he didn't feel the pride that he thought he would feel if everyone knew. He didn't feel happy, he didn't feel excited that he got to show you off. All he felt was a mix of guilt and anger.

And before he could reach out to hold your hand and pull you close, you quietly said that you were going to go on a walk, and left the hotel room.

The quiet that filled the hotel room was piercing. Jake stilled in his spot, still groggy and disheveled.

Had he always been like this?

He swore that at the beginning of your relationship, he took every measure to keep it private. Because you asked him to. Because he respected you.

Why did he throw it all away?

He agreed to keep things private.

But now he put you in an uncomfortable position and an even more vulnerable position than you'd ever been in before.

Was he a bad boyfriend? Were you going to break up with him? Would your relationship with him ever be the same? That made Jake's heart palpitate. He couldn't lose you. No, he'd die. But then again, he fucked up, he knew that.

Jake ran a hand through his hair. This was an asshole move.

But he couldn't help feeling his fingers twitch for his phone when it ding'd.

The first thing he saw when he opened up Twitter were tweets at him.

And they were surprisingly... supportive?

"Emo boyfriend, cute girlfriend, the best combo!"

"Sending love to both of you. Hope you're doing well. We support you."

"I'm very pleasantly surprised."

"This is literally like Hello Kitty and Batman meeting this is crazy"

But as he scrolled deeper, he found more obscure comments.

"Feel so bad for [Name]. Her boyfriend is a freak."

"He doesn't deserve her."

And the nail in the coffin:

"No wonder they kept it a secret. I'd hide it too if someone like that was my boyfriend."

Why did you keep your relationship with him secret? Jake knew the answer to that: you just wanted to keep your personal life private.

But as Jake plunged himself deeper and deeper into the hole that was the media, he could only imagine alternative answers, and one stuck out.

Were you ashamed of him?

Of course you would be.

You were beautiful in every capacity and just the most perfect person in the world. And Jake was just himself. You were always cute, and sometimes, Jake felt like he couldn't keep up with you. You were far out of his league. His content was considered "niche" and "obscure," of course people, maybe even you, considered him a freak.

He was a bastard, and you were a princess. He didn't blame you for being embarrassed about him.

That's why you were so anxious and against your relationship being exposed, right?

No, no, no!

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Jake thought, his hands balling into fists. You wouldn't. He knew you better than anyone, and he knew that you would never be embarrassed about him. You weren't like that, and he was a fool for even thinking of you in that way. He was being insecure and stupid.

But even so, as Jake let all the guilt, shame, anger, and anxiety settle in while he thought of an apology to you, he couldn't help but feel his insecurity seeping in.

You knew that you were overreacting. You shouldn't have left Jake in there all alone, you should have sat down and talked to him about it.

But there was something scary about having everybody's eyes on you at once, scorning you. You were a Youtuber, of course you knew what it felt like to be watched, but to have the entire internet so hellbent about your personal life made you jump into your own skin.

You just took a walk along the early city streets, you reflected upon yourself.

Why did you keep your relationship with Jake secret?

Part of it was privacy. You didn't want the internet to interfere with your personal life, of course.

But it wasn't like you wanted to hide your love for your boyfriend forever. It wasn't like you wanted to stow him away somewhere no one could find him. You were both adults, and you had to start living at some point.

You'd be lying if you said that you never thought about making a cute video with him, if you said you never wanted to post a cheesy anniversary picture on Instagram with a long caption just for him, if you said you never wanted the world to know that Jake Sim was yours.

You remembered the first time you and Jake talked about keeping it private. He was unsure, but because he cared so much about you, he agreed. Had you ever stopped to think about how he felt? You may have wanted to keep your relationship quiet, but did he? To a degree, there was something selfish about you, both now and in the past. You wanted to preserve yourself and your feelings, but you never even considered how Jake felt.

You were afraid, you felt vulnerable and too exposed to the world. But you cared far more about Jake than those fleeting emotions. Desire outweighed fear, you had to see him now.

But as you marched back to your hotel, your mind racing as you came up with paragraphs of words that you'd spill to Jake, you began to notice your worst nightmare.

A group of men, each with massive cameras that had even bigger microphones.

They called themselves the paparazzi, but they were really only middle-aged men that made money off of being invasive towards people half their age.

Maybe you should have worn a hat, or something, as you were in a camera-infested area that was even more infested with celebrities and influencers. As they approached you, you quickened your steps, trying to get as far as you could from them. You tried your best not to make eye-contact, but alas, they got to you before you could escape.

"[Name]?" one of them called out your name, practically running to you.

Oh my god, you thought, ignoring them as you sped up. Please not right now.

"[Name], are you dating Jake Sim?" The sound of your boyfriend's name out of their mouths made your stomach churn. You kept walking, but you could feel them pointing their massive cameras at you, taking any measure to make a buck off of you.

You had a few choices.

You could make a run for it. Though, you had about six men double your age who would probably chase you down.

You could also give in to them, and give very vague answers. That would require a lot of patience, and simply, you wanted to go kiss your boyfriend, not talk to these so-called paparazzis.

Your last option was the one that seemed the most appealing, but could stir the pot of the media even more and it would give the tabloids what they wanted: you could tell them off and shut them down completely. The only issue was that you were the cutesy, sweet, Sanrio Hello Kitty girl. You've talked about adult topics before, but for you to be hostile and mean to another person? That was completely unheard of to anyone on the Internet. It would also be very reactive, and the media could twist that into something more.

But you wanted to get out of there.

You wanted to go see Jake. If you had to throw a few curse words at people if it meant that you could go home to Jake, then you'd use every curse under the sun.

"[Name], everyone is saying that your relationship with Jake Sim is real and not a publicity stunt. Any comment on that-?"

You were getting irritated.

You stopped in your tracks, turning over your shoulder.

"Will you fuck off?" Your gaze hardened on the group of men shoving cameras in your faces. You didn't even bother looking into the lens. "It's 10 in the morning, I don't have time for this."

"We didn't mean to offend you, [Name], we just wanted to know your relationship with Jake Si—"

You huffed to yourself, rolling your eyes. They loved acting polite only to violate your privacy.

"Cut the bullshit, okay?" you narrowed your eyes. You were only a few meters from the hotel entrance, and they were still stalking you with their massive cameras. How shameless.

Your anger was bubbling up inside you. It was rising, rising so much that you could feel it attempting to spill out of your mouth.

"You want to make a quick buck off of me so bad?" You stepped through the hotel doorway.

If the media was so curious about your life, and if they wanted to go so far as to try to disrupt your relationship, you wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

Everyone loved seeing what you were doing, everyone loved to watch you. It was your job to put on a show, to give people what they wanted. If you wanted to live, then you'd have to accept that.

You were an influencer, a micro-celebrity. You could make tides move if you wanted to. Why be so fearful of the eyes of so many?

But more than anything, you were a performer. And if that's what they wanted from you, that's what they'll get.

"Fine," you huffed. "I'll give you a story: me and Jake have been together for six years. In fact, we met each other in high school when he was my Physics lab partner. Go investigate that, won't you?"

With that, you slammed the hotel entrance door in their faces.

Jake swore he heard the trumpets of heaven when the hotel room door cracked open, revealing you.

He'd been waiting in front of it for a while now, and he jerked up immediately as he saw your face. He jumped right to his feet, ready to spill every word he thought of on you. You deserved an explanation.

But all you did was raise your hand, silencing him instantly. Instead, you took off your shoes, took his arm, and pulled him with you to the bed. You motioned for him to lay down, and did so yourself.

Jake stared at you like you were insane. Were you not going to yell at him? Why weren't you hitting him or telling him that you wanted to break up with him? Should he be on his knees begging you to stay at this point? But he complied (because of course he did, it was you).

You laid on his chest in silence, pressing your cheek up against him.

That made his mind wander.

Maybe you were trying to ease him into a hard conversation. Maybe you were going to forget this until later.

He didn't want that. No, you deserved to hear what he had to say. If you were going to leave him, Jake wanted to say everything that he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Jake blurted. The silence was deafening, before you took a deep breath, turning over onto your stomach so that your chin laid on his chest.

"What for?"

The gentle look in your eye as you looked at him made Jake choke up himself. He had to hold back or he'd start sobbing.

"For going against your wishes a-and..." Jake searched through his mind for all the words he practiced, but nothing came to mind. Not with you looking at him like you still loved him. "And for telling people about our relationship. I—I shouldn't have done that and I'm sorry for disrespecting the promise w-we made.... And... And—"

Jake sucked in a loud, sharp breath. His eyes were getting watery. He took your hands in his, squeezing them.

"And I know that you're ash—ashamed of me, and I know that y-you won't— you won't want to be with me anymore, but—"

"Wait what?" you interrupted him, squeezing hands back. "I'm not ashamed of you, Jakey."

Jake stared at you.

Jakey.

"I'm not breaking up with you either. What makes you think that?"

The gate that was holding back Jake's emotions broke.

Jake let the tears that he tried so hard to hold back roll down his face. He let out a sob before he clamped a hand over his mouth.

You didn't hate him? You still wanted to be with him?

You instantly threw your leg over his hips, straddling him as you pulled his head to your chest. He melted into your touch, his wet face hiding in the crook of your neck. You pet his hair, pressing kisses to the crown of his head.

"Baby," you whispered into his ear gently. "Why are you crying?"

Jake's crying only got louder, and you couldn't help but giggle. He was a total softie. The way his hold around you tightened told you enough.

Jake sniffled through his words, cutting himself off every now and then with a hiccup and more sobs. "Th-Thought you were gonna l-leave me."

Your fingers stopped in his hair. "Leave you? Why would I?"

Jake pushed his face back into your shoulder, shaking his head.

You let him cry like that for a little while longer, whispering sweet reassurances in his ear as you patted his back.

And when he was ready, the two of you talked it out, because that's what people did when they loved each other. You exchanged apologies, explained to each other your thought processes, and created an agreement: start anew, and you both didn’t mind that your relationship was now public, and if either of you disagreed, you had to voice it immediately. You ended it with a kiss.

You clicked the camera on, checking in the viewfinder that you were in-frame. You were back at home, the pink Hello Kitty decorations in your room, as well as the scent of strawberries, surrounding you.

“Hi, everyone!” you smiled brightly, clasping your hands together. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you all. How are you?”

You chatted about a few updates since Vidcon, telling about your wonderful experience there and how you were so happy to meet all your fans.

“Now, onto the video!”

You peered to the side, where you spotted Jake sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting intently for your cue.

“Oh, Jakey!” you said in a sing-songy voice. “Come out now!”

With that, Jake popped into frame, dorkily saying a quick hi before plopping down onto the chair beside you.

“Today, I will be doing my boyfriend’s makeup!” you chirped happily. “Are you ready, boyfriend?”

The two of you shared a grin.

“Of course, girlfriend.”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #jake sim fluff #jake sim x reader #jake sim imagine #jake enhypen #jake sim #jake fluff #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jaeyun x rader #star-sim #vanya-writes

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vincentvalenfine · 5 months ago

Text

bite of the beast

vincent valentine/afab!reader nsfw, 18+ word count: 9400 warnings: canon-typical violence fighting monsters, partial galian beast transformation, explicit piv intercourse, knotting, blindfolded because vincent is a goddamn mess, mostly clothed sex, don't focus too hard on the where and when of setting honestly read also on ao3!

Not every transformation goes as smoothly as Vincent would like it to. That you're there when it goes sideways becomes a prime opportunity to get very close, very quickly.

It was getting to be routine, staying behind with the busted up Bronco while most of the others went off to take care of the important business of trying to save the world, one stop at a time. If anything you were glad for the chances to get some peace and quiet considering how much chatter could go on while on the move. At times like this it was just you keeping watch, Cid doing what he could for his poor airship, and the mysterious Vincent, keeping to himself but never straying too far away.

Ah, Vincent Valentine. He was fascinating to watch, you couldn’t help it. The aloof demeanor had mostly held up during his time with the group, but nonetheless you’d spotted the cracks and what hid underneath, which turned out to be a much kinder, softer man than his first meeting would’ve led anyone to believe. He had a protective streak, a subtle sweetness when he hid his smiles behind the high collar of his cloak, and… well, you hoped he was glancing at you with some measure of interest every now and then.

Finding reasons to get him talking wasn’t easy, but you had managed to garner a few conversations from him, and he always seemed surprised that someone wanted more than a few brief observations from him. But he at least appeared to be warming up, if slowly. Hopefully he wasn’t just trying to avoid any social friction. He was also a hard man to read…

Today’s scenic view was the humid, tangled jungles of Gongaga. The others had gone off down the lone dirt path that led away towards the village, while you had settled yourself in to get some reading done, Cid had gotten back to work on the Bronco, and Vincent… well, he was around here somewhere. Probably hiding in the shade to avoid the worst of the heat.

“Hey, I'm gonna catch a bit of shuteye real quick! You mind keepin’ watch?”

Looking up from your book, you gave a nod and a thumbs up to Cid, who grinned and returned the gesture before retreating to the Bronco’s interior. Well, that left you to be on the lookout for any monsters that might show up - in a remote place like this, the possibility was unfortunately high. Better to put the book away and get some little lookouts summoned up, then.

Picking up the length of rope coiled by your side, you gave the spiked metal hammer head attached to the end a few twirls around before deftly striking a few spots on the ground before you. Each little crater you made sprouted forth a miniature drake in dusty yellow, shaking dirt off their hides before flapping their wings and beginning to circle the Bronco in a broad radius. They didn't need to be strong, just alert in case of monsters, or unexpected visitors.

One of them squeaked out a noise you'd learned to associate with Vincent, somewhere on the other side of the Bronco. The indistinct, velvet murmur of his voice barely reached your ears, but you knew he was distracting one of your sentries from their job. It drew a little grin to your face.

He had shown a surprising fondness for the fiends you could summon to fight on your behalf, and it made you smile every time you caught him interacting with them.

One of the drakes let out a curious trill and your gaze shifted in that direction. The little beast was beginning to make its way into the foliage of the jungle, drawing an annoyed grumble from you - that wasn’t in the instructions at all, but maybe it had found something useful? They did like the scent of mako. A quick glance at the Bronco (Vincent would keep an eye on it while you followed after for a bit, right?), and you coiled your meteor hammer around your arm before hustling after the vanishing drake.

Tangled was an understatement regarding the underbrush of the jungle. You quickly found yourself stumbling over roots, shoving past vines, and cursing the little sentry that had simply gone flitting through the branches ahead without a care in the world. You’d think it would have some willingness to wait for its summoner before flying off! A damn shame you didn’t have a blade to help with hacking your way through the foliage, but it was a bit late to turn back for one and you didn’t want to lose track of your summon anyway.

As you struggled through, a brief flicker of red caught your eye up above and ahead, so brief you weren’t even sure you had seen it. Maybe that was what had drawn your sentry away? With more cursing for each vine and branch that slowed you down, you did your best to catch up with it. At least it looked like there was a break in the jungle ahead…

Which, upon bursting out into that opening, you realized your abrupt entrance was a pretty terrible idea.

While across the clearing there was indeed a mako spring welling up out of the earth with a gentle burbling, between you and it was a trio of Gagighandi just beginning to lift their heads from sleeping. And they were huge too - one of them snapped its jaws at your summon as it darted by, catching the poor thing with only its tail and some of its wings sticking out from the fanged maw that closed with a crunch. You winced at the sight of its lifestream wisping away and began slowly backing up. Maybe if you just moved slowly enough…

Your heel snagged on a root and sent you sprawling onto your back with a whoosh of air from your lungs, followed by a bout of coughing as you struggled to catch your breath. By the time you got it back and scrambled onto your feet, all three of the beasts were staring, long tails swishing behind them.

“Uh - nice lizards…?”

A loud growl was the response you received. Well… shit.

Before you could get your meteor hammer twirling, a trio of shots rang out that forced the beasts to leap back from their resting places, dirt spraying from the impact of bullets. You glanced up with wide-eyed surprise as a familiar cloaked figure emerged from the canopy above you and twirled neatly midair before taking another series of shots to force the fiends further back. His landing was impeccable too, seeming to hover just a moment before his sabatons touched down in front of you, facing forward towards the threat. Vincent glanced over his shoulder to you and gave a slight nod.

“You shouldn’t be so careless about wandering off alone.”

You couldn’t help but huff as you readied your weapon, “It’s not my fault the little bugger decided to go exploring!” He didn’t respond aside from a slight hum, though you were certain you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes before he returned his gaze back to the Gagighandi that were now readying themselves to attack. Vincent had bought just enough time for you to prepare for a fight though as you stepped up beside him, and you began spinning the head of your hammer at the highest speed you could muster before slamming it to the ground.

Dirt exploded outwards, and with it the craggy, rocky shape of a golem hauled itself up out of the earth. You’d put more effort into the summon and this one was a good ten feet tall once it clambered to its feet, its ‘voice’ the scraping and gnashing of rocks as it lumbered towards its opponents. It would make a good shield to tank all the blows while you and Vincent took potshots from a safe distance.

At least, that had been the plan in your head until a fourth, even larger Gagighandi pushed through the trees, over the mako spring entirely with a single step. Oh, that just had to be mako mutated! Its gaze locked onto you as your body suddenly began to stiffen up - shit, Stone Stare was a bitch, and you knew you didn’t have a Soft or Remedy on you. Maybe it was time to try and book it before you both found yourselves petrified and eaten…

“Hm.”

Vincent’s voice drew your gaze, and you looked to find him withdrawing a golden Soft needle from a pocket with two gauntlet claw-tipped fingers. Without hesitating he flicked the item at you - it pierced your shoulder before you could think to reach for it, and you heaved a sigh of relief as the magic loosened up your tightened muscles. Okay, now was definitely the time to book it-

“Do not move.” His velvet voice was dark in warning, and you couldn’t help gaping as he stumbled forward suddenly. The beasts in front suddenly seemed uneasy at his approach, even more so as the sudden snapping of bones and popping of joints filled the clearing alongside Vincent’s voice choking out a scream. Oh, okay. Damn. It took an eternity and an instant before his form exploded outwards into the nightmarish beast you’d only seen once before, when Cloud and the others had beaten it down into submission with great difficulty. This was going to be intense…

The Galian Beast roared.

The Gagighandi recoiled briefly, before the largest one gave a shrieking hiss in response and lunged.

The battle was swift and terrible in its duration, and you were glued to the ground with fascination and a small measure of fright - how could something so massive move with such speed and agility? Your golem was giving its best to the smaller fiends, but its time was suddenly up as the Beast wrapped golden claws around it, lifted it high, and smashed it down upon the monster with more force than you could imagine. It stood no chance of surviving and crumbled away to dust afterward, while the great lizard stumbled back with a dazed look before screaming and lashing out with teeth and claws once more.

In less than a minute the smaller ones had succumbed to gaping wounds from the Beast’s claws and axe-tipped tail, and the larger one was well bloodied with a front leg dangling uselessly while it struggled to grapple with its foe.

You held your breath as the two strained against each other’s bulk… and then sighed in relief as the Gagighandi was wrenched from its feet and thrown down, the Beast descending upon it to tear it apart rather messily.

It was eating the fiend… well. It must’ve worked up an appetite during that fight.

You froze as it suddenly halted in its meal and lifted its head to look at you, bright eyes eerie even in the sunlight that filled the clearing. Your breath caught in your throat, gaze darting away to the ground to avoid staring. The last thing you wanted was for Vincent to feel threatened and turn his attention to chowing down on you instead. But aside from a low rumbling noise that seemed to roll through the air and your bones alike, the sounds of flesh being rent asunder and eaten resumed for another minute until silence fell over the clearing finally.

You were nervous about looking again, but you dared to anyway and found the Beast sat back on its haunches, licking the blood from its claws and face.

Those red eyes turned your way again, and you felt pinned by them. This time the Beast shook itself and dropped its head, another low rumble intermingled with a note of pain as its massive frame shuddered and began to shrink. Oh, thank goodness, he was changing back and you wouldn’t have to play hide and seek with the Beast.

You looked away again, out of courtesy this time, and waited again until the sound of footsteps told you Vincent was back to himself. Or at least that was what you assumed, but another surprise awaited when you looked.

“Vincent?”

Almost normal, but not - the Beast’s tall horns still curved up over the dark mess of hair, his eyes seemed fever bright with energy, and he carried himself several inches taller than usual on golden clawed feet like the Beast. More obvious still was the long tail that swayed behind him, bearing that golden axe like a macabre banner. With his face still speckled with blood, his expression was troubled, alarmed even. The claws that tipped his fingers seemed to be shaking as they rose to his face even at this distance, one that was being closed fast by his uneven steps.

“You need to leave,” he huffed out in a hoarse voice, the velvet traded for harsh gravel. He sounded frightened - you felt a bit frightened yourself at the unexpected change, but steeled yourself and shook your head after a moment.

“No, it’s alright. I want to help you, if I can.”

His expression twisted with fear - not for himself but for you, clearly. You mustered up your courage and took your own steps towards him, tilting your head slightly as he took a fretful step back in response. He really was scared of hurting others, of letting the Beast get the better of him… well, you needed to prove that fear wrong, then. It was only right to help him.

You kept your pace steady, tucking away your meteor hammer as you went, and offered him a smile when you grew close. While Vincent was already a relatively tall man, the additional height now made him tower over you the closer you got, though his hunched posture hid some of that height and made him appear like a distressed cat of sorts, especially with his tail swishing about erratically.

“You shouldn’t… I don’t want to-”

“You aren’t going to, don’t worry about it. Let me just take a look, okay?”

You were close enough to reach out and touch him, but he shied away from your hand with a sound caught somewhere between a whine and growl. Talk about stubborn; you heaved a sigh and stepped closer still, too close for him to lean away when you placed your hand on his arm. “See? I’m fine, you’re not hurting me. Let me help out.”

He let out a ragged breath, still looking fearful, but as you stood there and nothing happened he seemed to slowly relax. You smiled at him again to reassure him, letting your hand rub up and down lightly to prove that he wasn’t about to go attacking you just because of a touch. A low rumbling began to build in his chest, subtly different from the warning rumble the Beast had given you before… some kind of purr, in a way?

Vincent looked nervous still, and a touch confused by his own reaction, but he wasn’t pulling away. If anything, he seemed to be unconsciously leaning in now, dark hair spilling over his shoulders - the ends had taken on a deep red hue unlike usual, and you found yourself watching his face, realizing it matched the color of his right eye. The left eye was more vibrant than ever, and his gaze seemed to draw you in, the muddled swirl of emotions in his eyes beginning to settle down as he watched you in turn. The furrow in his brow slowly eased away, his expression softening as he halfway hid behind the collar of his cloak. Was he… starting to blush?

You couldn’t help reaching up with your other hand and touching his cheek to see, the warmth of his skin quickly intensifying under your fingertips as his eyes fluttered closed. The rumbling grew louder as well, and in a sudden movement his right arm slipped about your shoulders to drag you up against him, a squeak of surprise escaping you in the process.

“Vincent...?”

His eyes flicked open quickly, an intensity to their gaze different from the fear he’d held before, pupils dilated and a frenetic energy setting them aglow. It was your turn to feel a measure of confusion as he leaned down, his exhales ruffling your hair with a few deep breaths.

“I did not notice before,” he murmured as if to himself, low voice back to rich velvet. “Your scent… it is pleasant.”

And now it was also your turn to blush, words catching in your throat as you struggled to come up with a response to that. You came up empty-handed, even more so as his nose nuzzled down against the crown of your head. His rumbling was especially loud when you were pressed up against his chest like this, and the combination of sound and touch was flustering you almost unbearably. The feelings you had begun developing were now suddenly unfurling with a vibrant, giddy warmth in your chest, but with it came an unbearable twist of nerves. Was Vincent really comfortable with this, or was it the Beast affecting his behavior? Would he shy away as soon as he realized what he was doing?

“Vincent, I-!”

You didn’t get the chance to ask, as he brought his face down to yours and blocked any further words from escaping your lips with his own.

His movements were hungry, surprisingly bold from someone otherwise so reserved - you found yourself melting into the kiss in spite of your worries, stomach flipping about with giddiness and hands having no choice but to grab onto the front of his cloak to keep themselves in check. His own hands had no such concerns apparently, clawtips pricking through cloth as he drew them down your sides and settled on your hips with a light squeeze.

That rumbling of his still going strong, his height had him stooped over until his grasp started urging you down toward the ground. You couldn’t help but oblige, especially considering the strength in his grip that made it feel like he was doing pretty much all of the work to move you.

With your back quickly meeting the ground, you were properly pinned under him now. A gasp escaped you when one of his hands left its perch to slide up underneath your shirt, claws dragging delicately along your skin and drawing a shiver from you. The uncertainties you wanted to voice had nowhere to go, swallowed by his mouth needy against yours every time you tried to speak them.

One of his thighs slid itself between yours. The warm leather pressed up firmly to your crotch drew a surprised moan from you, another noise muffled by his lips still hungry for your own. The hand that had slid upward beneath your shirt this time drew downward, the same light scrape of clawtips provoking another shudder before they caught on the cloth further down.

Vincent’s lips paused just briefly as if he'd found something to hesitate over, but the moment was fleeting and he renewed his fervent kiss while his hand tugged insistently at the clothing in his way. You found yourself doing your best to oblige his efforts by lifting your hips up with a wiggle that helped send everything sliding until it met with the thigh still pressed up against you.

That drew a brief growl from him for having gotten in his own way. A quick lift of his leg moved it out of the path of your clothes on their journey downward before he settled it right back into place, this time rubbing up against bare skin. You couldn’t help moaning again, especially when the hand still holding onto your hip drew you up along the length of his thigh. Trailing slick as you went no doubt, the friction quickly set your guts ablaze with need and had you squirming in short order.

Your hands tugged sharply at his cloak in an attempt to draw him closer even though he was limited by his own height, having to curl his back to both kiss you and keep his leg well-positioned. Another low rumble built in his chest, and he finally freed your lips to instead latch onto your neck with both lips and the lightest press of fangs. That made you gasp and go still, pulse fluttering against the warmth of his lips and tongue that laved over your skin slowly. It wasn’t a threat - it was downright possessive, claiming you for his own. The thought of it made your legs weak, and it was a good thing you weren’t standing on them right now. Still…

“V-Vincent, is - are you…?”

He paused for longer this time, giving you a chance to catch your breath in spite of the thigh still held between yours and the tightly coiled desire in your gut begging for him to keep going. Finally, with a grunt that betrayed his internal struggle, he withdrew his mouth and took a deep, ragged breath. His head lifted just enough that you could meet his gaze again, still fever bright and burning with a mix of emotions. Desire, chiefly, but tempered with his growing uncertainty, and a touch of fear. That same fear as before - he didn’t want to hurt anyone, let alone you.

“Tell me to stop if…” he uttered hoarsely, the rest going unspoken. It would be too easy for you to do just that, to likely pretend this never happened if you were both so inclined… but he’d swiftly drawn out feelings that would have otherwise taken their time to grow, and possibly hastened feelings of his own as well. And you didn’t want to see what devastation looked like on his beautiful face.

Despite your nerves you raised a hand to touch his cheek once more, watching his eyes slide shut the same as before. This time you trailed your fingers down to his lips, brushing over them slowly and watching a shiver pass through him as he sighed. As they parted slightly for the motion of that sigh you gently slipped your thumb between them, watching his eyes flicker open with surprise and confusion - he clearly had no idea what you intended. He looked nervous as well, as if afraid he might suddenly bite down for no reason. You wanted to soothe that fear, running your thumb over the neat line of lower incisors to the much sharper canine that protruded upward and testing its sharpness with a light press. The action made him shudder, closing his lips around your thumb tentatively with the tiniest touch of his tongue tip to your skin. It was so comparatively shy when just moments ago he’d been licking your neck, you couldn’t help the amused smile that set his face flushing with embarrassment. He was so pale, it was impossible to miss it.

“I’m… more worried about you, okay? I’m good with this if you are.”

His eyes darted away, as if aware of how much they gave away about his feelings. Likely a whole flood of them about being afraid, of insecurities you weren’t privy to that would nonetheless give themselves away if he looked for too long… all of it at war with the Beast’s instincts that pushed him in more simple, primal directions. Even without making eye contact you could see his internal conflict.

You curled your fingers under his chin, using a gentle grip to draw his face close to yours again.

“I already liked you, Vincent. I don’t know if you felt that way too, but… if you don’t want anything that’s okay.” Heavy words to have to say in such an intimate position, but if it would make his choice easier then that was what you needed to say.

Another shudder ran through him, eyes closed to avoid looking at you for the moment before he seemed to summon his strength. His lips worked around your thumb with a brief sucking motion, tongue stroking gently over the tip before he tugged just a little to withdraw from your grip, licking his lips while he found his response.

“If you would accept a monster…”

You leaned in to kiss him, setting your own pace this time. He briefly stiffened with shock, then slowly began to relax down against you. This was less about urgent desire, more careful exploration as you gave him a proper feel for what you wanted him to have. His movements were cautious in return, but a soft rumble was beginning to build in his chest again as his gauntleted hand found its way up to your cheek and ghosted the sharp tips along, back over your scalp pleasantly.

A sigh escaping through your nose, you settled your hand on his shoulder to hold him closer, even still curled over you as he was. It wasn’t near the level of intensity which he’d brought to bear just earlier, but this kiss was pleasant in its own right, giving you the chance to grow confident with the new closeness… though it still didn’t prepare you for his thigh slowly shifting, as if testing whether he was still allowed to be so intimately pressed to you.

He needed the encouragement, so you gave him a soft little moan and parted your lips for him, the openness causing a brief hesitation before he accepted the invitation to send his tongue exploring. The hand on your hip flexed, digging clawtips in just for a moment before easing up and starting to draw them up along your side, giving you the freedom to move as you wanted to. You took the opportunity as it was given and began canting your hips into his thigh with another moan, this one muffled by his careful, methodical mapping of your mouth.

When he was in control he was so cautious, so nervous about making a wrong move that you were starting to miss the dominant eagerness of his bestial impulses, but figuring out how to get him to loosen up without scaring him… that was the challenge. And you wouldn’t be able to find out without a little experimentation.

You hadn't yet tried to touch any of his new ‘additions’, and decided it was time to give it a go; your free hand shifted upward, first to stroke at the messy black hair spilling over his shoulders. He hummed quietly, another deep rumble swelling from his chest, and that encouraged you to continue petting for another moment or so. Then you rose further, pausing at the base of one of his horns before touching the craggy, tough surface. Vincent’s rumbling stuttered for a moment, exposing his nerves once more.

You withdrew for a few seconds, just enough time to catch some deep breaths and whisper to him, “You're okay.”

He shivered, then gave the slightest nod and tilted his head towards your hand, the surprisingly broad girth of his horn pushing into your palm. It wasn’t wholly rough in texture, a few smooth areas found by your fingertips, and with a quick breath before leaning in to kiss him again, you gave it a tug to pull him closer. Vincent growled at that - another shift in demeanor, his teeth now latching onto your lower lip with a harsh nip. You gasped, another moan fluttering out, and tugged again to provoke him further. That seemed to bring him right back to his earlier mindset, and once again his movements grew hungry, taking the previously careful pace and ramping it up to a feverish rush.

Vincent’s mouth pulled away from yours and found its way to your neck again, and this time you felt no need to disrupt him, shuddering at the fangs dragging along thin skin like he wanted to make a meal of you. At this point you wanted him to do just that, consequences be damned - you’d look good with his bite marks all over you, no doubt.

“Vincent, please..!”

Another low growl escaped him, lips and tongue working their way downward to the join of neck and shoulder where muscle would make a nice, safe place to leave his mark. But he was holding back it felt like, the sharp points pressing down but not quite hard enough to break skin, and combined with the growing tension in your gut as you continued working yourself against his thigh the wait was almost unbearable. A whine slid from your lips - and he hummed in amusement, tongue glazing over the skin caught in his mouth almost lazily. Dammit, he was actually teasing you!

“Please,” you rasped, “I want it.”

He let go in order to speak, exposing damp skin to his exhaled breath and making you shiver. “You will have to be specific.”

Specific - fuck, that’s just embarrassing! You huffed indignantly, about to start pouting when his thigh began pulling away suddenly. On reflex you clamped down on it with your legs, giving him an almost offended look. That provoked a low huff that could’ve been a laugh, and he dipped his head back to the base of your neck, nuzzling with just his nose to take in your scent again.

There was a low thudding off to the side, and craning your neck over you caught a glimpse of that new tail of his, the gleaming axehead thumping against the dirt. Wagging his tail… dammit, that was so cute you could almost forgive him for being a tease right now.

You groaned a little and gathered your words. “Please, I… want you to bite me.”

Vincent hummed again, and then in one swift motion opened his mouth to bite down firmly, fangs sinking through skin with ease and causing a warm burst of pain. You couldn’t hold back a little cry, one that suddenly pitched upwards with surprise and pleasure as his hand found its way down and pressed the heel of his palm firmly against your clit. Those claws wouldn’t be a good time in such a delicate area, yet he’d found a good enough work-around to set you writhing even while he remained firmly latched on.

The heady mix of pain and pleasure made your last few ruts against his leg rushed and jerky before you hit a swift climax, gasping his name as you clung tightly to him and rode out the waves.

His hand remained in place until you were limp on the ground, though at some point during your orgasm he’d withdrawn his fangs from your skin and had settled into licking at the blood that streamed from the wound. The bite mark ached, throbbing in time with the receding pleasure in your core. Even then the only thing you regretted at the moment was not doing anything for him in return so far, and as you worked on catching your breath and wits both you gave his horn a light tug to try and bring him back up for another kiss. He resisted for a moment with a soft growl, closing his mouth over the mark he’d left for one more taste, then allowed you to redirect him.

There was something both wicked and irresistible about tasting your own blood on his lips, and even though you’d just come your guts were already growing tight with desire again, this time for more than the thigh he was slowly withdrawing from between your legs.

You kissed him needily and he pushed back in kind, the occasional lap of his tongue trying to catch what blood he was smearing across your lips. His fangs nipped in turn and had you whining petulantly, free hand seeking its way to one of his belts and giving it a tug. Vincent shuddered in response, hesitating for a moment as if arguing with the Beast’s instincts before giving in and arching his back up to let his hips more evenly drop down against yours. One of his hands found its way to your hip to bring you up against him as well, and the distinctive bulge trapped under tight, warm leather had you squirming with want, legs quick to hook around him and give you leverage to grind up against him.

This time he was the one to moan, a deliciously soft, wanting noise that sent your desire out of control, tugging again at his belt like it was a handle to steer him with. Dammit, if only there wasn't so much fucking leather in the way-

“Wait,” he whispered hoarsely against your lips, and you pulled back to give him the room he needed. He looked so conflicted again, even with pupils blown wide open and a thin strand of spit still trailing from his lips down to yours. As much as you wanted to drive the uncertainties from his mind and kiss him breathless, you didn't want to scare him away.

“Take your time, Vincent. I can wait.”

He took that time as offered, trying to slow his breathing down and closing his eyes for the time being. You dropped your hand from horn to hair and started petting gently - a soft rumbling rolled from his throat in response even as his cheeks grew pink from the affection. His hair, though messy, was still silky to the touch and honestly a pleasure to comb your fingers through.

Finally, he gave a shaky sigh and opened his eyes to look at you once more, still fraught with uncertainty but also holding a measure of desire… a touch of affection? You could hope that you weren’t mistaking lust for its less common counterpart. You'd gotten this far with him, though.

“I am… not sure this is right. I'm still - half a beast. You couldn’t…”

“Couldn’t what? Stop you? You're the one stopping yourself right now.” You gave your hips a brief grinding movement up against him and watched his lips part for an airy moan - so damn beautiful, both to look at and listen to. Again, he had to close his eyes, this time to escape your smug little smile. He was too easy to rile up behind all that aloof calmness.

“Or if you mean I couldn't possibly want this - I do. I want it a lot.” Surprisingly your voice didn't crack, even though you felt like it ought to from such a confession.

Vincent opened his eyes again, this time with a flustered confusion so clear in them you couldn’t resist leaning up to give him a kiss on the tip of his nose, making his eyes cross just briefly and prompting you to giggle. Further confused by that, he frowned - pouted really. “I don't understand… why you would accept such a thing.”

“Because you're still you. And… it's kind of hot? Not that - you're still handsome normally! Just-” And now you were the one blushing while his expression grew more confused, as if he couldn't even conceive of being called handsome, let alone hot. Your words died on your tongue with embarrassment, suddenly struggling to look at him directly and turning your head aside only to peer from the corner of your eye. He only seemed further mystified by your response, averting his gaze with a soft murmur, “If that is your opinion.”

Opinion? Oh, no, that wouldn't stand, you needed him to know it was a fact.

“I mean it, Vincent, you really are. If everyone didn't already have a million problems to deal with, they'd probably be staring at your pretty face a whole lot more.”

At those words he sunk behind the comfort of his cloak collar, not that it hid how red he was turning. You could face him again now that your focus was on getting him to understand how pretty he actually was, lifting up again to kiss his forehead this time. “And being a beast or a monster or whatever you feel like you are, that doesn't change what I think or feel about you… I'm not turning away.”

When you sank back down you found him looking almost distressed, as if he didn't know what to do with genuine affection. He dropped even further behind the collar like he could disappear if he tried hard enough. You snorted, hands finding their way to his cheeks to gently coax him out of hiding, slowly but surely until you could see his pouting lips. His face was still incredibly warm under your touch, only growing hotter when you drew him down into a kiss - gentle and affectionate this time to reassure him that you were being honest about everything.

Slowly he melted out of the confusion and embarrassment until he was pressed down against you once more, that rumble of his beginning to pick up when your thumbs stroked over his cheeks slowly. What a complicated mess of a man you’d picked out by accident… hard to say no to such a pretty face, though.

Confident he was getting back to the right mindset, you carefully moved your hips against him and found yourself rewarded with another moan of his, caught by your mouth so it vibrated against your lips. Keeping one hand cupping his cheek and caressing it with your thumb, your other hand made the journey back down and slid between your hips and his, paying no heed to the stickiness as you began looking for ways to get all the damn leather out of the way. One belt slowly unbuckled, a war of attrition against the pieces keeping his skin from touching yours began but paused when one of his hands snagged your wrist; you blinked your eyes open and caught him staring right at you, still so intense. This time he didn’t pull away though, and just gave one of his little hums before lightly nipping at your lips. You ended up squeaking, briefly forgetting your attempt at undressing him at least a little.

That gave him the chance to grasp your other wrist and bring them both up over your head - his long, elegant fingers even with claws now tipping them were perfect for catching both wrists in one hand and pinning them to the ground. Oh, no fair! Now you had no chance to get at him properly, and you made your displeasure known by squirming up against him with a muffled whine.

The friction made him groan, but what followed was an even more delightful sound: a low, rusty sort of chuckle escaped, like he hadn’t really laughed at anything in forever. But it made a pleased chill roll down your spine. He pulled back and you chased his lips as far as you could, prompting another soft little laugh from him that made your stomach flutter from how nice it sounded.

“Impatient, aren’t you.” Vincent said it as a statement instead of a question, and you decided (very maturely) to stick your tongue out at him.

He raised an eyebrow, snorted, and used his free hand to caress your cheek in a mirror to your own actions earlier. You couldn’t help leaning your head into his touch even with clawtips prickling against your skin as a reminder of his current form. It didn’t matter - at this point you trusted him not to hurt you (at least, not any further than you had already asked for).

“Close your eyes. Please.”

At his request you nodded, sliding them shut and relying now on your sense of touch to keep track of him. His hand trailed its way down onto your neck, to your chest and further down over your stomach. The light nature of his movements made your stomach suck in a bit with ticklishness, but thankfully he didn’t seem to think of pursuing such a reaction and kept moving downward. As his clawed fingertips hit the bare skin of your lower half and trailed over your mound you began shifting with poorly restrained desire, only to find yourself disappointed when he slid up along one of your thighs and carefully disengaged your legs from holding onto him.

“Vincent, please…”

“Be patient.”

That was a subtly commanding kind of tone, and not a request. You nodded again, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from opening your eyes when he hadn’t yet said you could. His hand left you and you had to start listening for what he seemed to be doing next - the subtle but distinct sound of a zipper struggling along its path, a sharp inhale from him, and the rustle of leather sliding against cloth.

So it was a surprise when the hot, sticky weight of his cock dropped down onto your mound. Your breath hitched as you tried your best to gauge girth and length from what you could feel… and it felt pretty damn big. It had to have hurt like hell, trapped under those tight leather pants. All sorts of thoughts flew through your mind, from how badly you already wanted him to bend you in half to whether it would even fit in your mouth if he let you try. You swallowed, trying to get them under control so you could say something.

“Can I touch you…?”

Vincent was quiet for a moment, then huffed as if faintly annoyed. Maybe he’d momentarily forgotten your eyes were closed. “You may.”

His grasp on your wrists eased up just enough to let one of your arms slip free, though he kept the other caged for the time being. One was all you needed really, bringing your hand down and carefully setting it down where you felt his cock atop you. As soon as you made contact a quick breath followed by a groan left him, the girth under your fingers twitching eagerly. Damn, he was pretty thick, though you mapped out a taper as you slid along its length to the tip. It reached a slender point rather than a human-like head… another Beast trait, it seemed. Sliding back the other way, the thickness of it became somewhat daunting the closer to his hips you got, especially considering how long it felt as well. The heat radiating from him was especially intense too, but the way he kept twitching and shifting under your hand was irresistible - you felt reasonably sure you could handle this, given some opportunity to adjust.

Before you could get too handsy you felt him grabbing your wrist and drawing your arm back up to be secured again, prompting a little whine from you that was followed by an amused huff from him. “I told you, be patient.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, hoping it made him smile. “Can I open my eyes at least?”

He paused for a longer moment than felt comfortable, and you were about to open your mouth to retract your statement when he finally murmured a response.

“I would… prefer you not to look. Please…”

You kept your mouth closed, thinking for just a second before nodding in agreement. He was always buried under those layers of his, it seemed likely that he had some sort of issue with his self-image that would no doubt be made worse by his partially transformed figure. It was probably miracle enough that he had exposed himself this much.

“Okay. Could you blindfold me then, maybe? So I won’t look by accident.”

Vincent gave a grunt of affirmation, and after a few moments passed a piece of cloth draped itself over your face, still warm with body heat - wait, was this his headband? It smelled like him, tickling your nose with how it draped over the tip, and cracking your eyes open just a touch confirmed your suspicion with the red fabric that blocked your view. You blew some air through your lips to push it up off your nose, giving him an awkward smile that rewarded you with a soft hum.

“Hold still,” he commanded in advance, then released his grip on your wrists so that he could deftly fold the cloth and tie it around your head. You considered being bratty for a moment, but that could chase him off, or delay what you wanted so badly… better to behave right now for your first time.

One hand shortly resumed its post keeping your hands up and out of his way, while the other slid back down your front, slipping past his cock and carefully sliding two fingers between your folds. Though you moaned, you held still to avoid any accidents with the claws that were so easily capable of causing a nasty scratch on such delicate skin. They only lingered for a few moments, and you realized he was catching some of your slick to lube himself up with, retreating without any harm done. From where he was touching you it was easy to feel him shudder; he didn’t seem all that eager to touch himself, but it was necessary considering he was still holding your hands hostage. His slick covered claws grazed over your stomach briefly and provoked a small shiver from you, and now you felt safe enough to squirm under him impatiently, hoping to at least distract him from his own body. You managed to win a small hum from him at least.

“Vincent, please, I need you.”

His lips pressed to yours for a brief kiss that you chased after again, a second hum of amusement leaving him. Though he gave another little shudder, you felt the slim tip of his cock press up against your folds and held your breath, hips tilting up slightly in an attempt to coax him into continuing.

“I do not… know if I will be able to stop myself,” he whispered by your ear, sounding almost guilty about the admission. “If you do not want this…”

“I want it. Every last inch,” you replied fervently, and swore that you could feel the blush burning on his face in response. You turned your head to kiss his cheek, then the corner of his lips. A low sigh escaped him, and he withdrew from kissing range in spite of your pout, though your expression shifted as his cock began to push inside. Already wet from your first orgasm, the light coating he’d given himself to start with made the initial entry easy enough. Halfway was where the stretch began, your pulse pounding in your throat and eyes fluttering behind the cloth covering them, a stuttered breath rattling out of you. Fuck. Maybe every last inch was a minor exaggeration.

Vincent was going slowly enough not to hurt you, but he also wasn’t stopping even as your walls flexed around him. His moan was tinged with a growl, his hand clasping your hip now, fingers still sticky with your juices.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, swearing you were almost at your limit when you finally felt his hips settle against yours. How he fit all the way you weren’t sure but the stretch of him, length and girth both was almost too much at once, legs shaking from from the overwhelming sensation tinged with just a little pain. For the moment it was good enough to take one shaky breath after the next, waiting for your body to adjust to his cock pushed so deep inside you.

Finally, you gave a small nod to him. “Slowly - please…”

“I will try,” he replied. He sounded just as breathless as you felt.

The intensity of it eased as he slowly withdrew, giving you the chance to catch a few deeper breaths, and the second slide in was just a little more bearable even when he pressed to the hilt again. Your legs were still trembling some, and you doubted they’d be of any use for the next few hours. He’d probably have to carry you out of here, and if he was still caught in this form then there’d be questions to answer and probably a lot of suspicion and fuck, you were letting him rail you right out in the middle of nowhere in the open-

Vincent kissed you again with renewed hunger, and his slow thrusts began to pick up speed in short order, chasing away the thoughts beginning to derail you with each burst of intense sensation every time he stretched you out. A series of soft cries and moans went straight into his mouth unheeded, fangs nipping before his tongue brushed your lips and coaxed your mouth open for him once more.

He was starting to rumble again, short intervals interrupted by his hips now slapping against you with increasing roughness. The hand on your hip kept you to his rhythm without fail, and as it tilted you up further for his convenience the changing angle helped his cock find just the right spot inside - your voice choked on how much pleasure came from the repeated presses along and against your g spot, overwhelmed once more and feeling another climax come crashing down through you.

But in spite of the shuddering and writhing beneath him, Vincent’s thrusts continued relentlessly right through your orgasm, snapping in and out with enough force to push your breaths from you. He definitely wasn’t about to stop, likely couldn’t stop even if he wanted to when the Beast’s instincts were probably driving him toward a very simple goal: mate.

His mouth remained ravenous pressed to yours, his grasp somehow still relatively gentle on your wrists despite his otherwise rough treatment - some part of him was at least doing its best not to hurt you, though the rest of him was making sure to fuck you as thoroughly as possible. Another orgasm built up quickly and rolled through your body, overstimulation already starting to take hold as he still kept up a brutal pace while your walls spasmed around him and you were starting to lose track of where your legs had gone off to in spite of being attached to you. He couldn’t keep this up for much longer, could he?

The already snappy rhythm grew even more frantic as if he’d heard your thoughts, and what had become a bearable stretch suddenly started to become more intense again - was he starting to swell up? Oh, fuck, did he have a knot? You couldn’t speak up with him still devouring your mouth greedily, and even if he wasn’t the intensity of his pace was leaving you mostly breathless anyway. It was all you could do to simply try to brace yourself as the last several thrusts first tested your body’s willingness to stretch just a little more, then sank to the hilt one last time with a slight pop that made your head almost jerk down against the ground and sent stars through your vision for a moment.

His knot continued to swell for a few more seconds to firmly lock him in place, and the deepest rumble you’d heard from him yet rose from deep in his chest, hips jerking forward against you while spurts of cum surged hot and deep inside.

Vincent finally released his grip on your wrists and withdrew his mouth, breathing hard and fast the same as you. With your mouth free you could gasp for air, shaking from the intensity of the stretch that you had no choice but to endure right now. Though your limbs felt like limp noodles, you blindly lifted one trembling arm up to try and touch him, though it seemed to take a longer moment than expected before his warm cheek settled against your palm. You quickly urged him close to you again, seeking any sort of diversion to help occupy your mind.

“Bite me again, please.”

Your voice was just as shaky as the rest of you, and the tone of it seemed to spur him into action quickly - he dropped his head down to the opposite side of where he’d bitten before and quickly sunk his fangs into your shoulder. The warm, sharp stab was a welcome distraction even as it made tears well up, and you made no effort to stop them from leaking down the sides of your face and soaking into the bandanna still keeping you blind. Your hand slipped around to the back of his head and tangled fingers in his hair to hold him there, a low whine in your throat as his tongue lapped up the blood spilling into his mouth.

It was only a few minutes, but it felt like forever before the stretching eased up. With a lewd, slick sound you felt his knot finally pop free along with a gush of fluids - you couldn’t stop the moan that slid from your lips, muscles fluttering weakly as he withdrew and gave them the freedom to relax. The empty feeling was both a relief and made you wish he would sink right back into you, but you knew that you probably couldn’t handle a second round after such a rough first time.

Vincent groaned quietly against your shoulder, teeth pulling free and tongue licking slowly at the puncture wounds he’d left behind. He was trembling a little himself now, and you wondered if it was from being just as overstimulated as you, or if his half-transformed state was taking a toll. Or maybe he was just coming back down from the Beast’s instincts and realizing what he’d done… you couldn’t find any words to try reassuring him with, but you could at least turn your head to kiss the messy dark hair draped between your lips and his forehead.

A thin sigh escaped him, and then a grunt of pain - you felt the claws on your hip beginning to shrink. The rest of his bestial traits were following suit no doubt, and you did your best to soothe him through it by petting the back of his head and nuzzling your face against him gently. What had to be his horns disappearing was giving off a grinding sound that made you wince in sympathy. That had to hurt.

“Vincent, are you okay…?”

You couldn’t bring your voice above a whisper even if you wanted to, but this close it wasn’t really necessary anyway. Another grunt, and he began to lift his head up away from you, seeming to pause for a moment before his hand left your hip and there was the soft rustling of cloth and leather, then a distinctive zipping before you felt him carefully pulling off the makeshift blindfold.

Compared to the warm darkness now everything was quite bright - you squeezed your eyes shut to adjust to the sudden light, slowly squinting them open to finally get a look at him again. The horns had vanished, and his eyes no longer glowed with energy aside from the usual yellow ring in his left eye. Instead they were dark with concern, fear, guilt, and his face was tucked down to hide behind his cloak collar as if he couldn’t quite handle being seen yet.

“I hurt you,” he mumbled.

“I asked you to,” you countered, watching surprise flicker across his expression. “And I enjoyed it. You don’t get to feel bad about something I enjoyed.”

He had the grace to blush about that, his gaze flicking further down your body briefly before a much more vivid red overtook his face. Oh, yeah, you had to be a total mess down below… with a soft sigh you pushed yourself up on shaky arms and watched him rear back nervously in response, eyes looking well away from you now.

“I’m gonna need some help, Vincent. I don’t think I can feel my legs right now.” You made the admission with a measure of ruefulness, and he gave a small cough as if he’d almost choked on his spit. “I-.... Very well then. I will… help you clean up.”

And with an abrupt swiftness you were suddenly up off the ground, aloft in his arms and clinging to the front of his cloak in surprise. You could still feel his cum oozing out of you, silently hoping you weren’t going to drip all over his nice leathers… but he didn’t seem to be thinking about it, merely securing the clothing dangling off your ankles as he set off. Hopefully to find some running water for you to wash up with, because you sure as hell didn’t want to put your clothes back on yet.

At least there wouldn’t have to be an explanation for why Vincent had half a transformation going on anymore. No, you’d just have to explain instead why you weren’t about to go walking around outside the ship for the next couple of hours. Boy was that going to be interesting.

(Worth it.)

#vincent valentine x reader #reader insert #chrys indulgences #finally remembered my writing tag #thats a lie i went back to an older fic lol

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spidergrysn · 8 months ago

Text

Spider!Mark origins: Mark Lee x Reader

cw: part one of many, spider! mark, kinda sorta in the mcu????!? just a bit, haechan and reader are siblings, slight violence, sloww burn, fluffy, silly banter, EVENTUAL SMUT (none in this chapter) dorky mark lee.

wc: 7.7k🕷️

ISSUE #1: MARK’s ORIGINS. 🕷️🕸️

ISSUE #2 : THE MAKING OF HERO 🕷️

Annoyed was an understatement.

All his life, Mark had been constantly on the move. It felt like he was never going to have the chance to settle down and be a semi-normal person. From living in Canada to South Korea and now to the US, it seemed like there was no point in getting attached to anyone or anything because, just like before, he was more than likely going to endure some type of change. Mark for one wasn’t unfamiliar with change.

His youth had been filled with broken promises, loneliness, and distractions. There were three things in this world that Mark Lee loved more than his aunt and uncle Park: quantum physics, engineering, and music.

Despite the constant upheaval in his life, these passions had remained constant, serving as his anchor in the storm of his ever so changing life. Whether he was studying the intricacies of the universe, tinkering with gadgets and gizmos, or losing himself in the melodies of his favorite r&b songs, Mark found solace in the world of science and creativity.

But even with adoration for his interests, Mark couldn't help but long for stability. He yearned for a place to call home, a community where he belonged, and people who understood him. Yet, each time he packed up his bags to go to yet another house in another city in another place he knew this was nothing more than a distant hope.

That being said, these passions were the only things that seemed to get Mark through the days. There was something about listening to R&B music and testing major theories of famous physicists in his ever-changing bedroom that kept him grounded. So that’s what he did. After moving to different cities in Canada, Korea, and finally the US, he decided to start uploading videos to the internet.

Now, he didn’t show his face, but his videos featured him making different technological devices while simultaneously playing old R&B music in the background. It was some weird niche thing that he adored. Sure, Mark had garnered 100 subscribers, and sure, some of them may have been weird YouTube bots. But when you thought about it, if you put that many people in one room, it would be a whole lot. Sure, his account didn’t get much attention, but the few comments he’d get on his videos made his day. It made him feel like he had “friends.

Recently, he had uploaded a video explaining his view of quantum theory while Aaliyah's smooth voice filled the background. After a couple of hours, he received a notification from a subscriber who usually commented a lot. They had chatted a few times in his YouTube comments, and Mark had learned that he was a physics professor at MidTown university a college in New York which just so happened to be not too far from where Mark was currently living.

Today’s comment was a bit different though as he reads it, Mark could feel his eyes widen, absorbing every word the professor had to say. He had told Mark that there was an upcoming science expo happening at the school. It was free for all and would be a good way to learn new things. Reading this excitedly Mark, he immediately liked the comment before going to his Safari to search the event, and sure enough, it was there: "30th Mid-Town Science Union Expo" on September 3rd. Finally, something Mark had to be excited for. For the next week, that’s all Mark could think of, and his mood had noticeably changed, prompting his auntie to take notice, thinking that Mark had finally made some friends or, dare she say it, a girlfriend, which Mark waved off, saying it was nothing.

As the days passed, Mark found himself eagerly counting down to the expo, his mind buzzing with anticipation. It felt like a rare opportunity to immerse himself in a world of science and innovation, surrounded by like-minded individuals who shared his exact same passion. And as he continued to upload videos to his channel, the thought of attending the expo filled him with a renewed sense of purpose and excitement.

Finally, the day had come. Mark wore a corny math t-shirt that said “find x,” some blue jeans, and his annoying circular prescription glasses that his auntie always nagged him about, making sure he was wearing them at all times or his vision would only get worse.

His body bounced with anticipation as, Mark exited their small house and strolled down the street, making his way to the train station. Ear to ear, he stood on the subway train like an absolute loser, feeling his heart beating against his chest as the train made its stop. He slipped through the other passengers before breaking into a small jog up to the campus. Signs pointing to the event adorned the lawn as Mark made his way there.

He took a few turns before coming upon a gym. He opened the door and was met with a sea of people and all kinds of experiments and technologies. He stood in awe, just observing everything around him. For the next couple of hours, he walked up and down the aisles, taking pictures and listening carefully to all the presenters. He was observing a particularly cool machine when he was interrupted by someone on a microphone.

“Hello, I need everyone’s attention right now! Experiment #127 has gone missing, and we need everyone to quickly exit the gym be sure to check your bodies and under your shoes to make sure it didn’t bite you. If you’ve been bitten, please reach out to me. It’s very, ah, fatal,” the man in the lab coat announced urgently.

Mark looked up at the man, his heart pounding in his chest, as he watched all hell break loose. People were running into each other, things were being broken, and it was absolute chaos. Mark felt himself being shoved out of the way as he made his way towards the exit. Finally, after a few minutes of pushing and shoving, he was able to make it out, out of breath but relieved to have escaped the hell inside.

As darkness covered the streets, Mark walked home his shoulders slumped, annoyance bubbling within him as he muttered to himself. Of course, the one time he decided to go out, it would get ruined. As he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling of something on his neck. Out of instinct, thinking it was some type of mosquito, he swatted at his neck, feeling the bug squish under his hand.

“Ew, dude, so gross," he muttered to himself, looking at his hand. Mark's eyes widened as he noticed that the bug had eight crooked legs and big, beady eyes. It was definitely not a mosquito. He swatted, wiping his hand his on pants before , exclaiming how there was no way that could be the spider from earlier.

Trying to brush it off as some kind of coincidence, Mark kept walking only to feel his skin start to tingle, his body goes cold but he simply dismissed it as paranoia. Taking a few more steps, he felt his legs turn to jelly, his eyes getting heavy, and he started to feel disoriented before everything turned black.

•

"Is he dead?"

"No, Y/n, he isn’t dead. His leg just twitched."

"I don’t know, Hyuckie, sometimes dead people twitch."

"HOW CAN SOMEONE TWITCH IF THEY'RE DEAD-"

"OH SHOOT, HE'S MOVING! IS HE A ZOMBIE?"

"Y/N, HE'S NOT DEAD, HEADASS."

Mark's head absolutely ached, and the voices he heard were not helping at all. He groaned as he sat up, rubbing his head. By now, it was morning, and the sun was shining onto him. His glasses were somehow still on his face, but his vision was blurred. With ease, Mark took off his glasses and gasped at the sudden clarity. He could see everything, including the two people in front of him.

They both looked about his age. The boy had dark brown hair and an annoyed look plastered on his face, as if passed-out Mark was some kind of inconvenience. Next to him was a girl, a bit shorter than him, with h/c hair, and a surprised yet curious expression on her face.

"Ah, where the hell am I?" Mark hoarsely asks as he looked between the two. The two exchanged a look of concern before carefully helping Mark onto his feet.

"We found you passed out on the side of the street this morning on our way to a friend’s house, so my sister here thought we should check to make sure you weren��t dead," the boy explained.

Mark rubbed his eyes before cursing, pulling out his phone to see numerous frantic texts and missed phone calls from his aunt and uncle.

"SHIT, they're gonna kill me," Mark muttered, running his hand through his hair. "I've got to go," he said, about to leave. The girl protested, "BUT WAIT, DON'T GO! WHAT IF YOU'RE HU--" And before she could finish her sentence, the boy was already sprinting back home.

"This is what you get for trying to help someone," the boy, Haechan, teased his sister as she rolled her eyes, and they headed to their destination.

•

Mark ran home as fast as he could, his heart pounding out of his chest. He reached the front door and before he could touch the handle, it flew open, revealing his distressed aunt. Her face went from sadness to relief to anger in a matter of seconds as she opened her mouth to reprimand him.

"Lee Minhyung, where in the hell were you?" his aunt demanded, hitting him on the back of the neck, the exact place where he had gotten bitten. Mark winced, but then a thought struck him. Why wasn't he dead? He had passed out from that spider bite that that one professor said to be fatal.. how was Mark still alive?. His thoughts were interrupted as his auntie embraced him, hugging him tightly.

"Please don't do that again, Mark. You scared me and your uncle half to death. I know we've been moving a lot, but I swear this is the last time. I'm sorry if that was upsetting you," she pleaded.Mark enclosed his arms around his aunt, apologizing for his disappearance. He was relieved that his auntie didn’t question it anymore, just happy for him to be back.

"Oh and, Mark,please shower. I love you, but you stink," his auntie teased. Mark lightly laughed before heading into the house , going straight to his room, grabbing some spare clothes, and going to the bathroom. He turned on the hot water and got in the shower, letting out a sigh of relief at how relaxing it felt. As he scrubbed his shampoo-filled hair, he tried to recall everything that had happened – the science fair, walking home, the spider bite, the two weirdos – but nothing inbetween the bite and waking up came to mind.

He turned off the shower, wrapping his body in a towel before heading to his room. Shutting the door, he sat on his bed and looked in the mirror, noticing something different. His body looked completely transformed. Mark wasn't out of shape before, just a bit skinny, but now he could barely recognize himself. His whole body was toned, his arms looked like he lifted weights every day.

"What the actual fuck is going on?" Mark muttered to himself, completely confused. First, he passed out, then he couldn't see with his glasses, and now he was built like a character from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure."Minhyung, I made dinner," his aunt's voice rang from the kitchen, snapping Mark out of his thoughts. He quickly got dressed and joined her at the table.

"I made Jajangmyeon," his aunt said, gesturing to the food.

"Ah, thank you, Auntie, I appreciate it," Mark nodded, smiling as she took a seat and began to pray.

“Hey, Mark, I see you're back from your little adventure. I told you, Jen, the man just needed some time to himself," his uncle said, entering the room. He clasped Mark's shoulder as his aunt rolled her eyes and told him to clean up and join them.

As Mark dug into the delicious meal, he couldn't help but notice his auntie and uncle looking at him in awe as he managed to eat five, going on six bowls.

"Who are you and what did you do with my nephew? his auntie chuckles as mark ravenously ate. Mark pauses his eating laughing quietly and shrugging, but he couldn’t help thinking again… what in the hell was wrong with him.”

•

As Mark settled back into his daily routine, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Strange changes were occurring within him. His senses seemed sharper, his reflexes quicker. Initially, he attributed it to the adrenaline rush from the spider venom clearing out of his system, but as more days passed, he began to realize there was something going on with his body he just didn’t know what.

Like a couple days ago he found his phone quite literally sticking to his hand like glue. Another time, as his auntie was about to drop something, and he experienced a weird tingling sensation, and with lightning-fast reflexes, he managed to catch it before it hit the ground. And then there was the odd incident when he dropped something, and as he thrust out his wrists to catch it, he noticed a sticky white fluid oozing from his wrists.

All these thing led Mark to a startling conclusion: either he was going through puberty again, which compared to the things happening to him did not seem highly unlikely, or that spider bite had changed him. It had altered him into some kind of superhuman freak, and Mark struggled to weigh that in his head.

Night after night, Mark found himself hunched over his computer, scouring the web for any clue that could shed light on his newfound abilities. Hours turned into days as he delved into articles and videos, hoping for a breakthrough, only to be met with frustration and defeat. With a heavy sigh, he ran his hands through his hair in frustration before defeatedly turning off his computer and chucking his notebook full of possibilities at the wall. His exhaustion was taking over and he decided to tackle this spider shit tomorrow.

As Saturday morning arrived,Mark found himself awake earlier than usual. The cool breeze whispered through the open window, beckoning him outside. Needing to clear his head a bit , he quietly slipped out of the house, not wanting to disturb his sleeping auntie and uncle. The streets were quiet, the wind was cool, and it was the perfect time for a morning jog.

As Mark pounded the pavement, his thoughts swirled with uncertainty. The rhythmic thud of his footsteps and the steady beat of his music provided a temporary escape, allowing him to clear his mind. He looks at his watch seeing that it was somehow 1 pm… he has been running for a little over 6 hours and hadn’t even worked up much of a sweat.

“What the actual hell is going on.” he groans to himself as he decides to take a break from jogging and try and find something to eat. Weirdly enough , as he was walking down the street a strange sensation washed over him—a familiar tingling that prickled his skin and made the hairs on his arms stand on end. With a frown, he removed his headphones, tuning in to the sounds of the city awakening around him.

Ahead, in a dimly lit alley, Mark heard voices—a commotion that was almost inviting him to come in. Peering around the corner, he spotted a group of men surrounding a lone girl backpack. Their menacing words echoed off the walls as they demanded her belongings."Come on, Stark, no one is here to save you. Hand over your stuff, and nobody gets hurt," one of the men taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

Mark's heart raced as he watched the scene unfold, his mind racing to place where he had seen the girl before. There was something familiar about her, something that tugged at the edges of his memory, but he couldn't quite grasp it. With a surge of adrenaline, Mark knew he couldn't stand idly by. He put his hoodie over his head concealing his face and took a big deep breath. This was his moment to step into the unknown, to test the limits of his newfound powers, and to help someone out.

"And why should I? If you want money so bad, get a JOB... J-O-B. Do you need me to spell 'application' out for you too?" The girl retorted, a hint of amusement in her voice, before one of the guys grabbed her collar.

Without a second thought, Mark sprang into action. With newfound agility and strength, he swiftly removed the robber from the girl's grasp and stood between them, a dorky determined expression on his face as he kept his face down not wanting his identity to be seen by robbers.

"Uh, I wouldn't be doing that if I were you," Mark said, attempting to deepen his voice, though he couldn't help but cringe inwardly at how it came out.

"Oh my God, who is this loser?" the man scoffed, joined by his two lackeys in mocking laughter.

Mark's heart sank at their taunts, but he steadied himself. "Alright, captain save-a-hoe over here. What exactly will you do to me, loser?" the man sneered, before Mark's fist connected with his jaw, sending him crashing into a pile of trash cans.

"Holy shit, that kid is strong," the other two men exclaimed, abandoning their unconscious companion and fleeing the scene.

Rubbing his barely aching hand, Mark turned to the girl. "Oh, hey... you're welcome for saving you," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"Uh, thanks, I guess," she replied awkwardly, eyeing him with a mixture of surprise and skepticism. "I totally was handling it on my own, but, uh, yeah, sure, thanks."

Mark felt a pang of disappointment. He had hoped to be hailed as a hero, not dismissed like he some kind of nuisance. "Sorry, it just looked like you needed help—"

"I didn't. I could've handled it on my own," the girl interjected firmly, before turning to walk away.

Mark sighed, preparing to leave, when he heard her voice again. "Wait, I know you... you're the boy from a few weeks ago, I found passed out." She comes up to him taking his hoodie off, she had gotten a small glance at him when he had bolted in the alley.

And then it clicked—Mark remembered her. "Yeah, that was me. Uh, thank you for helping me that day. I was in such a rush, I wasn't thinking," he admitted sheepishly.

"No worries, consider us even," she said with a soft giggle, extending her hand. "I'm Stark, Y/n Stark."

Mark's eyes widened in surprise. "L-like Stark Industries?" he stammered. Although He had just moved to the US, he would be a fool to not know who Tony Stark was, the billionaire superhero with a niche for technology. The name was practically synonymous with heroism and technological advancements.

Y/n rolled her eyes, clearly used to this reaction. "Yes, like Stark Industries. Usually people say their name when they introduce themselves, but yeah," she replied sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm Mark, Mark Lee," he replied, feeling a bit flustered as he shook her hand.

"Jesus, your grip is strong as hell. Do you lift or something?" Y/n remarked, her eyebrows raised in surprise as she looks from Mark to her attacker that laid knocked out on top of some trashcans.

Mark chuckled nervously, his heart racing as he hesitantly agreed, earning a laugh from the girl beside him. "So, uh, why were those guys giving you a hard time?" he asked, hoping to keep the conversation going.

The girl rolled her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Hmm, let me guess. Maybe the fact that my father is a billionaire and one of America's most annoying men on the planet, who knows," she replied sarcastically, her tone laced with slight annoyance.

Mark sheepishly scratched his neck, nodding in understanding. "Uh Can I walk you home or something?" he blurted out, surprising himself with his boldness.

The girl giggled, giving him a small nod. As they walked side by side, Mark listened intently as Y/n told him about her life—her school, her dad, her step-brother Haechan. She spoke with pride about the things in her life, and Mark couldn't help but admire her confidence.

"What about you? I've talked so much about myself, I forgot to even ask you anything," Y/n said, her voice light with laughter.

Mark stumbled over a few awkward "ums" before launching into a tangent about his own life—constantly moving, living with his overprotective auntie and careless uncle, and the fact that he had never had any close friends.

Y/n listened attentively, offering encouraging nods and murmurs of understanding. "Well, you know what, Mark? Consider us friends," she declared, extending her hand in a gesture of truce.

Mark hesitantly shook her hand, feeling a rush of warmth at the simple gesture. She squeezed his hand before announcing that they had arrived at her home.

"Wow, it's really—" Mark began, but Y/n cut him off with a knowing smirk.

"Big, huge, expensive, amazing, and awesome. Thank you. It was a high school graduation gift. This is what happens when you graduate top of your class and your dad is loaded," she finished, her laughter filling the air.

As they reached a gate, Mark watched intently as Y/n tentatively punched in a number. "So, I'll see you around," he trailed off, feeling a sense of reluctance to leave.

"That you will," Y/n replied, her smile radiant. Mark swore her eyes sparkled a bit in the light.

"Thank you, Mark," she said, hurrying through the gate and waving goodbye. Mark waved before walking back home a bit awe struck at the encounter.

•

"Hey, Hyuck," the girl greeted, her hand pushing open the huge door to the sprawling mansion. "And Jeno... and Jaemin and Renjun," she added, spotting her brother's best friends lounging on the plush couch, engrossed in some sort of fighting video game.

"Hey, Y/N," they chorused in unison, their attention briefly diverted before returning back to their game.

"Hate to ruin the fun and all, but Hyuck, can I talk to you?" Y/N asked, her smile carrying a hint of suspicion.

"Yeah, sure," Haechan replied, casting a curious glance at his sister, waiting for her to speak.

"Ahem, ALONEEEE," Y/N insisted, emphasizing the word.

"Ugh, fine," he grumbled, rising from the couch and following Y/N into an empty room. Y/n closes the door behind him as he urges her to speak.

"Okay, well, I almost got mugged today," Y/N confessed weirdly calm.

"AGAIN??? What have I told you about leaving the house without keeping a communicational tracking device? Also Haechan scolded, his irritation all over his face.

“Also you know how to fight i don’t know why you never use that.”

"Ugh that’s so annoying and heavy plus Find my iPhone works just as well, and my dear brother violence is never the answer ," Y/N replied, scratching her neck.

Haechan rolls his eyes at her reply knowing she was full of shit.

"Aht anyways , key word though: ALMOST... I got saved," she continued, a spark of excitement in her eyes.

"Okay, so what's so crazy about that?" Haechan sighed, already bracing himself for another wild story from his sister.

"You know the really cute weird guy we found tweaking on the sidewalk one morning on our way to class?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with even more excitement.

"Yes..." Haechan replied cautiously, raising an eyebrow in anticipation.

"Get this: he's the one that saved me," Y/N revealed, her words hanging in the air, begging for a reaction.

Haechan's eyebrow shot up even higher, his interest piqued. "Okay, but this time he was strong as hell, some kind of superhuman strength, I swear to God. And he dropped in at the perfect time, it was crazy."

"I know exactly where this is going, Y/N," Haechan interrupted.

"Just hear me out, Hyuck," Y/N pleaded, her excitement bubbling over once again.

"I think we should tell Dad about this. It was a bit strange, and I don't know, I think he's some kind of mutant or superhuman guy thingy for sure," Y/N suggested, her mind racing with possibilities.

"Don't you think before you tell Tony, you should get, like, some proof? He could just be really strong, and you know, we did find him on the side of the road. It could be Crack. I heard Crack make people hella strong at times," Haechan reasoned, his tone tinged with skepticism.

Y/N shot her brother a withering glare as her eye twitched in annoyance. "We live in a world full of actual superheroes. Our uncle is a big radioactive green man, and you think this boy is on CRACK ," she said, her frustration evident.

Haechan shrugged indifferently before turning to walk off. "You know how Tony is. Get proof that this guy is some sort of superhuman, and then you can tell them."

"So you're saying I should pull a Joe Goldberg and follow him around," Y/N muttered sarcastically under her breath as Haechan walked away to join his friends.

“Not exactly what I meant, but if that gets you your info, then be my guest," Haechan called back over his shoulder before disappearing into the living room area.

"Asshole, so much for his help," Y/N muttered to herself, shaking her head in disbelief as she retreated to her room to devise a plan. She was determined to uncover the truth about the mysterious boy who had come to her rescue.

•

As the middle of September came, Mark finally felt like he had some peace in his life. Despite that spider bite giving him these wacky powers, things were good. He was starting up at a private college soon meaning, he finally had a chance to make friends and enjoy being in school for a longer period of time. Although he moved a lot, Mark always made sure to stay on top of his grades and work, and he was so smart that when moving down to New York, he was offered a scholarship at one of the top high-class private colleges. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly excited. His auntie and uncle were doing well and were in good health, and things actually felt normal.

Or at least, normalish. His days were fine, but his nights were filled with endless research. "Radioactive spiders," "superhuman," "mutants" were all over his Google search history. His notebook was filled with pages upon pages of his abilities and his discoveries. Mark would be lying if he said he didn't sneak out his window a few times to stop some petty crimes, dressed in all black and a raggedy Halloween mask to conceal his face.

But despite his newfound abilities and the excitement of starting college, Mark couldn't shake the feeling of something missing. He missed the chance encounter with Y/n, the girl who had saved him and intrigued him all at once. He found himself thinking about her more often than he cared to admit, wondering where she was and if he would ever see her again. But for now, he had to focus on not embarrassing himself on this first day of school keep his nighttime escapades under wraps. After all, being a superhero wasn't exactly part of his college plans.

•

The sun crept through the curtains, casting a soft glow into Mark's room as his Auntie Park flicked on the light switch, breaking the peaceful morning silence. "Why is it that you’re finally an adult, and I still have to wake you up early for school like you’re 8?" she chided, her voice warm yet tinged with annoyance, before kissing Mark on his head and leaving his room.

Mark groaned, his eyes still heavy with sleep as he rubbed them, reluctantly pulling himself out of bed to start his day. The cozy warmth of his blankets calling for him to stay in bed as he stretched, his muscles protesting the early hour. With a seep sigh, he shuffled over to his closet, grabbing his school uniform he received at his orientation. He was slightly confused that at his big age he’d be wearing a uniform to college, but he wrote it off as something that rich people probably did. He shrugged the thought off as he hastily got dressed, adjusting his tie carefully.

Rushing to the bathroom, Mark brushed his teeth and splashed his face with water aka his sorry excuse of a skin care routine. Drying his face he scurries to put on his shoes-all the while Grabbing a piece of toast from the kitchen, Mark quickly pecked his auntie on the cheek, telling her he’ll see her later before dashing out the door to catch his train to school.

The train ride calming, soft murmurs and the rhythmic hum of the engine, punctuated by the occasional screech of brakes as it slowed to a stop caused Mark to relax a bit. He closed his eyes, his mind drifting with the music pouring through his headphones.

Stepping off the train, Mark found himself immersed in the early morning bustle of the city streets, the cool morning air hit him as he made his way towards the big gates of his prestigious private school. Cobblestones lined the walkway, while vibrant flowers danced in the gentle breeze,

The stained-glass windows of the school caught the early sunlight, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the ground below. Each pane was a reminded Mark of attending church early in the morning with his Auntie and Uncle as a Kid. Mark paused, momentarily lost in the thought , before finally tearing his gaze away to enter the new school .

Inside, the air was alive with the energy of rowdy students and bustling footsteps, students mingling in clusters as they navigated the long hallway. With a deep breath, he pushed forward, his footsteps echoing against the polished floors as he walked to his first class of the day.

Opening the door, Mark was greeted by the warm smile of his teacher as the bell chimed signaling everyone to get to their classes. The teacher greets the class before asking Mark to stay in front of the class to introduce himself.

Mark swayed a bit clenching his jaw as he stood in front of a sea of people wearing red and blue.

his eyes were glued straight ahead as he introduced himself, he adjusts his uniform cuffs as he nervously speaks up.

The classroom hummed with the anticipation as Mark nervously stood before his classmates, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat. "Yo.. uh hi, my name is Mark," he began, his voice betraying him as he cleared his throat. "I'm from Canada, and then I moved to Korea for a bit, and they're both a bit different from New York." His words spilled out in a rush, the syllables tumbling over one another as he struggled to find his footing in this unfamiliar environment. "Uh, I live with my aunt and uncle, and, uhm, yeah, that's about it," he concluded with a nervous laugh, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he scratched the back of his head.

The teacher nodded encouragingly, gesturing for Mark to take a seat as the other students shifted in their chairs, their curious gazes following his every move. Mark offered a quick bow in gratitude before hurrying to his desk, his mind focused on how he just embarrassed himself. "Way to go, Mark," he chided himself, rubbing his temples wishing he could get rid of the awkwardness in the air from his introduction. With a deep breath, he forced himself to focus as the teacher launched into a lesson on chemical matter, the words washing over him in a blur of scientific nonsense .

Mark began to take notes on the board, plugging his earbuds in as he begins his assignment. Everyone else’s focus is interrupted by the entrance of a late classmate.

The door swung open as a girl stood in the doorway, her uniform askew and her hair gathered into some weird crossover of a ponytail and a bun, she gives the teacher a toothy smile and a sorry as she tries to catch her breath.

The teacher's annoyed sigh filled the room as He sternly gaze at the girl. "Miss Y/n, this is the third time you've been late this week… and it’s only Wednesday,"He said, his tone full of annoyance.

Y/n's eyes widened with remorse as she profusely apologized , her words tumbling out scattered . "I know, I've just been getting caught up with other things," she explained, her voice trailing off as she met the teacher's unwavering gaze. With a weary sigh, the teacher issued a final warning, threatening to involve Y/n's father if her punctuality did not improve. Defeated, Y/n slunk to the back of the classroom, sinking into an empty desk next to the new boy, her expression a mixture of annoyance and frustration .

As Mark’s head nodded to the beat of his headphones, he felt a subtle shift in the air beside him. Sensing someone's presence, he instinctively unplugged his headphones, his gaze locking with y/n's, whose eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected encounter.

"Mark?" she exclaimed, a hint of disbelief painting her voice as she struggled to contain her excitement at the random meeting.

"Oh, Wow yo y/n, hey," Mark replied, equally taken aback by their chance encounter. The coincidence of the girl that’s he’s been thinking about going to the same school as him made his heart pitter-patter.

"You're stalking me or something, tiger?" y/n teased, a playful smirk gracing her lips as she watched Mark's face flush with embarrassment at the nickname.

"N-no, no, no, it's just—" Mark stuttered, his words faltering as y/n interrupted him with a soft laugh, her amusement evident in the twinkle of her eyes.

"I'm just messing with you, but seriously, what brings you here—to a small private college in New York?" y/n inquired, her curiosity piqued as she observed Mark with a raised eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over him inquisitively.

"Last time I checked, you aren't a spoiled rich kid whose family buys everything for them. You also just look really out of place," she added, a playful grin dancing on her lips as Mark chuckled nervously and explained the circumstances of his scholarship.

"Wow, so you're much smarter than you look. Good to know," y/n remarked teasingly, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a mischievous smile as they shared a lighthearted moment.

As the lesson resumed, Mark and y/n launched into small talk, their conversation flowing effortlessly, their laughter mingling with the hum of the classroom. Despite their initial awkwardness at their first meeting , Mark couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity in y/n's presence, as if they were old friends catching up after a long absence. And as they went deeper in conversation, the world outside faded into the background, leaving only the two of them, lost in their convo.

•

As the teacher's lesson drew to a close, the classroom gradually began to stir signaling the end of the class. Mark watched as his classmates gathered their belongings, their movements synchronized as the excited the class. The teacher's voice rose above the all the movement , emphasizing the importance of an upcoming assignment deadline.

Mark didn’t even hear a word he said his attention was suddenly diverted by the presence of y/n, standing just a few steps behind him. Surprise flickered across his features as he turned to face her, his curiosity piqued by what she’s about to ask him.

"What class do you have next?" she asks, her voice cheery as ever.

Mark blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback by the question. "Uh, this is my lunch period," he replied, trying to remember .

A smile tugged at the corners of y/n's lips as she met his gaze. "It's mine too," she revealed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Mark nodded in acknowledgment, a sense of relief washing over him at the fact that he didnt have to sit by himself at lunch. "Uhh maybe, we can go together then," he suggested, his words punctuated by a slight stutter.

Y/n's smile widened at his response, her excitement contagious as she grabs his wrist. “Uh isn’t the lunch room, this way?” Mark asks gesturing down a hallway as y/n looks at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not," she declared, her tone laced with determination. "Let's take my car and go off campus."

Mark's brow furrowed in confusion, no way he goes to a school like this and the food is bad.

"Is the food bad or something?" he asked curious fabout how quickly she’s ready to leave

Y/n shook her head, a playful glint in her eye. "No, the food is fine," she reassured him. "It's just... it's loud and there are too many people. I prefer to eat out."

Mark nodded in understanding, his curiosity giving way to intrigue as he followed y/n's lead, allowing her to guide him out of the classroom and into the bustling parking lot beyond.

As they made their way across the asphalt parking lot, y/n's steps quickened with purpose, leading them to a vibrant red 1990 Acura parked nearby. Mark's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the vintage vehicle, its classic design standing in stark contrast to the sleek sports cars that dotted the parking lot.

"Nice ride, huh?" y/n remarked, her gaze seeking Mark's approval.

Mark nodded in agreement, his admiration evident as he took in the car's well-maintained exterior. "Yeah, it's pretty cool," he conceded, a smile gracing his lips as y/n unlocked the car, signaling him to get in the passenger seat.

As y/n settled into the driver's seat, she reached over to fasten her seatbelt, adjusting her mirrors as the car roared to life. Mark watched her with interest, noting the way her delicate fingers navigated the controls of her phone, he quickly looks away when he thinks he might be staring too hard.

"Do you like SZA?" she asks, her eyes flicking to meet his as she pulled out of the parking lot, the slow beat of the music filling the car with its infectious rhythm.

Mark's face lit up with excitement at the mention of the artist. "I do, I really love music in general," he replied, his voice oozing with enthusiasm as he settled into his seat. As the melody enveloped them, he found himself humming along, his voice blending seamlessly with the rich tones of the song.

Y/n's smile widened at his response, "Oh really now, that's super cool," she remarked, her gaze softening as she focused on the road ahead. "I love music as well. I'm not a singer—I can't hold a single note—but I appreciate the beauty of it."

The next twenty minutes passed in a blur of laughter and song recommendations, the car filled with the sounds of their shared enthusiasm. As y/n drove through the busy winding roads, , their conversation flowed effortlessly as they delved deeper into each other's lives.

Eventually, y/n pulled up to a gate, her hand entering a code before the gate swung open, granting them access to the sprawling estate Mark had seen before.

Y/n parks the car, and motions Mark to follow her as she stepped out of the car, her footsteps echoing against the polished marble of the driveway. As they made their way towards the entrance.

As they reached the door, y/n fumbled a bit with the buttons, her fingers tapping eagerly against the keypad until the lock clicked open, revealing the warm glow of the entrance, only to be met with the sight of her brother and his friends sprawled out on the couch, their attention fixed on the tv and a greasy pizza box balanced on the coffee table.

"Why are you guys skipping class?" y/n demanded, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she looked the scene before her. Her brother and his friends exchanged sheepish grins, their laughter echoing through the room.

"Free period," Jeno replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, his gaze meeting y/n's with a hint of mischief.

"We can ask you the same thing, missy," Jaemin chimed in, a sassy smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Aht, it's my lunch period," y/n retorted, her tone laced with playful defiance as she stepped further into the room, her eyes scanning the faces of her brother's friends. Spotting Mark hovering awkwardly by the doorway, she motioned for him to join her.

"This is Mark," she introduced, her voice warm as she gestured towards him. "Mark, this is Jaemin, Jeno, and Renjun. You've met Haechan."

Mark nodded politely, a small smile playing at his lips as he exchanged greetings with y/n's brother and his friends.

"Anyways, I'm gonna warm us up some food, and we can sit in my room," y/n announced, her trying to contain her excitement as she moved towards the kitchen. But before she could finish her sentence, Haechan interjected with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Not so fast, someone is in the office right now, and if he realizes you're home without saying anything to him, he's gonna be pissed," he teased, a grin spreading across his face as y/n groaned in frustration.

But before y/n could protest, Haechan's expression shifted, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he turned to Mark with a devilish grin.

"Come here, Mark. Have you ever wanted to meet Tony Stark?" he asked, his voice tinged with excitement as he beckoned Mark closer.

•

"Are you serious? Really?" Mark asked, his eyes widening in surprise at Haechan's revelation.

"No, sorry, I was kidding. You should've seen the look on y'alls faces! I couldn't resist," Haechan chuckled mischievously, dodging a playful swipe from y/n as she scolded him.

"You're so annoying, Hyuck," she groaned in mock exasperation before turning to Mark with an apologetic smile. "Come on, Mark, let's go."

Mark followed y/n down a hallway, the sounds of laughter and chatter fading behind them as they ascended a staircase. They made a few turns before arriving at a door, y/n swinging it open arms wide.

"Welcome to my humble abode," she announced, gesturing grandly at the cozy space beyond.

"Humble, really? Your room is as big as my whole house," Mark chuckled, his eyes roaming over the aesthetically pleasing decor that adorned the walls and windowsills. Lush green plants added a touch of nature to the space, while a plush rug sprawled across the floor invited relaxation. Bean bag chairs beckoned from one corner, while a large bed occupied another, and y/n's impressive PC setup commanded all of Mark’s attention.

"Take off your shoes and make yourself at home," y/n insisted, gesturing for Mark to get comfortable.

"I'm gonna go warm us up some leftover pasta from this really good place down the street," she continued, flashing Mark a bright smile before darting downstairs. Moments later, she returned, balancing two steaming plates of pasta in her hands.

•

The two of them sat comfortably on y/n's floor, plates of pasta in hand, both glued to some random video that y/n had put on.

"You know, Mark, I have a question," y/n began, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"What's up?" Mark replied, a mouthful of food momentarily slowing his response.

"You know a few weeks ago when you saved me?" y/n asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

Mark's hesitation was evident as he replied, "Uh-huh..."

"Did that have anything to do with you passing out on the sidewalk and having that big-ass spider bite on you?" y/n pressed, her gaze fixed intently on him.

Mark's attempt at denial was feeble. "Uhhh, no, what? Why? Nooo," he stammered, his words failing to convince her.

"Uhh, what spider? How do you know it's a spider? It could be a totally different bite, like mosquitoes," Mark blurted out, his voice laced with nervousness.

y/n looked at him deadpan before bursting into laughter. "Oh, Mark, I'm not stupid! You got bitten by something, and it gave you powers. AKA, that spider that got loose at that science expo."

Mark's eyes widened in disbelief. "Uhhh, how did you know that?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

y/n simply shrugged. "I did a little research," she replied casually. "You were found a few blocks from a college that later announced to, uhh, let's say 'higher ups' that a dangerous spider got loose. And then you just so happened to step in and beat those assholes up when I was in trouble."

Mark's shock was evident as y/n continued. "Oh, and let's not forget your nightly crusades," she added, watching as different emotions flitted across Mark's face.

"You wanna know how I know, Mark?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.Mark nodded, eager to hear her explanation.

"Okay, well, the news has been saying lately that petty crime rates have been down, and those assailants all end up somehow wrapped in webs? Crazy, right?" y/n chuckled, observing Mark's reaction.

"Also, I didn't know if that was exactly you, but your face confirms my suspicions," she said, giggling.

"I... I don't know what to say," Mark admitted, feeling a bit unnerved by y/n's deduction.

"The only thing I want you to say is yes," y/n said, her eyes locking onto his.

"Yes?" Mark asked, confusion evident in his tone.

"Yes," y/n affirmed. "Mark, let me train you. Let me be your brains of operation. Let me turn you into a real superhero."

Mark tilted his head at her, a bit hesitant. After a moment of contemplation, he uttered a confident, "Yes!"

•

WOAHH i am so tired LOL!!! hope you guys enjoyed i love me someee spider man mark lee!!! idk mark and peter parker just have so many cute dorky similarities i love it. a few things im gonna say

-Mark is spider-man in this Au there is no peter parker

-His Aunt and Uncles last names are Park a little reference to Peter’s Aunt May and Ben Parker

-reader & haechan are half siblings that grew up together aka tony stark is a man whore!

anyways second part will be up soon :)!! i’m turning 20 in a few days so it may not update for a minute!!!! also thank you guys for really loving challengers 🤗💞💞

#mark lee #nct 127 #mark lee nct #nct dream #mark lee reader #nct fluff #mark lee fluff #mark lee spider man #mark fluff #mark lee smut #nct au #nct scenarios #nct fic #nct imagines #nct smut

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lostsyren · 2 months ago

Note

Sooooooooo OBSESSED with Rafe s4. Thinking sofia is afraid to introduce her parents to Rafe, because she is afraid of what Rafe will think and whether he will be all arrogant or not. So her parents go to Tannyhill to have lunch with her and Rafe and her mother is impressed with the house, and her father doesn't even know what to say and starts talking about things from their reality and God. The reader wants so badly for her parents to like Rafe, but she is also so apprehensive about what Rafe will think of her parents. And I keep hammering in my head what Rafe would think and do.

⋆˚✿° meeting the parents ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

{a/n: thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy!}

{summary: rafe has lunch with sofia’s parents}

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚

They’d been together long enough that she had to tell her parents about him. Their initial reaction had been anger.

Dating Rafe Cameron?

The Cameron family had a notorious reputation on the island, one heavy with murder, death and devastation. Sofia’s parents didn’t like the fact his father, Ward Cameron, was a killer, unsurprisingly. But Sofia had garnered enough care for the boy to see him for more than the salacious rumours and exaggerated libel.

Rafe was also wary about her parents. With his own family unit it such a disarray, Sofia understood his qualms– especially with how his father used to treat him.

Sometimes when it was late, the faint whisper of cicadas blanketing the silence, Rafe and Sofia lay together in his bed. He’d be gently strumming his fingers through her hair, eyes glassy and unfocused, fixated on the ceiling. It was in those moments Rafe would tell her about Ward Cameron: a man who was tough, a man who played favourites, a man who made his son think he didn’t love him. Sofia would just listen quietly, her fingers massaging his chest, feeling his heart beat race.

She supposed that’s why Rafe had asked to meet her family– because he didn’t really have one of his own.

Sofia put it off, making up excuses, changing the subject. A million things could go wrong, and she was happy just existing in her little bubble with Rafe; there was no need to ruin it.

So when she’d come home from work one day, ready to just collapse into bed, she was shocked to learn Rafe had gone behind her back to invite her parents himself.

So that’s how she’d ended up pulling into the driveway of Tannyhill, something she’d done a thousand times before, but now her parents were with her. She swallowed thickly, praying to god it went smoothly.

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚

Rafe debated on whether to set up the table in the dining room, the table in the back garden, or the one in the parlour. He’d whisked around the house, wondering what would make the best impression.

He’d woken up early to get everything ready, beginning to regret his decision when he realised that if her parents hated him, she might be out of his life. Rafe had wanted to show Sofia how much she meant to him– and that meant what was important to her, was important to him.

He opted for the porch outside, the distant view of the ocean and sweet summer air seeming idyllic. If he was being honest with himself, he was in over his head. Rafe tried to replicate what he saw Rose and Ward do when they’d host dinners. Get the linen out, use nice silverware from the cabinet, dress the table.

Rafe eventually gave up, when the table began to look cluttered and messy rather than elegant and tasteful– the image he was trying to project. He reservedly called up his housekeeper to help him out, while he helped the caterers he hired to bring the food in.

Everything was done. The plates were set, the silverware ready. His housekeeper had even brought along a bouquet of flowers for him to place as the centre piece (he’d given her the month off as a thank you).

As he was admiring the set up, his phone buzzed with a text from Sofia.

They were on their way.

Rafe hurriedly rushed upstairs to change, opting for a baby blue button down and white trousers, looking in the mirror with a shaky inhale of breath.

Be a man her parents admired. Respected. He nodded slowly as he repeated the mantra in his head, smoothening the material of his shirt, when he heard the sound of a car pulling up outside the house.

They were here.

He sped downstairs to meet them at the door, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls.

Rafe peered through the window to see Sofia along with her parents get out the car. Her dad was a tall man with hard eyes and an intimidating stare, her mom the complete opposite. Rafe felt a biting pang of hurt in his heart, the reminder of his own parental condition feeling like cold water drenching his insides. He sucked in a sharp breath, calming himself down, the image of Sofia in her pink sundress helping assuage his anxieties, before opening the front door.

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚

Sofia walked up to the house, Tannyhill feeling like an imposing, oppressive giant, her nerves twisting and coiling inside her like a loop of elastic.

Rafe appeared from the entrance, smiling widely– she could already tell he was also nervous.

Smiling at him, she gave him her hug, Rafe directing a kiss to her lips which she swerved sand redirected to her cheek, her parents scrutiny feeling too much.

Rafe then shook her parent’s hand, a string of greetings and welcomes following.

Soon Rafe was giving them a tour of Tannyhill.

“Wow, this is such a beautiful house.” Sofia’s mom mused, as Rafe led her around, showing her all of the historical artefacts Ward had displayed and the expensive pieces of art Rose had curated. Sofia had never seen him so eager to please, so attentive, so friendly. She brimmed with a sense of pride that he cared that much to make her parents feel welcome.

“Quite a big house for one person wouldn’t you say Rafe?” Sofia’s dad added, interrupting Rafe’s tangent explaining where they’d sourced the china figurines.

Sofia threw him a disparaging look, shaking her her head sharply. She’d warned him not to bring up her boyfriend’s family, knowing it was a sore spot for Rafe, but her dad was stubborn. Though he didn’t explicitly say, his words implied a question: where was his family?

“Basta,” Sofia mumbled softly in Spanish. Stop it.

“Yeah I guess, good thing I have Sofia here to keep me company,” Rafe joked, but she could tell he was left off kilter, his eyes straying to the family picture on the mantle piece.

“Well I think I’ve spoken enough, shall we eat?”

Rafe led them outside, Sofia’s eyes widening at the beautifully set table, soft, pink lilies blooming at the centre, the dappled sun pooling across the the linen.

“Thank you Rafe,” her mom said as he held out the chair for her, doing the same for Sofia.

He poured everyone drinks, the conversation easy and flowing as everyone ate their food. Sofia’s dad didn’t say much, just silently listening, gaze occasionally drifting off towards the ocean.

“¿Está todo bien papá?” Sofia asked quietly, to which he nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“Everything’s fine.”

As they were finishing their meals, the sounds of forks scraping against the plate, Sofia’s dad set down his drink, looking over towards Rafe.

“So Rafe, Sofia tells me you’re a property developer, how’s work going?”

Sofia’s eyes darted between her dad and Rafe, her breath becoming shallower in anticipation. Business talk was never good.

“Yeah I do. It’s going alright, just finishing up a big project near by Winston street.”

“Oh is it the one a half a mile away from the West harbour?”

“Yeah actually, you seen it?”

Her dad laughed ironically whilst Sofia twisted the napkin in her hand. This should be interesting. “Yeah actually, my good friend, Marcus, lived there with his family, before you guys came down and bought him out of it. He’s moved now– gone to the mainland.” Her dad placed his cutlery down, taking a long swig of beer to wash down the food.

Sofia glanced over to Rafe, to see his jaw tensed, unsure what to say, “oh, well it was sold to us for a good price I assure you, paid more that it was worth that’s for sure.” Rafe chuckled. Sofia grimaced at his answer, looking down at her feet under the table when he tired to look to her for reassurance..

Sofia’s dad furrowed his eyebrows, settling his beer down with a sof thud, “Oh is that right? Every house on the Cut probably seems that way to you huh? Dirt cheap.”

She noticed the moment Rafe’s eyes flashed with regret, knowing he’d said the wrong thing.

“I didn’t mean it like that sir–“

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Dad–“ Sofia interjected.

“Thanks for the lunch Rafe, it’s been lovely,” Sofia’s mom said, trying to alleviate the tension.

“Of course ma’am, I’m glad you enjoyed.”

Sofia’s dad stood up ready to leave, his hand outstretched over the table.

Rafe accepted it, the lingering expression of shock on his face, as the two shook hands.

“Thank you for dinner, I don’t mean to be harsh but seeing as you’re a successful developer, you should try and see a different perspective. This island isn’t just for one type of people, the Cut is slowly becoming more and more displaced– you have the power to stop that Rafe.”

Sofia agreed with what her father was saying. She’d often times feel a stirring disquiet whenever she’d hear of people having to move out of their homes in the Cut only to drive over to Tannyhill, listening to Rafe gloat about the best deal he’d ever gotten on a piece real estate.

She glanced over at Rafe, seeing his clamped down jaw– he definitely didn’t agree. She silently prayed he wouldn’t be combative, her hands gripping the napkin until her knuckles turned the same colour as the tablecloth.

But all he did was smile and nod amicably, “of course sir, thank you for telling me.”

Sofia breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well we’re heading off, you coming Sofia?” Her dad asked her as she stayed seated at the table.

“No it’s ok, you guys go ahead without me, I’ll stay and help Rafe clear up.”

“Ok sweetie, see you at home,” her mom said.

Rafe and Sofia stood outside watching as her parents drove off, his hands slipped around her waist. Sofia let out an inhale of relief once the car was out of sight, finally letting her shoulders drop her body sagging against Rafe’s.

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚

Rafe eyed Sofia perched up on the kitchen counter, her legs swinging rhythmically as he brought in the dishes. She was sipping at some wine, her heels kicked off on to the floor.

“I thought you stayed back to help me clear up huh?” He said, setting the dishes down in the sink.

“Fine, I’ll load the dishwasher then.”

“No leave it I’ll do it, just tell me, did I do ok? Do you think they liked me?” He was attempting to hide the bubbling insecurity frothing up inside of him, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“My mom for sure, my dad too, he was just being tough, don’t get too worked up by it.”

“How was I supposed to know it was his friend who lived there? And besides, it was a property deal– it’s not like I swooped under and stole his house from under his feet.”

“Well the new zoning laws kinda do make it seem that way Rafe.”

He stopped cleaning the dishes, turning to face her, “oh come on, you don’t agree with what he’s saying, do you?”

Sofia shrugged, reaching over to grab one of the appetisers that was left over, “the Cut is becoming more and more like Figure 8, rent is getting more expensive, people are leaving– it’s gentrification Rafe.”

“Sofia…come on, it’s business. That’s life. You want something and if you have the means to get it then you get it.” He’d left the dishes completely, striding over to her on the counter. Despite Sofia’s height advantage, he still managed to gain a couple inches on her. He knew Sofia had a different world view to him, she was sweeter, kinder. Where he was callous, she was soft. When he’d be judgmental she’d be empathetic. But they always found their way to a middle ground– that’s one of the things he loved about her.

“You’re speaking from a place of privilege, you need to see a different perspective like my dad said.”

“You mad at me now?” His face scrunched into a frown, the insecurity beginning to overflow.

“No I’m not mad, we’re allowed to disagree on things you know?”

“Fine ok. I’ll stick to properties on Figure 8, you happy?” Rafe didn’t know how true that was. He’d try and stick to it, but right now all he wanted was Sofia’s reassurance, and sweet talking and pretty promises was the way to it.

“Yeah?” She grinned, perking up.

“Yeah, now come here,” he mumbled, capturing her wine stained lips with a kiss.

“We still have to clean up Rafe,” she said, hooking her arms around his neck, her legs inching around his waist.

“Well you shouldn’t have worn that dress today– you know how hard it was to keep my eyes on your face when your parents were sitting right there?”

“Rafe!”

When things were like this, Rafe felt like he did have a family– Sofia was his family.

The thought of buying a new house, maybe a condo with an ocean view, settled in his mind. A fresh place where her could make new memories with her. Tannyhill was too suffocating, stuffed to the brim with painful reminders of the past.

She broke away from the kiss, leaving his lips trailing after hers as she rested her forehead against his own.

“Thank you for making such an effort with my parents today, I appreciate it.” Sofia said softly, face etched in sincerity.

Rafe’s heart soared in his chest, his effort never usually recognised, his good intentions usually falling flat.

But with her he felt seen. He felt understood. He felt loved.

Rafe smiled easily, pressing a kiss against her cheek, “no need to thank me.”

The two resumed their kisses, both tipsy from the alcohol, giddy from eachother before disappearing upstairs, leaving the dishes in the sink and the table yet to be cleared.

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 ⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚

#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe and sofia #sofia outer banks #sofia obx #rafe x sofia #drew starkey #fiona palomo #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe and Sofia fic #rafe and Sofia fanfiction #rafe X Sofia fanfiction #outer banks season 4 #obx 4 #༊*·˚syren

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buddiebeginz · 3 months ago

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Fandom I'm begging you all to wait and see how the season plays out. Everything right now seems to be pointing towards Buddie and sure I could be wrong but I also think it would be the shows downfall if they didn't make Buddie happen this season and I think Tim and abc know that.

This isn't just about catering to fandom whims this is that since right before s7 they've done so much to put focus on Buddie way more than with any season before. Deliberate choices have been made that if they're not leading to Buddie can't not be seen as queerbaiting. And yes a show with queer characters can still queerbait if they're using a popular queer ship to garner attention and views. Though I don't think that's what's happening here.

The only reason I think more didn't happen with Buddie last season is because the season was short and they got renewed for s8 early. You can tell if you watch from eps 1-6 that they were leading somewhere with Buddie (they had them singing a karaoke love song ffs) but changed gears after getting renewed for s8. At the same time Tim still didn't put more development or focus on b/t so it's not that Buddie happening was shelved (as in it's never happening) it was just paused.

Also I see people spiraling about that pic Ryan posted assuming because he's in a robe and because he put "Don Diaz" on it that it's a reference to Don Juan and this means Eddie is going to be hooking up with a bunch of women. I just don't see that happening. Ryan could have easily just been making a joke or trying to mess with fandom or it could mean nothing. It could be a Godfather reference. Or it could be something like Eddie tries to hook up with a random girl and he just can't do it and then that leads to him talking to the priest. Unfortunately we aren't going to know what that pic really means until the episode airs.

I know we've all been burned by the show (and other shows) before and I get being nervous about what could happen this season. But remember that Buck was supposed to come out in s4 (this has been confirmed by Oliver) and Eddie in s5 (this has been confirmed by the the insider) and presumably that's when Buddie would have happened. Buddie has been in the works for years. The main thing stopping it before was Fox and last season it was just too short to have Buck to come out, Eddie come out, and then Buddie to happen. 10 eps was just not enough time to tell such huge important stories for the show and these characters.

I know Tim and others behind the scenes of the show have made decisions we haven't always loved and maybe it's naive of me to still have trust in them after all this time but it's not just that. I see the signs. If I had seen more effort being put into b/t last season and into promoting them as a couple and especially if I saw that happening this season I'd be a lot more skeptical about the likelihood of Buddie ever happening. But I haven't seen any of that.

This season Tim has talked about how b/t are still together but he doesn't talk about the ship like it's this important thing, he talks about it like T*mmy is just like any other person Buck has dated. Meanwhile Eddie is ALWAYS mentioned when b/t are talked about including by Tim. Networks and showrunners know how to handle these kinds of things. If they wanted to minimize the attention Buddie gets they would have done so. We know this because that's exactly what they did in past seasons while they were with Fox, particularly after Tim left. Instead though since last season they've actually been putting more attention on Buddie, Ryan, and Oliver.

Like I said I get being nervous that something we've all hoped for for a long time might not happen. I know that Buddie and Eddie coming out means more to a lot of us than just some fictional characters and a ship. I know a lot of us see ourselves in them and we also see how important and groundbreaking in a way it will be when they finally go canon. I get why the anxiety around this season is heightened probably more so than any other season before it. We've never been as close to Buddie happening as we are now and that's so exciting but also scary.

But this is why I think we need to take every bts and spoiler etc that we get from the show and people involved in it (including the journalists who review it) with a grain of salt. We just aren't going to know what each episode is about until we watch them. Even when the season starts we need to remember to let the story play out. We might see things we won't like with b/t or Eddie in 801 but there will still be 17 more eps to get through where anything could happen.

We are so lucky that 911 is still on the air with most of the original cast still there and not looking to leave. That all the people that matter Tim, Oliver, and Ryan have all spoken out in support of Buddie happening. I've shipped non canon ships before that just were never going to happen, where showrunners and actors literally made fun of the fans for even shipping it. That's not what's happening with 911. Buddie now is being treated like a legitimate possibility we just have to be patient.

#buddie #911 buddie #eddie diaz #ryan guzman #911!#buddie s8 #911 s8*

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mariacallous · 7 months ago

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If you’re baffled by Skibidi Toilet, you’re not alone.

The bizarre animated YouTube series centers on an alien invasion: a swarm of singing heads, all popping out of toilets, has descended on a Los Angeles–like metropolis and triggered a surreal, cartoonish, apocalyptic war. That’s a more direct and clear explanation than you’ll find in the actual videos, since they’re all almost completely wordless. There’s no language barrier, which is a major reason why the videos have been viewed hundreds of millions of times, becoming a global cultural phenomenon among Gen Z and Gen Alpha.

Surprisingly for something so popular, Skibidi Toilet has garnered a reputation for being incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t a fan. Its impenetrable nature has raised serious concerns around the world. Some call it a moral outrage, foreign propaganda meant to prey on vulnerable young minds, or even a disease. In a cultural climate where it’s harder and harder to understand trends and popularity, people are searching for an explanation for how singing toilets conquered the world. On the May 22 episode of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert punched up a joke about the Biden campaign using Skibidi Toilet to attract the youth vote, saying that if anyone didn’t get the gag, their grandchildren could explain it “and you still won’t understand.”

As random as the videos can seem, their success isn’t. Skibidi Toilet deftly combines modern storytelling trends with nostalgic internet humor in a way that magnifies the outwardly confusing qualities of both. “It was initially appealing to young people for its utter weirdness,” says danah boyd, a partner researcher at Microsoft Research. “Parents (and many other adults) probably reacted with revulsion, as they’ve done many other times. That revulsion from adults makes it even more appealing to young people.”

That’s why the word “skibidi” has become a more general shibboleth for Gen Z and younger, in the same class as “rizz”, “gyat,” and “sigma.” Adults being shocked and confounded at kids having fun creates a feedback loop where kids want to make it even more distressing. The videos certainly have a lot of shock value, featuring surreal, disturbing, and violent imagery. In an interview with Forbes in February, Alexey Gerasimov, who creates the videos and uploads them under the name “DaFuq!?Boom!,” described the videos as being inspired by his own recurring nightmares.

In that light, it can be easy to see why the global success has been met with an equally global panic. Last August, several writers and journalists in Malaysia and Indonesia warned parents about the dangers of a “Skibidi toilet syndrome” that would cause children to refuse to stop imitating the toilet’s songs and dances. Earlier this year, Robbie Collin wrote in the Telegraph that the videos were a sign YouTube needed more strictly enforced age limits.

Other sources are going even farther, calling the surreal meme videos a threat to national security. In February, reporter Olga Sosnina claimed in a Swedish news outlet that Skibidi Toilet was Russian propaganda aimed at indoctrinating children. Russia was just as worried: In January, Moscow officials were called to investigate the videos. In April, Anna Mityanina, St. Petersburg’s Commissioner for Children’s Rights, played the videos to the city’s legislative assembly as part of an annual report on risks to children. “There is no need to pretend that there are no standards of decency,” Mityanina said. “A character in the form of a toilet, to put it mildly, is not cultured enough.”

For all of the worry, there isn’t much to be concerned about within the Skibidi Toilet videos themselves. “I see these media as reflective of our societal obsessions,” says boyd. “As always, young people twist it slightly in a way that makes adults uncomfortable because they don’t want to reckon with their own passions.”

The videos, as uncanny as they can get, don’t contain anything particularly unsuitable for children. The violence is unrelenting and large in scope, but never goes beyond cartoonish explosions and punches. Characters who appear to be killed or turned to the villain’s side regularly return to fight alongside the heroes. The largely wordless storytelling, of course, puts a limit on mature themes. Ultimately, the most “indecent” element of the videos is the toilets themselves, which will always be a hit with the younger generation.

That’s not the only area where Skibidi Toilet follows a long tradition. Gerasimov (who didn’t respond to multiple requests for comment) animates the videos using the Source Filmmaker program, but he’s modified the animation interface to emulate the 2006 game Garry’s Mod. Garry’s Mod, true to its name, was initially a fanmade modification of the game Half-Life 2 that removed any structure or objective, leading to a purely creative sandbox years before Minecraft’s Creative Mode. The game was used to create thousands of machinima videos throughout the late 2000s, and Gerasimov calls these videos a primary inspiration for Skibidi Toilet.

Maddy Buxton, the head of YouTube’s culture and trends team, says this is a major factor in the videos’ success. “One thing we know about Gen Z viewers and creators is they’re interested in nostalgia. It’s hearkening back to this earlier time, even if they didn’t grow up in it themselves,” Buxton says. Skibidi Toilet was one of the top trending topics last year on YouTube, where at one point it garnered 2.8 billion views in 28 days.

Nostalgia and scatological humor can be eye-catching, but to build up the kind of sustained interest and devotion Gerasimov has, there needs to be a story in its own right. The narrative of Skibidi Toilet isn’t communicated directly, but that only adds to its intrigue for many viewers, especially younger ones who are used to having to put in extra work to get the full picture. “We’ve been looking into the role of lore in building these big fan communities,” says Buxton. “The ones that aren’t just passively watching, but digging into the backstory.”

That digging is so popular that it’s transcending traditional structures of fandom. There’s no shortage of ways to be a fan of something online, but Skibidi Toilet’s audience has spent most, if not all, of their lives on the internet, and their work comes out in extremely online forms. Acolytes flood YouTube with breakdown videos and expand on the worldbuilding with Roblox games. Then there’s the comment-section fiction: Wherever the videos are posted, the comments are filled with dozens or hundreds of people providing their own written narratives retelling the events of the video, filling the gap left by the storytelling with their own words. It’s a cross between a liveblogged reaction and fan fiction, creating lore where none existed.

The idea of lore is now fundamental to the way many people consume any fiction, but it started in the world of video games, especially games like Dark Souls that have virtually no direct storytelling. There are hundreds of unofficial Skibidi Toilet games that let players take part in the battles, but the videos themselves invite a similar degree of participation.

“People are coming at it from different entry points,” says Buxton. “Some people are coming in from the gaming world, some are coming just for the action storytelling, some like to unpack lore.” She describes these unusual fan works as “casual creation,” saying that “this idea of being a daily creator makes it much easier to be an active fan than it was five, 10, 15 years ago. Now you can engage in the subject of your fandom by creating it online.”

Of course, Skibidi Toilet itself could be categorized as a fan creation, containing numerous echoes of Garry’s Mod and the Half-Life games. Like many recent works that emerge online, from streetwear trends to unauthorized TikTok musicals, Skibidi Toilet blurs the line between fan work and original work. “Lots of the kids who got into Skibidi Toilet don’t know anything about where these characters and assets are sourced from,” says Phillip Hamilton, an associate editor at Know Your Meme.

Beyond the actual content of the videos, their release schedule is also a factor. “Skibidi Toilet is huge with people (namely kids) who always want more,” says Hamilton. “Each episode is about a minute long and they blast by so fast, with episodes coming out super frequently.”

During the first wave of the videos’ popularity in mid-2023, Gerasimov was uploading at least two videos each week for months, sometimes uploading a video every single day. Social media algorithms have prioritized more frequent uploaders for years, and Gerasimov had been animating in Source Filmmaker for more than a decade, giving him enough experience to crank out the videos fast enough to satisfy YouTube’s algorithm.

This isn’t the first time the algorithm has popularized content that adults find inappropriate for children. In 2017, YouTube faced a public outcry when it was found that the platform was promoting hundreds of disturbing videos, and allowing them to be viewed on its family-friendly YouTube Kids app. The controversy would be known as “Elsagate,” since the offending videos featured popular children’s characters like Elsa, Spider-Man, and Peppa Pig undergoing gory medical procedures, getting kidnapped, and more.

These videos were transparent attempts to game YouTube’s recommendation system for ad revenue. Many of them had hundreds of seemingly inauthentic comments to boost engagement metrics, and a report by the New York Times found one prominent channel was creating videos with a team of roughly 100 people.

YouTube made changes to its algorithm to disincentivize scammers from making these videos. They can’t do the same to flush away Skibidi Toilet, because it wasn’t made to satisfy the algorithm in the same way. It’s a much smaller operation, made with genuine craft and artistic intention. Gerasimov made the videos longer and more ambitious as the series grew in popularity, but that growth happened thanks to people actually enjoying the series, not for associations with popular characters.

Nonetheless, they’ve become even more of a hit among the younger generation, and for parents, this seems to be the real underlying fear. “I think Skibidi Toilet’s ‘negative effects’ on kids are mostly just the obsessive, seemingly addictive aspect,” says Hamilton. “It’s the same reason parents worry about short-form video platforms like TikTok.” The videos took off at the perfect time—after the Covid-19 pandemic accelerated a general shift away from in-person social interaction—for their weirdness to feed into paranoia about what a screen-mediated life might be doing to impressionable young minds.

When it comes to children’s browsing habits, there are many scarier things they might find online than Skibidi Toilet. As strange as the videos are, they wouldn’t do very well as propaganda or even advertising. There’s no agenda, for good or ill, besides the entertainment value. In the Washington Post, Taylor Lorenz compared Skibidi Toilet to “harmless entertainment” like Cocomelon and other children’s videos. Not everyone is happy about the popularity of Cocomelon, but that popularity hasn’t caused the same kind of panic.

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sampoenjoyer · 7 months ago

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A Ramble About Sampard

I've seen different interpretations of Sampard, but by far my favorite, and how I'll always see them is like this:

It starts off with Sampo playfully flirting with Gepard, to mess with him, to get under his skin, and Gepard scoffs, ignores him, acts annoyed, but on some level it does get to him.

Eventually Gepard begins to flirt back in his own small ways: He makes quippy remarks, he adds a sarcastic joke, he does something lightly flirtacious.

Then it begins to develop into a fling; with both men being emotionally closed off asf, and putting up big barriers to hide their real emotions from everyone, they kinda assume its not going to be serious, nor become a real romantic relationship. Hell, I think they'd both think they don't have romantic feelings for another. Sampo views it as another fling, something to fill a void of loneliness, to garner some elation and have fun, and Gepard feels confused but excited, enjoying the flirting (and lets be real fucking) their getting up to, but on some level telling himself he could never be with a wanted criminal, that he's wrong for enjoying it.

After a while of a flirty fling they both begin to realize they have real romantic feelings for the other, and their almost upset at themselves as they realize they truly care for the other, they love the other. I think Gepard would intially be more open with his care, love and worry, whereas Sampo would remain closed off for a bit longer before opening up. I've always seen Sampo as the type who struggles to be really truly close with people, when things get too vulnerable or serious on his end he tries to leave, uncomfortable and almsot scared to show his true raw emotions, and always wanting to have an escape, to avoid serious relationships that could really hurt him.

I imagine once entering a realtionship they wouldnt really tell a lot of people, maybe just Serval, Lynx, and one or two other people, but mostly keeping it quiet, for both their sakes and Gepard's reputation, and I could see one day them being much more public.

ALSO EVENTUALLY GEPARD FINDS OUT SAMPO LIVES IN A LITERAL ALLEY WAY AND LETS HIM STAY WITH HIM CUZ YEAH. SERIOUSLY SAMPO FANDOM WE DO NOT TALK ENOUGH ABOUT HOW ITS CANON HE LIVES IN AN ALLEY WAY, PROBABLY SLEEPS IN A TRASH CAN. ANYWAYS RAMBLE OVER.

#sampard #sampo koski #gepard landau #honkai star rail #hsr #brainrot #ramble

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gii-1 · 6 months ago

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HEY SWEETIE!!!

How are you? I was thinking if you could write an jjk boys in Hollywood AU

jjk boys - hollywood au

ft. megumi, yuji, inumaki, yuta.

notes: im note sure what you fully meant by jjk boys so i just put all the ones from tokyo! hope you’re ok with that ( ・∇・) this was very hard for me to do so im kinda nervous if i did it right.

megumi ->

• i find it hard to picture megumi as an actor, i feel like it would be difficult for him to become an actor so it would probably take him more time to get the hang of it.

• but when he does, and if he’s really passionate about it he would be able to be really good at acting.

• i can imagine him getting into a really awkward conversation with one of those fans that go crazy about their favourite actor that they become a borderline stalker.

• he’d be so incredibly unsettled by it

• like if you were to cut the atmosphere with a knife it would be very thick

• i also think he would be the type to be extremely honest and blunt with his words, especially in interviews. this would garner a lot of attention.

• going back to him interacting with his fans, he would definitely be same.

• if you give him one of the most sincere, loving compliments in the world watch him go wordless. he’d be so flabbergasted that someone even views him that highly. will definitely remember you.

yuji ->

• this guy is an absolute movie connoisseur

• i can with 100% certainty he could easily become a good actor

• he would definitely aim to star in movies that are horror, but i also feel like he’d enjoy starring in romance movies aswell

• he will definitely be able to emotionally get into the moment when preforming a scene

• he’s so polite its not even funny anymore

• he would be very open in a interview, like he would be open about his experiences and you would be able to get to know a lot about him

• i can imagine him being ecstatic when seeing his fans, would be so happy if you asked him for a photo, he’d definitely do one of those silly poses or just have a big smile on his face.

• even talking to his fans would be really happy for him, i can imagine him to be a very friendly guy when it comes to his fans

• if he had any of those weird fans he would still be very polite about it and still talk to them, but he’d express his discomfort some way or another.

• if he got gifts from his fans he would cherish them with his life, like they spent time thinking about him and even got him a gift out of their own kindness, he’d be honoured.

inumaki ->

• i see him as a man of few words, being able to convey scenes in his own style using actions which plays out really well. this would be a very good trait of his.

• i feel like you can tell which movies he stars in because of this

• he’d have a very unique way of performing and putting his own twist to it makes it a lot more different from what is traditionally done. this would make his acting very interesting.

• this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, quite the opposite actually.

• in interviews i feel he would be honest about his opinion on things which would very appealing to people

• but i feel like it would take him a lot of time to develop as an actor before he would find his style.

•i think he wouldn’t mind the idea of talking to his fans but he wouldn’t do it too much

• but when he does, i think he’d be very thankful about it, especially if he gets compliments.

yuta ->

• one thing i’ve noticed about him is the fact he’s a very selfless person, this ties into his acting as well.

• at first when it comes to acting he would have a lot of awkward moments but as he gets used to the flow of being an actor he’s is able to adapt quite easily.

• i see him as a very comforting person, so if his fans asked him advice or told him what they were going through he would definitely make sure they were heard, he would be extremely reassuring to them.

• i also think because of his personality you can clearly tell he’s a very respectful person, like he constantly shows this in interviews and interactions in fans, not even purposefully as a way to make his reputation better but because he’s just that type of person.

• i feel like if he somehow accidentally got himself into drama he would deal things with a lot maturity, he’d make sure theres no substantial arguments.

#megumi x reader #yuuji x reader #yuji x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #toge x reader #itadori x reader #inumaki x reader #yuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader

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cindol · 1 year ago

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im not sure if this kind of AU is your thing but bear with me.

let me put my 2 cents into the discussion

popular! basketball player! keigo x shy! fem! black! reader.

just imagine how good to her he’d be, doing anything to make his shy little girlfriend blush and defending her when his friends are making fun of her status, waving at her and blowing her kisses during big games, trying and helping her style her hair in the early mornings before school.

oh lord this man got me blushing at the thought.

a/n: man…✍🏾

tw— reader has a coquette fashion style, suggestive,quirkless au,

Ugh! Just popular baskeball player!Keigo and his goodie two shoes sweet black girlfriend, polar opposites really but he still loves his shy girl no matter what. He loves making her all bashful and timid whenever his hand would touch hers while she read a marvel comic to him and how her eyes would meet his brown ones and cocky smile. When she looks away he chuckles, she’s still nervous and timid at the smallest toughest even though they’re 9 months into their relationship.”I’m your boyfriend baby, don’t ya wanna look at me?”

popular baskeball player!Keigo would never allow another person to bully or even try his shy girl. Yes, he might make little jokes but only he can do that. When one of his guys are making jokes of your clothing style or looks he’s confronting him in the locker room and making him a example to know not to fuck with his girl.

popular baskeball player!Keigo is the jealous type also. He knows his girl is beautiful despite her status, everyone knows so it garners her unwanted attention she doesn’t know how to deal with. When a random dude tries flirting with her, not taking the clue that she disinterested Keigo rolls his eyes and takes the lead to give her a long kiss in front of the man.”Take a hint man. If a sweet girls not payin’ ya any mind she doesn’t want you.”

popular baskeball player!Keigo loves when she wears those cute little pink outfits. He’s always spinning her around to see a full view of the cute white blouse, denim skirt and pink 2 pump heels making a whistle at the full 360 turn she did.”don’t know how I’m gonna fight off all these people comin’ for ya baby.” He scratches his beard looking up and down.

popular baskeball player!Keigo knows y/n can’t play sports for shit but loves making her do it anyways, it’s a part of his plan. When she clumsily shooting a basketball into a basket and nearly fall he’s always behind you to catch her making her gasp and him smirk.”my little damsel in distress huh baby?”

popular baskeball player!Keigo loves seeing you in his jersey. When you show em how it fits on your body he nearly lets out a growl at it.

When popular baskeball player!Keigo saw the cute sundress with cherries on them his shy girl was wearing in the stand as she smiled and quietly cheered him on, it motivated him. His team mates could see this game was gonna be a good one with how Keigo ran a finger through his blonde hair and mumbled under his breath saying,”this woman will be the damn death of me..”

popular baskeball player!Keigo gets so needy for y/n after the game when he wins. When she comes on the court to congratulate him he literally grabs her up giving her a million kisses on the mouth.

popular baskeball player!Keigo can’t even stop kissing you and touching on your body when he brings you home with him after the game. Something about the way you cheered for him in the stands made him feel a bit feral.

#keigo takami #keigo x y/n #hawks x black!reader #hawks x female reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #mha x black reader #mha x black female reader #mha x reader #mha x female reader #mha x you #mha x y/n

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dust-and-grave · 8 months ago

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hng, i am so frustrated by this whole watcher tv situation. i've been chewing on it ever since i watched their announcement video yesterday + i've been looking around online at other fan reactions. i'm having a lot of thoughts so i guess i want to throw my two cents in + hope it'll make me feel better to talk about it a little.

i think we all agree that creators should be paid fairly for their work; however, not all work is created equal, right? if i commission an experienced (and thus high-demand) artist to do an oil painting of my cat, they might quote me $500+ to do that + it would be fair. if an artist with substantially less experience (and thus in lower demand) spends 30 seconds on a crayon rendition of my cat, should they also received $500+ for their work? i think most people would agree that would be ridiculous.

in some ways, this is what it feels like the watcher team is doing to us right now, imo. we know that shows like ghost files or puppet history are expensive to make because travel costs (in the case of ghost files) + production costs, but we can see the effort put into the work. we feel that what we give for the show, whether that's turning off ad blocker while watching or buying show merch or supporting via patreon, is going toward making the product that we are asking for. these shows are the oil painting in the metaphor.

i don't agree with how mean + rude some people are being about steven lim rn, but frankly, his shows are the 30 second crayon drawing of the watcher channel. anyone can look at the view count on their channel + see that his shows consistently have performed worse than shane + ryan's shows. additionally, we can see that he blows huge amounts of money on his shows ("$913 seafood tower", "$1027 fried chicken") that may leave a lot of viewers feeling as if they're aren't getting as much bang for their buck.

frankly, i think people are valid for being upset that they're expected to directly foot the bill for steven's "i fly all over the world + eat expensive food while you watch" project. while youtube has a shit ton of problems (like, say, not paying their creators enough), one of the cool things about it is that you can gauge directly the amount of the interest in a project (and how many resources you should dedicate to said project) by how many eyes are on it. unfortunately for him (i guess), steven's shows just don't garner enough attention to justify the expense of making them.

which is why i see this shift to watcher tv as such a problem. this feels very much like using shane + ryan's success on the channel to force fans to fuel steven's pursuit of his glory days on worth it. it feels even more strange when they say that they're making the switch because the company isn't currently sustainable, but steven has just hired his friends from buzzfeed + continues to push his series that just don't seem to be making back the cost of production.

to be totally fair, shane + ryan don't get out of this clean either. some of their shows don't deserve to be behind a paywall either. too many spirits is filmed in ryan's parent's backyard with content submitted by their viewers. are you scared is just ryan reading creepypastas/fan submitted content on a minimal set. survival mode is just them playing games like any other streamer or gaming youtuber does. i love all of these shows, but are they on par with puppet history or ghost files? absolutely not.

this is where i think the disconnect is coming from. they're taking everything including the lower production shows to a streaming service where you have to fund them directly (rather than indirectly through ad revenue). they're forcing funding into steven's projects despite them just not doing well enough to justify the cost. they're coming across as disingenuous with their reasoning because their stated reasons for doing this don't align with their actions rn.

i feel like it would've made so much more sense to crowdfund new seasons of shows (which gives them feedback from the fans about what they want too) or put higher cost shows like ghost files or puppet history on patreon or channel membership. i would gladly fund mystery files, weird wonderful world, ghost files, puppet history, etc. with my own money, but i'm one of the ones who isn't really interested in funding steven's quest to eat all of the gold-plated kobe beef when i'll never be able to afford to eat at a restaurant that even serves it.

#rachel says #watcher #shane madej #ryan bergara #steven lim #also it really bothered me that they dangled weird wonderful world over our heads to convince people to use the streaming service #it regularly got more views than all of steven's shows save dish granted #but they never picked it up again despite that #it just adds to the sense of betrayal that a lot of us are feeling rn i think

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months ago

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Interview with the Vampire - A Vampire!Niklas Kvarforth/Reader One Shot Story.

Okay, besties! The first fic for my Vampire Soirée is here. And yeah, couldn't help myself with the title. Had to. Haha! Enjoy!

Words - 4,293

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

“I really, really don’t want to do this.”

Your editor views you from across his desk with a mildly terse smirk. “I don’t care. You’re into the more extreme music, so therefore you get to interview him. You’re the natural choice, so go out there and get the job done.”

You know his word is final, nodding and moving from the small room that reeks of cheap coffee and your boss’s pungent body odour, returning to the main floor of the offices for the rock magazine you work for, slumping back down at your desk.

“Why me?” Indeed, why you. Likely, if you weren’t quite as revelling in acrimony, you’d see that your boss gave you the task of interviewing Niklas Kvarforth because he thinks you are nothing short of capable. You’d see the compliment in there, being trusted to secure something with the musician who is famed for either being extremely engaging with his interviewer – that is, if he likes them - or an absolute fucking nightmare if he doesn’t. It’s also very much dependent upon his mood, the amount of alcohol and drugs, or the lack of medication in his system, so you’ve garnered.

You decree right there and then not to meet him backstage, while he’d likely be revelling in the merriment of after show excess.

A few days pass, your flights booked, and an email received from Shining’s management, giving you a list of criteria you must meet in order for Niklas to be willing to meet with you. At least it won’t be after a show, which makes your insides relax a little. But it will be in a bar. Eeep.

Niklas will only meet the interviewer at night.

The interviewer is requested to come alone.

The interviewer is requested not to wear any strong perfume.

The interviewer is requested not to wear any items comprising of silver.

“Is he for real?” You mutter, thinking his demands to border on slightly diva-like. No silver or strong perfume? You wonder why, but then remember who you’re interviewing. He isn’t a run of the mill kind of person by any stretch of the imagination. A return email is sent confirming you will adhere to these requests, receiving the information on the exact time and location a short while later.

‘Tell the bar staff who you are there to see, and you will be shown to a private room.’

It feels ominous, but at 9pm on the date of the interview, feeling fresh from napping after your flight, you enter the bar and indeed tell the young man who greets you who you have a meeting with.

“Come with me, he’s waiting for you.”

You are escorted through the throngs of people, the bar itself not of modern build, everything carved wood, the smell earthy and rich. The noise begins to fade as you are led through two doorways out into a long, narrow room, bench seating flanking each wall, and a very tall man seated at a table in the far corner.

There sits Niklas Kvarforth, expectant, but unmoved by your arrival.

The energy of the room seems to radiate something you cannot quite put your finger on, but it emanates from him. It feels like both luminosity and a darkened abyss all at once, his eyes sharply focused upon you, your heart beginning to thunder rapidly. You’re unsure why, when he hasn’t even made a move, nor uttered a single word.

“Niklas,” you begin, recovering yourself, the bartender leaving. “Pleased to meet you, I’m...”

“I know who you are.” Extending a large hand, he gestures across the table. “Sit.” That voice. It’s a rumble of thunder, the growl of a bear, yet no matter how deep in baritone, he uses little in the way of volume to enunciate.

Taking a seat, you retrieve your phone from your bag and set it to record, placing it down upon the table. His eyes still haven’t left you, a burning blue stare, unblinking, unflinching, twinkling in the very low light of the room. He then reaches for the wine bottle at the side of the table, pouring out a glass and sliding it across the smooth wood.

“A two thousand and eighteen Merlot,” he begins, nodding at the glass. “I’m told it is a good year.”

Picking it up, you take a sip. It very much is. “A good guess, too. I like a nice, smooth red.”

The corner of his mouth twitches a fraction. “It wasn’t a guess. Social media provides a plethora of information to those wishing to seek it.” So, he found your Instagram, then. You should have known he’d probably research you prior to your meet. “But even if I had not, I would know you drank a glass not so long ago. Perhaps not of the same quality as this, but you did imbibe.”

You cock your head curiously. “How could you know that?”

“I can smell it on you.”

Your eyebrows pinch in slight frown. “That’s one hell of a keen sense of smell.” Taking another sip, the velvety liquid slides down your through, Niklas still studying you intently. “Are you not joining me in a glass?”

“It is, and no,” he begins, lacing his fingers together upon the table. “I don’t drink... wine, any longer.”

A curious response from a man who seems very much to enjoy a drop of anything alcoholic. More than a drop, in fact. “What’s your poison now?”

His eyes flit to the side of your neck momentarily, the rest of him remaining so still, it’s a little unnerving. “I have but one vice, driven out of necessity. It cannot be said I do not enjoy that necessity, though.” So, he’s choosing to be cryptic tonight. “Yes, I am being evasive on purpose, but you knew that I would be, didn’t you?”

A slightly sinister grin begins to widen his mouth, while you sit there and wonder how on earth he can seemingly read your thoughts so well. “The human face tells of exactly what ticks through the mind. In case you wondered.”

You know what he’s doing, attempting to unnerve you a little and likely use that to his advantage. Studying his interviews of the past, you’ve witnessed him do it before. He gets inside someone’s head through either unsettling or charming them. You would be lying if you said you did not wish for him to perhaps use a little of the latter, just for fun. Video footage and photographs do not do justice to how attractive the man is in the flesh.

A professional you may be, but who doesn’t enjoy being charmed a little by a fascinating, attractive musician? Still, you opt to at least attempt in playing your cards close to your chest.

“I didn’t,” you speak, and he laughs, a small burst of sound through his nose. He sees the hand you hold. Of course, he does.

“Yes, you did. Do not lie to me. I will see it.” Leaning forward slowly, his eyes fix upon yours again, pupils widening just a touch, your throat feeling tight. “Ask me your first question.”

Swallowing, you match his unblinking stare, drawing yourself up a little taller. “If you were one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, who would you be?”

He studies you intently, almost like he didn’t hear you for a moment. “She seats herself at my table and actually asks me something interesting.” His lips curl into a small smile, his index finger tracing over a knot in the wood upon the table. “A rarity these days, to not be questioned over the same mundane things I have given answers to a hundred times before.”

You made sure not to while compiling your questions, each of which you have memorised well in advance of this night. He looks to ponder it for a few seconds, glancing away from you momentarily before his eyes snap back. “Who do you think I embody the most?”

Your reply is immediate, without hesitation. “All of them.”

“Why?”

“Your music could be constituted as a war cry, famine you’d likely thrive upon from your well-documented enjoyment of human suffering, plague is perhaps akin to how Shining’s music has spread, and death is what fascinates you.”

He cocks his head a little, his smile growing. “I like you.”

Much better than being disliked by the man, you suppose. “Any specific reason?”

“You see me,” he begins, laughing a little darkly, “or at least, as much as I allow you to.” He contemplates his next words, his eyes not leaving yours. God, the intensity of his gaze. It's about as thrilling as it is genuinely terrifying and yet, you aren't at all sure why he scares you. There is something so very inexplicable about him, his aura, the way he sits in such eerie, almost unflinching stillness. He hasn’t even blinked yet. “I get the sense you shall not bore me. I would say to death, but I am there already.”

“Your fascination, yes?”

Another rumble of laughter sounds. “A certain curiosity, you could say.” Again, he leans a fraction close across the table. “Next question. Make it good.”

“If Shining’s music began in any other era, do you think it would have had the same impact, or do you feel it transcends the zeitgeist no matter what?”

Once more, he smiles. “I definitely like you.” Picking up the bottle, he tops up your glass. “Drink your wine, and I will talk.”

Oh, and talk he does, the interview feeling less like something of structure, and more like an in-depth conversation about everything. Life, death, music, art, triumph, suffering; you cover all bases together. He fascinates you even more than you first assumed he would, too, yet there is still something about him that you cannot put your finger on, and it’s bugging you.

“You still have questions you seek an answer for.”

There he is again, seemingly peering right into your mind. “I do, yeah. It feels like something that doesn’t have a definitive question, though. Does that make sense?”

Lifting his chin, he shrugs, ever so slightly. “If you’d been paying attention, you would probably have your answer by now. I have dropped some subtle hints, here and there.”

He playing with you, but you cannot pull yourself out of the fascination, of the thirst to know what it is about him exactly that makes him so different. Yet still, you struggle to form the actual question itself.

“If I’ve missed them, why don’t you just come out and tell me?” you ask, Niklas humming amusedly, reaching out to run a fingertip down your cheek. The room might be warm, yet his skin is stone cold.

“Where would the fun be in that?” Yep. He’s definitely playing with you for his own levity. It annoys you too, that you actually enjoy it. “Would you like for me to show you, the answer to the question you are yet to ask?”

You nod, swallowing hard, wondering what it is you’ll be shown. “How?”

“Meet me at the front of the bar.”

It’s close to closing time anyway, so with your curiosity piqued, you finish your wine and pick up your phone, turning the recording off. Placing it in your bag, you smile, turning to leave the room, moving back through the bar. Struggling to get past the group of people milling around the entrance, you finally push through, swinging the door open and there on the other side, seeing Niklas waiting for you.

How did he...

“Hello, again.”

“How on earth did you get past me?” you frown. Even if he’d left via a back exit to the bar, you would have noticed him walking the length of the building, with its floor to ceiling windows bordering it, in order to reach the front before you.

“I move very quickly.”

You raise an eyebrow. “It’s... it isn’t possible, for you to have reached the front before I did. I would have noticed you. You’d need to move within the blink of an eye!”

He chuckles at your shrill tone. “Indeed, I would.”

You’re caught in his gaze again, shaking your head, your heart starting to hammer. Blinking rapidly, you gasp when suddenly, he’s vanished right before your eyes. A finger taps your shoulder.

“Hello, again.”

Spinning, you almost die of fright to see him behind you, your throat constricting. “Wh-what the fuck did you put in-in my dr-drink?” you stammer, perplexed to know what drug he’s obviously laced the wine with, making you hallucinate to this magnitude.

His eyes narrow, lifting his chin. “Nothing. You can trust what you see.”

“But, but,” you begin, pointing at him. “People cannot move that quickly.”

“Correct. Humans cannot, but I ceased being human a while ago.” He waits, watching as you try and piece it all together.

He requested you meet him at night only.

No silver jewellery.

Sharp sense of smell, hence now why you realise he insisted you not wear strong perfume.

He didn’t drink. Anything.

“I have but one vice, driven out of necessity.”

“I get the sense you shall not bore me. I would say to death, but I am there already.”

And he moves faster than your eye can detect. He cannot be, though! What your brain is suggesting, it isn’t feasible. It isn’t possible! It’s folklore, mere stories, because you cannot, you just can’t be standing right there in front of a vampire.

“I see the pieces have clicked into place. Finally,” he drawls, smirking a little. “Or do I need to give you exactly what you want to see?”

“I... I...” you breathe, your mouth dropping open.

He rolls his eyes, a little twitch of his top lip preceding two long, sharp fangs to pop out from his gums, a sight that makes you squeak as you clasp your hand over your mouth. “There. Convinced now?”

“Oh my... oh... fuck.” You should be terrified, and truly there is a slither of fear slicing right through your insides, but it’s overrode by a wash of curiosity, of wonder. There you are, standing in front of a real-life creature of the night.

You did wonder why Shining ceased playing at festivals in the daytime suddenly a few years before. Now you have your answer.

“I...” you begin, reaching towards his mouth. “Can I touch them? How sharp are they?”

It isn’t the reaction he was expecting, but your sheer wonder does amuse him on some level. “Feel for yourself.”

Your index finger prods against one of those pointed teeth, your skin broken immediately. It didn’t hurt, but it took you by enough surprise to pull your hand away, Niklas grasping your wrist and sucking your finger into his mouth.

“That Merlot tastes very good in your blood,” he speaks, finally releasing your finger from between his lips, eyeing you with radiating intent as you feel your body prickle with goosepimples, your nipples standing hard. All from having your fingertip in his mouth. Wow. “It’s making me hungry.” keeping hold of your hand, he moves his mouth to your wrist, tongue circling, pressing a kiss against where your pulse flutters madly. “May I?”

“You don’t strike me as the type to ask,” you quip, your body beginning to tremble, especially when he places a second kiss to your inner wrist.

“Although I love hunting down humans, scared blood tastes bitter. A willing donor is much more palatable.”

Nodding dumbly, the consent falls from your mouth before you’ve even processed it properly. “Okay, yes you can.”

Keeping hold of your hand, his other arm slides around you. “Not here.” His grip tightens and before you know it, he’s moved you within the blink of an eye to the alleyway that borders two buildings opposite the bar. Once again, he lifts your wrist to his mouth, the glint of his eyes like pale sapphires shining at you through the dark, another kiss placed before the burn of fangs pierces your flesh. It hurts, but god, the glimmers it drives through you, his mouth locked onto the wound strongly, sucking back your blood with a groan of pleasure.

Your insides virtually turn themselves inside out, hearing that.

Biting onto his own lip, he presses a bloodied kiss against the two puncture wounds in your wrist, the miraculous feeling of the wound closing making you feel completely spellbound as his blood heals you, his tongue working languidly over your flesh to lick it clean.

He licks his crimson lips, leaning down to you. “Thank you.”

You blink, and he’s gone, leaving you there breathless, perhaps even a touch deflated. He abandons you to the night, heart hammering, feeling awestruck, and that’s it? He’s just gone into the dark? He truly owes you nothing more, though. No explanation, no goodbye. Your interview was concluded, everything needed for your article to be written, leaving you only to steady yourself and call an Uber to return to your hotel.

It bothers you every single moment of the ride back there, all the questions you could have asked him, like when exactly he was made vampire, why he chose that, whether or not anybody else knows, and so, so much more. It also incenses you because of the burning ache deep within that his feeding on you left, yet to abate.

Do vampires still even have sex? Can they? They’re dead, so is desire still even a driving force within them, beyond that to feed?

All these questions and no big, handsome vampire there to answer them. Damn him.

Back at your hotel, you strip to your underwear, removing your makeup and cleaning your teeth before crawling beneath the covers. The bed linen is soft and crisply laundered, welcoming your body as you lie down and check your messages before turning off the bedside lamp. Sleep, as you soon discover, is a futile wish in light of what you now know, your brain buzzing, your body still humming from it all.

From him.

God, the way you felt as he fed upon you. It makes your nipples tighten just to remember it, your hands beginning to wander, knowing that unless you do something to sate the desire he stirred within you, you shall remain restless for the remainder of the night. With each sweeping caress, you imagine it is his cool hands exploring you, your arousal amping sharply, closing your eyes and seeing him there, imagining what it is to be pinned beneath him.

One hand clamps at your breast, the other wandering between your legs, slick anticipation waiting as you begin to stroke the petals of your sex with a soft moan, knowing the thoughts of him there with you in the bed will act as a suitably torrid fantasy for a time to come. Oh, if only... if only.

Tap, tap, tap.

Mildly annoyed by the disturbance, you frown towards the door, wondering why the hell you’re being disturbed at gone midnight, ignoring it at first. Your fingers continue their rhythmic stroking, your arousal once again blooming, sighing into the dark as you hope whoever is on the other side of the door simply has the wrong room.

Tap, tap, tap. This time louder than before.

Flinging the covers back, you huff, striding towards the door with a frown pinching your brows, looking through the small spy hole. Your heart almost crashes out of your chest, opening the door immediately, the tall form of the vampire who left you burning in your frustration looming over you as he steps inside the room.

“What are you doing here?”

He leans to you, two fingers running along either side of your jaw, tilting your head back. “Answering your call.”

“But I didn’t call you?” you speak, feeling like his presence is sucking the air from your lungs, the energy coming from him radiating with dark, swirling lust.

“No, you didn’t.” He leans to you, lips pressing a kiss against your neck, setting your blood to burn with the need for him, his hands grasping your bra to tear it open. “But your body did.” He lifts you with ease, and you wrap your legs around him, clutching his face in your hands as you lean, offering your mouth to his.

And fuck. The way he kisses you? He might be dead, but you feel like you’ve just been smacked in the chest with a live wire.

His mouth rains cold heat over you, placed upon the bed, Niklas looking down at you for a moment while his hands smooth over your skin. A sudden flurry of rapid movement renders him naked, your underwear torn from you, his hands parting your thighs to settle himself between them. You shiver at the feel of cold skin pressing against your warmth, your hands trailing over the dark blonde hair smattered over his wide, tattooed chest, his hand grasping your jaw to tip your head back, mouth closing in a kiss that evokes nothing but heat.

The sound he makes while delighting your throat with such attention is all beast, a primal, rattling growl, eerie and inhuman. You know you should be unsettled, fear the fact that you have what you now understand to be the greatest apex predator on earth between your legs, but oh, no. Fear is the furthest thing you experience beneath him, desire cording through you as his mouth scatters kisses steeped in blinding sensuality over every inch of your body, descending, tongue running up your thigh as he stares up at you.

His eyes close, long, dark blonde lashes concealing the blue fire within, mouth reaching your aching slit finally, his tongue diving in with hunger. The flush of pleasure is immediate, evoked by long, dragging licks, his groans still gravelled in predatory grit. The tip of his tongue seeks your clit, flicking gently to begin, sucking, taking the contact away to make you keen, returning it with a driving beat that sends embers skittering up your spine.

He consumes you carnivorously, nothing gentle about the way his mouth rains utter ruin upon you, your back arched like the bend in a riverbank as you gasp and cry out. The way he moves his tongue against your bud is unlike anything you’ve ever felt, quickening, until it moves at an unnatural speed; for a human, at least. He isn’t one, though.

“Oh shit, oh!” you wail, clutching his head, your nails digging in. “Fuck, that’s incredible! How the fuck can you move your tongue so fucking quickly?”

He rumbles an amused chuckle, sucking on you again. “You’ve seen how fast I move. That extends to all of me.” More rapid flickers follow, speedy, wet heat driving you to the place of complete nirvana, coming hard as the dew of your orgasm floods his tongue.

You’re suddenly moved, faster than you can comprehend, finding yourself astride him, Niklas steering his cock to your streaming cunt, a hand clutching your neck as he pulls you down onto it, every last inch slipping in with ease. “And if you think the way I ate you was quick, just wait until you see the speed I’m going to bounce you on my cock.”

One hand remains upon your neck, the other splayed on your back as he clasps you to him tightly, moving steadily to begin with, staring at you with burning desire, his fangs shooting out as he groans, all hellfire and sin. “Fuck, you feel good, little human.”

He kisses you, your lips and tongue scratched by the sharp of his teeth, kisses all burning sanguine and dark lust, his growl making your skin prickle with goosepimples. The rolling rhythm of it sends lightning darting up your spine, his mouth moving to your throat, kisses pressed, the accompanying graze of fangs making your nipples furl tight, the pain of him suddenly biting into your neck sending a neon blaze to glimmer through the very blood he drinks upon thirstily.

Oh, how scintillating the pleasure, to be fucked and fed upon by the predator between your legs at the same time, his body beginning to move up beneath you rapidly, both arms clasping around you, the grip strong, his mouth licking the blood trails left behind as you cry out at every deep, quick punch of his thick cock.

He literally throws you around the room thereafter, holding you by your throat to the bed, fucking you so quickly, you feel he’s about to go through you, moving you in a blink until you’re backed against a wall, clutching around him as he drives into you like a piston.

How it is to fuck a creature who doesn’t get tired.

It’s an inferno of celestial bonfire each time he makes you come for him, your body sweaty, blood streaked and exhausted by the time he finally forces his cock into your mouth, a cold jet of cum trickling down your throat.

You’re still floating far from yourself when you see him move rapidly, dressed once more in a blink, Niklas winking before in the next second, he’s vanished.

At least he left you nothing short of satisfied this time.

Upon checking out the following morning, the woman at the front desk hands an envelope to you, once which you wait until you’re in the Uber heading to the airport to read.

It should go without saying that you do not breathe a word over what I am to anyone. If you do, the next time I fuck you, you shan’t survive it.

I’d like you to survive it.

Yes. That part of your night with him definitely won’t be going to print, lest you never experience it again.

A/N - Did you enjoy it? Please be sure to let me know what you thought and give me a reblog. It goes a long way, guys!

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining #shining band #ddd vampire soire #black metal

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misslavenderlady · 1 year ago

Text

Sunkissed ☀️

Michael/Female!Reader

Summary: Michael gets a summer job as a pool boy, and you have the pleasure of watching him work up close and personal. He's not a fan of your spoiled behavior, but he's got his ways to sweeten you up~

This is a collab I did with @britany1997 based on a poll I did about a pool boy fic idea. We put equal work into this so show some love by liking and reblogging both of our posts! Seriously, she's the sweetest. She deserves the love 😍

WARNINGS: N.s.f.w./Smut/18+ Readers Only, spoiledrichbrat!reader, teasing, flirting, brat taming, soft dom, praise kink, d/s, sunblock massage, undressing, nippleplay, semipublic sex, thigh fucking/intercrural sex, cum marking, aftercare

credit to @bloodsoakedtooth and @tvneon for the gifs!

Working during the summertime wasn't something that bothered Michael. He wasn't really the type of guy to waste the days sleeping in or going to bonfire parties. There was an itch within him to keep moving, get some work done, tackle some chores or pick up an odd job. He simply couldn't keep still for long.

So in between his beach cleaning gig, he managed to find some clients who would pay him as a pool cleaner. People in Santa Carla who had their own private pools were quite generous with money, and that certainly motivated Michael to take on the jobs.

Being that he was an incredibly handsome young man with a hardworking, polite personality, he gained quite a bit of popularity amongst the ladies of Santa Carla. He paid them no mind though. He just wanted to get his work done.

Your parents had hired him to take care of the pool while they were in Aruba for the summer. Though he couldn’t deny that the vision of your bikini-clad, sunbathing form was a beautiful sight, he’d figured you’d be no different from any of the other girls that threw themselves at him.

He looked over subtly to see your nimble fingers flipping through the pages of Cosmopolitan while sipping a smoothie. He rolled his eyes to himself. Yeah, you weren’t any different. Michael unclipped his sunglasses from his shirt and slid them on before taking out a net to skim leaves and debris off the surface of the pool.

Little did Michael know that your eyes weren't on the magazine in your hands. Hidden behind your designer sunglasses, your gaze was right on the handsome guy. You used to think that girls crushing on pool boys was a laughable cliche. After all, your family has previously hired the most dimwitted guys who half-assed their work. Such a turn-off.

But Michael wasn't like that at all. He was actually a hard worker and put some real muscle into the tasks he was given. And he looked DAMN good doing it.

That perfect, glowing skin, those strong arms, and those eyes that were bluer than the water in the pool. You had a big, fat crush on the guy, and you were going to milk this for all it was worth.

"Hey Mikey!" you called out to him in between sips of your drink. "You missed a spot by the steps!"

A nonexistent spot that was chosen in an area where you could get a better view of his back muscles, of course.

Michael cringed at the nickname, but still headed over to clean the imaginary grime from the spot to humor you.

Your lips turned up into a satisfied smile as you watched his muscles ripple. You sucked down the last of your smoothie as you imagined what it would be like to suck on something else.

As Michael finished amusing you, the sound of your fingers snapping garnered his attention. He watched as a suit-clad man rushed towards you so that you could set your empty smoothie glass on his silver tray.

“Strawberry banana this time,” you ordered the man, “and no chunks, you know I hate that.” Your nose crinkled in disgust at the thought of a non-smooth smoothie.

Michael quirked an eyebrow, watching your little display while cleaning the sediment from the pool walls.

"You know, it's already unfair enough that he has to wait on you like you're a little princess. Do you really have to make him do it in that monkey suit?" Michael quipped.

Your pretty, red lips pulled up into a smirk. You angled your sunglasses downward to watch him more carefully.

"I'm not the one who assigned the uniform, honey. But by all means, don't feel pressured to do the same. You can wear whatever you want around here~"

All you could think about was getting him from a bathing suit to a birthday suit. You’d spent many days by the pool imagining that hunk finally showing you all of what he was blessed with. You had to find a good way to thank your parents for hiring him.

Michael pursed his lips, but before he could reply, your butler returned with your smoothie.

You took the cup from the tray, wrapping your full lips around the pink, swirly straw and sucking a bit to make sure it was to your liking, smiling as the flavors hit your tongue.

“Thanks, Jeeves, that’s all for now,” you dismissed him with a flick of your wrist.

The man gave a little bow before heading back into the house, you presumed to go and dust some of your mother’s beloved antiques.

Michael shook his head. “Is that even his name?” he asked.

“Dunno,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders, “not my job to know it.”

Michael crossed his arms over his chest. You pouted as your view was obscured.

“You’re a real spoiled brat you know?”

Your jaw dropped at his boldness, but you quickly regained your composure. “Didn’t know you had that in ya Mikey,” you teased. “Whatcha gonna do about it, spank me?”

The Emerson boy was no dummy. He knew exactly what you were trying to do. You liked playing around with boy toys without any consequences. Well, that would never fly in everyday life. All the struggle and humbleness his family experienced helped him realize that.

He was going to make certain you learned a lesson about the real world.

Michael let the net fall from his hand, the cleaning device splashing loudly into the water below. Curiosity rose within you as he stepped closer to your spot. Soon enough Michael was hovering over you, seeing you down while he slipped his glasses down and gazed at you with those piercing baby blues.

"No. You're gonna apologize for being a little brat."

You nearly choked on that last sip of smoothie you had. Your head was spinning at that statement.

"Excuse me?? Who the fuck do you think you're talking t-"

"Stop that!"

Your words were cut down with a mere raise of his voice. To your own surprise, you felt yourself tremble beneath him. Between his height over you and the booming sound of his words, you were suddenly feeling quite small compared to him.

"Bad girls don't get what they want. Only good girls do. So," Michael began. In one swift motion, he grabbed the glass in your hand and effortlessly plucked it out of your grasp. "you're gonna be a good little lady and apologize for your behavior. It's the only way you're getting this back."

You sat up on your lawn chair in shock. Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened, then closed again. It felt like one of those novelty-singing fish your dad had hanging over the fireplace at your winter chalet.

While you didn’t want to give in, you also wanted your smoothie back…and despite yourself, Michael kind of made you want to be a good girl. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Michael scoffed and leaned forward. “What was that?” he teased.

You huffed at him. “I said, I’m sorry… Michael, I’m very sorry.”

He smiled and handed you your cup. “Good girl, I knew you could do it,” he leaned forward to kiss your cheek and pat your head softly.

You gasped as your cheeks turned bright pink at his touch.

If Michael had noticed your embarrassment, he didn’t let on. When he pulled away from your cheek, he picked up his net as if nothing had happened and returned to his work.

You laid back in shock, that was not how you’d expected the day to go. Your blush deepened as you realized your bikini bottoms had dampened and not from the pool water. You liked being Michael’s good girl.

Lost in your own thoughts, you missed Michael’s smirking face as he shot you subtle glances. He could tell you’d never had anyone tell you what to do your entire life. He’d enjoy being the first. Hmm, maybe you were different.

Although your mind was swimming with confusion and flirtatious thoughts of Michael, you still had enough focus to go about your routine. Every day the sun was out you got some tanning done before doing laps in the pool. By the time Michael was finished, it would be perfect for your swim.

Until then, you were going to get that gorgeous summer glow that would be the envy of all your other rich friends.

With a deep breath and a shake of your head, you reached under your chair to grab hold of the trusty bottle of tanning oil you preferred. You gave it a hefty shake before holding out your palm to take some in.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Michael's voice stopped you in your tracks. If the smoothie stealing hadn't shocked you before, this certainly did.

"What??"

The curly-haired boy tsked while shaking his head in sheer disappointment. He crossed his arms over his strong chest as he eyed you once again.

"You're going to get skin cancer with the stuff. You better put on sunblock or you're gonna turn into a raisin, little lady."

You pouted and whimpered without even thinking, the pink tinge returning to your cheeks. “But I don’t have any sunblock,” you admitted.

Michael sighed overdramatically, “what am I gonna do with you?” he lightly scolded before running to his bag.

“We can share mine,” he told you. “Lay down for me.”

You scrambled to do as he asked, laying out on your stomach on the lawn chair. Though you couldn’t see him from your position, his lips were curled up at your obedience. You were a quick learner.

“That’s my good girl,” he purred as his hands skimmed the small of your back teasingly.

You could only bury your face deep against the chair so he wouldn't catch the deeper shade of blush on your face. He was already making you feel so flustered, yet his fingers were only touching a small part of you.

"Better get rid of this so I don't make a mess."

Before you could even think to ask what he meant, your ears were greeted by the sound of fabric being scrunched before something was tossed to the side of your lounge chair. A tiny squeak fell from your lips as you caught sight of Michael's shirt on the ground.

There was no way this was happening. Your pool boy was going to rub sunblock on you while half-naked. The more you thought about it, the wetter your bikini bottoms got.

"Gotta get a good, thick layer of this on ya, okay?" Michael spoke, slathering the cream onto his palm. He rubbed his hands together to warm it up some. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle."

“You don’t have to be…” you whispered to yourself more than anyone, but he smirked all the same.

Michael began to knead the sunscreen into your shoulders and back softly. He was almost as good as your massage therapist. You made a mental note to offer him that position when his pool cleaning gig was up. You wanted to keep him around for as long as possible, no matter what.

When Michael finished with your upper half, he moved to your legs, running his fingers up and down your calves, coating your skin. As his hands began to drag up your thighs, you felt yourself grow warmer and it wasn’t from the sun. It took everything in you not to moan at his gentle caresses.

You knew Michael’s hands were likely calloused from all the hard work he did, but his feather-light touches felt so soft. His fingers skimmed the hem of your bikini bottoms as he continued to rub the sunscreen into your skin. Though you hadn’t thought it was possible, you could feel your face burn even hotter.

You moved to flip onto your back, but Michael splayed a hand on your back, keeping you pressed into the chair. “Be good and still for me. Okay, honey?”

God, he really was a dream. The way Michael was on top of you and giving orders was driving you wild. You couldn't stop yourself from nibbling just a bit on your bottom lip.

"O-Okay," you stuttered. When he decided he was ready, he flipped you onto your back, causing a gasp to leave your lips. You didn’t dare to say anything, you still wanted to be his good girl.

The way the rays of the sun shined down on his sculpted body looked too perfect. Your eyes watched carefully as he spread another coat of sunblock onto his hands. He started with your stomach, massaging the area as he had done with your back. Once again, the lulling comfort of relaxation fell over you thanks to his touch.

You didn't have a worry or care being like this with Michael. He was so firm, yet so gentle with you. Now that he could see your face, that was far more clear to him.

The moment of peace was only interrupted when Michael took hold of your thighs.

"Wh-What're yo-"

"Shh shhhh, don't be scared, honey," Michael cooed, his soft words contrasting with how he threw your ankles onto his shoulder. "I gotta get all of those special spots on your skin~"

You followed Michael's orders and kept still and silent. While you were internally freaking out, he was casually rubbing sunblock along the length of your perfect legs. He pushed himself closer to you, his hips grazing the special spot where your bikini bottoms were.

When he finished with your legs, he leaned over you, his brown curls falling around his face like a halo.

He moved even closer, the curve of your ass rested on his thighs while your legs were still slung over his shoulder. You opened your mouth to speak but he shushed you.

Michael glanced down at your right hand, resting by the side of your head, and moved to lace his fingers with yours. Your heart warmed at the feeling of your hands pressed together. There was something so sweet and intimate about how he held your hand.

His other hand fiddled with your bikini top, pulling gently at the strings. “Now that I’ve done your back…” he traced a finger over your collarbone, “do you want me to do your front?”

You almost couldn't believe this was happening. Not too long ago Michael was rolling his eyes at you while scooping leaves out of your pool. Now he was offering to strip you down and get extra handsy with the sunblock.

All those times you acted like a spoiled princess seemed so stupid now. Why would you keep misbehaving when you could give in and let Michael treat you like a good girl? Like HIS good girl.

"Yes, Michael," you whispered.

With his striking baby blues focused on you, he pulled the string of your top. The fabric slipped off with ease, revealing your breasts to him. Even with just a glance at your body, you could see the hazed look of lust take over on his face. It made your skin burn hotter than ever.

"Perky little thing, aren't you?" He cooed. His fingers glided down your chest and over the nipples presented before him. The heat of his body contrasted with the coldness of the lotion, toying with your sensitive spots quite a bit.

If that didn't make you whimper with lust, the feeling of his erection poking your thigh certainly did.

You shouldn't have been surprised, given he was a hot-blooded man enjoying a shirtless lady underneath him. Then again, you were more than happy to find out he had an impressive size. You couldn’t remember the last time you enjoyed yourself with a guy.

“Hmm,” Michael hummed, faking concern.

“What is it?” you asked with a pout, worried you’d done something wrong.

“The sunscreen, it’s not gonna stay on here,” he said as his fingers skimmed over your nipples once more. “Too wet.”

“What?” your brow furrowed in confusion, “How are they-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence when Michael’s mouth sealed around your breast. You gasped and arched your back into his mouth, loving the feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple. The hand that wasn’t clasping his found its place in his perfect brown curls. When he’d finished toying with you he pulled back.

“See? Way too wet,” he told you with a wink. You could only mutter a flustered ‘mhmm’ in response.

Not wanting to keep you waiting, Michael dove right back in, continuing his work with your other nipple. He let out a soft groan around the flesh, clearly aroused by how you felt in his mouth. Instead of swirling his tongue again, he sucked gently, stimulating you quite a bit.

"Ooooh god~" you sighed. The grip of your fingers in his hair grew tighter as your arousal got stronger. You were dripping wet for Michael at this point. Your brain was completely clouded while your body took in all of the pleasure.

"You taste so good, honey. Makes me want you even more than I already do."

Now you were REALLY hot and bothered. Michael's voice sounded so husky and hungry to you. The more he toyed with you, the stronger your need for him got.

"Michael," you whimpered out.

"Hmm? What's going on, honey?" he smirked, playing dumb with you. It only made you even whinier.

"I need more! Please….please don't tease me…."

Michael laughed softly to himself. He dragged a finger down your abdomen, making your stomach muscles clench. “You wanna feel me in here?” he stroked his finger over your clothed pussy lightly.

You had never had to beg for anything in your life, and Michael could tell. Tears started to well in your eyes and your lip popped out as you nodded.

He pretended to consider your request, “I don’t know honey, do you think you’ve earned it?”

Now the tears had started to roll down your cheeks as you knew the answer to that question, maybe you could convince him otherwise?

“Yes…yes Michael I’ve earned it,” you swore.

Michael sighed. “You were mean to your butler, you teased me…doesn’t sound like good girl behavior to me.”

“But- but I apologized! And I was so good just now! I- please Michael,” you begged for the second time in your life.

“Don’t talk back baby,” Michael scolded and your lips immediately clamped shut. “Still,” he considered, “you have a point, I guess you have tried to be good for me today…maybe I can give you something.”

You would have done anything for him. “Thank you, Michael! I’ll be so good, I promise!”

“Yeah? You gonna be good and take what you’re given,” he smirked.

“Yes! Yes, Michael! Whatever you want.”

He loved the sound of that. Even if Michael was acting stern with you, he was still a very giving and kind lover. He wouldn't let your pleading fall on deaf ears.

His hands moved gracefully, taking hold of each side of your bikini. You softly mewled from the sensation of a nearby breeze on your exposed bottom half once the last piece of clothing was discarded. Michael was left positively ravenous at the sight of such a wet, glistening pussy.

"Holy shit," he sighed, running his tongue over his lips. "God, I gotta show you what you're doing to me, baby."

It didn't take long for you to figure out what that meant. Far less gentle with himself than with you, Michael practically tore off his swim trunks. In mere seconds, his cock sprang out, thick and twitching with arousal.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes shimmered at such a sight. He was so impressive.

"Oooh my~" you said. "How'd you hide a big thing like that all this time?"

"I dunno. But I guess I can't help how it shows when I got you under me, honey~"

Michael took hold of your thighs again, gently touching them as he pushed his body close to you. Your perfect breasts pushed up against his toned chest while he pressed his forehead against yours. You could smell the gum on his breath and it made you feel positively desperate to kiss him.

"Listen closely," Michael whispered to you. "If you want to stop at any time, please don't be afraid to say so. I'll take care of you, but I need to keep you safe. Do you understand?"

Your heart raced from his words. Even when he was teasing, he was still so sweet with you. Michael sure beat all the arrogant trust fund assholes you’d messed around with in the past. He was a special guy.

“I understand, and I’ll tell you if I need to stop,” you promised.

Michael smiled down at you, “That’s my good girl,” he cupped your cheek before his hands gripped your thighs once more.

You bit your lip, “Michael?”

“Mhmm,” he stopped what he was doing and met your gaze. His lips pulled up into a smile at your blushing face.

“Can I have a kiss before you start? Please?” you asked.

Michael’s smile grew even wider at such a cute request. He was proud of himself for seemingly taming you into his perfect, good girl in less than a day. “Since you asked so nicely…”

He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose before beginning to grind against your thighs softly. You gasped at the friction, he was barely touching you and you already felt like you could come apart on your lawn chair.

Before you could whine for a proper kiss, Michael ceased any teasing and went right in. His lips were perfect in every way. Warm, soft, and fit so well with your own. Never before had a boy made you positively melt from just a first kiss.

But Michael wasn't going to stop the passion there. He was a romantic at heart and wanted to keep you happy. With one hand caressing your cheek and the other grazing over one of your legs, he moved his body with yours some more.

"My good girl~" he groaned. The tip of his cock was pushed past your thighs, so achingly close to your cunt. He let each inch of his length through as well. The two of you each let out a moan as his cock brushed over your pussy lips, getting soaked with just a small touch.

"Keep your legs nice and tight for me, okay? I'm gonna fuck your pretty thighs like this~"

You nodded furiously and whimpered at his words. He smiled down at you. “You’re so cute like this, such a pretty girl for me.”

You beamed at his praise as you clenched your thighs tightly around him. His head fell to the crook of your neck and he moaned as you squeezed him. Your arms immediately gripped the lawn chair as your body felt overcome by the feeling of his cock brushing up against you.

“Do you hear how good you’re making me feel, baby?” he asked. “You’re being such an angel right now, holding me so tight. That’s my girl.”

You sighed blissfully, ‘his girl.’ He had you wrapped around his finger and you didn’t even care.

Michael rolled his hips into your thighs at a slow and steady rhythm, occasionally brushing against your pussy and making you see stars.

"Mmmh! M-Michael~" you sighed out for him. You hadn't expected this to feel so amazing. He didn't even need to penetrate you to get your body going. The way his cock pushed against your thighs and clit was just so perfect. Even if you couldn't have more, you still loved what it was now.

"Pretty little princess, arentcha~?" he cooed in your ear. Michael grabbed your hips tighter and thrust his hips at a faster pace. He tugged you upward a bit, letting your lower half lift from the chair.

He brought his mouth to yours again, kissing you deeply while he fucked you. The precum dripping from the tip of his cock made your thighs and pussy so very slippery. He just made you so warm all over, and you didn't want it to stop for even a moment.

You wanted to touch him so badly, to wrap your fingers in his brown curls and pull, or to grip his toned shoulders as he fucked you, not so gently. But you knew better than to do anything without permission.

You managed to let out a breathy, “Michael…” between whimpers and moans. “Mhmm?” his tone has an almost condescending tinge to it, but you didn’t care. Maybe you didn’t mind being put in your place a little.

“Let me touch you? Please?” you begged.

Michael’s lips parted in shock. He had to hold back a snide remark about how the brat had already been fucked out of you, and he wasn’t even in you. Oh, but you were so vulnerable like this with your eyes glassed over and your supple lips pressed into the prettiest pout. Michael was a lot of things, but he wasn’t cruel.

He smirked down at you, not letting up from his pace, but moving closer to your clit with each thrust, a little reward for asking for what you wanted. “Where do you wanna touch me honey?”

He shifted his weight to support himself with one hand, while he grasped your hand sweetly with the other.

"I won't lie, I've been wanting to touch this body of yours all summer," you admitted.

Michael seemed to enjoy that statement quite a bit. He was a humble guy, but it was still nice to get his ego fluffed up a bit with compliments.

"Then, by all means, enjoy yourself~"

He kept up the motions of his rocking while he allowed you to do as you wished with his body. Your manicured fingers traced over the dips and curves of his muscles. You couldn't help but squeeze his pecs and abs. It turned you on seeing someone so perfectly sculpted and toned above your writhing body.

There was no hiding the fact that he felt the same way about you. Even when you were acting like a spoiled brat, you were a very SEXY spoiled brat. One with a gorgeous figure to caress and cherish as he pleased

His heart swelled with pride as you touched him softly, your eyes always searching his face to ensure you weren’t taking too much or being too greedy.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You’re being so good for me, sweetheart. Think you deserve a reward~”

You gasped as his thumb brushed across your clit. You could have cum right then and there. He began to move his thumb in soft circles, pulling gasps and moans from your perfect lips. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

“Love how you touch me, baby,” Michael purred into your ear, “Needed to return the favor.”

You whimpered beneath him, totally intoxicated by the pleasure he was giving you. “I’m close,” you admitted, blushing.

He sighed happily, your words music to his ears. “Then be a good girl and cum for me ok?” Michael patronized, feeling how much you enjoyed his tone.

God, there was no holding back when he talked to you like that. The jolts of pleasure were rushing through your body, charging you up like electricity. With your hand gripping him tightly and your legs locking more firmly, you felt yourself get closer and closer with every second.

Michael wasn't far behind you. It was quite easy to catch up with how much you had stimulated him. He grunted and moaned as he fucked your thighs and toyed with your clit at a faster pace. He was dying to see that beautiful face make an expression of truly amazing pleasure.

"FUCK!! Fuck, Michael!!! Yes!! Aaah~" you cried out. Your voice echoed out into the California air as the orgasm hit your body with full force. If Michael's cock and fingers weren't soaked already, they certainly were now.

The sound of your pleasured screams triggered his own release mere moments later. Thick, white shots of cum splashed onto your soft thighs and stomach, properly marking you as Michael's girl.

He stared down at you and smiled to himself, God you were a pretty sight. He bent down from his arms to his elbows and laid on your chest, arms wrapping around you in a sweet embrace. Now you were covered with him in more ways than one.

Instinctively, your arms snaked around him and your fingers began to draw circles on his back. Michael smiled softly, enjoying the lovely sensation as he pressed wet kisses on your cheeks, your jawline, and your neck.

“You with me baby?” he asked as he tucked sweaty strands of hair behind your ear.

You sighed happily, “Yeah.” Your cheeks were a pretty shade of pink as you smiled at him. “I like when you call me baby.”

He laughed softly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

You nodded enthusiastically.

“I like when you call me Mikey.”

You could have melted right there.

Michael grinned as he began to push up from the chair, but your sudden, tight grip on his waist stopped him. He looked down at your pitiful pout.

“Gotta clean you up sweet girl,” he said as he stroked your cheek.

“Later, I promise,” you bargained. “For now can you just…hold me?”

His lips pulled up into a bright smile before he settled on top of you, laying his head on your chest. “For as long as you want, baby.”

Your mom and dad may have been in Aruba, but you were in heaven.

Tag List: @bloodywickedvamp @vampirefilmlover @auntvamp @ghoulgeousimmaculate @michael-after-hours @legal-lost-boy @silvermaplealder @6lostgirl6 @crustyboypix @oceansrose2002 @piratesangel @kurt-nightcrawler @velluvette

#the lost boys #tlb #michael emerson x reader #michael emerson #female reader #nsft #smut #writing collab

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yuzurujenn · 1 month ago

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[2024.11.25] Weekly Toyo Keizai Nov issue: Yuzuru Hanyu: An evolving entertainer

The world's most famous figure skater is now on the verge of further evolution. Ahead of the opening of his latest tour, "Echoes of Life," on December 7, he shares his thoughts on being a "professional" and the influence he holds.

Text Mai Yamamoto Design: Satoko Suzuki, Kanaka Nakamura Photography: Shuji Umetani Cooperation: WINEstudios

Yuzuru Hanyu achieved back-to-back Olympic victories in Sochi 2014 and Pyeongchang 2018. He was the youngest individual recipient of the People's Honor Award. At the Beijing Olympics in 2022, he attempted his dream of a quadruple axel jump, attracting worldwide attention. Yuzuru Hanyu is a rare figure skater. His popularity remains immense. Tickets for his shows remain hard to come by, regardless of the venue, and his performances attract fans from all over Japan and the world. His long-term commitment to disaster relief has garnered widespread support, creating a large circle of aid centred around him. After transitioning to professional skating in the summer of 2022, he has focused on expanding his figure skating. He is creating new entertainment that expresses his own stories through large-scale productions such as video and on-ice projection mapping. What is Yuzuru Hanyu trying to achieve? An exclusive interview delves into what happens when he takes action, including insights from related companies and local governments. Special interview

After turning professional, he held solo shows and solo tours, which were previously unimaginable in the traditional figure skating world. He created a unique show format called "Ice Story." He is also now exploring new ways of connecting with his fan community. What is the young entertainer thinking in the midst of such transformative times?

--What was the reason for the success of all your solo shows "Prologue," "GIFT," and "RE_PRAY"?

Honestly, it's hard to define what "success" means in this world. However, one thing I can proudly say is that tickets for all the shows were almost sold out. Many people bought tickets to see me skate. Ticket sales are an important indicator, and I want to maintain the perspective that "almost sold out = almost successful." When I think about the factors behind the success, it's not just my own ability, but something much bigger. How can we make the show better and what is most needed? Everyone involved in the show put in a lot of effort and thought. I think the success came as a result of that.

--In your first solo show "Prologue," you performed 8 programs in each show, mostly from your competitive skating repertoire.

Although not all the performances were full versions, "Prologue" was a show with many parts that I had to manage with my own strength and technique. The Tokyo Dome performance "GIFT" was coming up in few months, so I approached this show with the mindset that I was going to shape my solo show from now on.

The production and management team also took a trial-and-error approach to this new challenge. I didn't consider "Prologue" as an "experiment" but instead wanted to succeed as a complete piece of work. However, it was significant that this show helped us all share the image of a solo show as a team.

The next show, "GIFT," was a one-time performance. How do we showcase a skater in the vast Tokyo Dome? How could figure skating as an expressive art be expanded? It was an unknown challenge for all of us.

The challenges and appeal of the Tokyo Dome

--Normally, seats close to the rink are popular at ice shows, but for "GIFT," all the seats were far from the rink. Overcoming and making use of this condition was a key feature of the show. You incorporated elements of a music concert into the direction. For example, there were scenes where dancers performed around the rink. While such a direction is not unusual in live performances at dome venues, it’s not something you can do at a regular ice show since it would obstruct the view of the audience and make it difficult to see the skaters.

It was an unusually extravagant production for an ice show, but without it, the space between the rink and the audience would have seemed rather empty. Loneliness and solitude are important pieces in constructing the story of "GIFT," so there was also a desire to bring out these emotions. But in the individual sport of figure skating, the skater is already a solitary figure. Simply performing in an empty space would have made the performance feel too lonely. To surprise and entertain the audience, it was necessary to do something different from the usual.

I want everyone, no matter where they sit, to have a special experience.

--It's a refreshing feeling that it's interesting to watch from a distance.

It’s a difficult point. When considering demand, many people say the best experience is when they watch from the front row. The speed and dynamics of a skater are more noticeable up close, and you can feel their expressions and breathing and even sense their gaze on you, which is part of the appeal of sitting near the rink.

However, I don’t think the figure skating I want to show is limited to just the charm of close-up views. I always think, “No matter where you sit, I want you to have a special experience that you can only have in that seat.” In "GIFT," there were no seats close to the rink, so we focused all our efforts on how the skating can be seen from a distance.

--This approach of "no matter where you sit" is also carried over into the arena tour "RE_PRAY."

We refined the know-how that we gained from "GIFT." And one more point. In figure skating competitions, generally, the skaters perform on the long side of a 30m x 60m rink, the 60m side of the rink, with the side where the judges are located as the front. This is how people perceive the rink as being horizontal. However, after turning professional, I started placing great importance on showing the rink from the short side, with the 30m side as the front. On one side of the short side, we placed a large LED screen, and the audience sat in front and on either side. We used projection mapping to link the visuals on the ice with the skating paths, and we also used large gauze curtains. Since we are using the rink vertically, I am also conscious of utilising the depth and perspective of the space.

--So, the short side seems like the "winning" side, but there are more seats on the long side. Doesn’t that lower audience satisfaction?

Actually, there are things that can only be felt from the long side. In figure skating, how far you can glide in one step and how fast you can go is crucial, and this is most apparent during long-distance movements. Therefore, on the long side, you can enjoy the big horizontal movements that are typical of figure skating, while on the short side, the focus is on utilising the depth, which is a new attempt. Also, in programs that use projection mapping, the visuals on the ice and the skating trajectory are more clearly visible from seats further away.

--So, the experience is different depending on the seat.

When I look at the data of those who bought tickets for my shows, I see that many are repeat customers. Because of this, when I was thinking about the structure and direction of "RE_PRAY," I focused on the concept that 'by watching it repeatedly, you can experience a different world each time (replay).

Additionally, this is something common in dance and ballet, but in expressive forms like those, the appeal tends to be stronger on the front-facing side of the body. Plus, figure skating is like performing on a stage placed in the center, meaning the audience can view it from 360 degrees. Therefore, in ice shows, we must be conscious of the 360-degree perspective in the direction and lighting. The fusion of the 360-degree design of the skating and the 360-degree design of the staging creates a fascinating experience where different views can be seen depending on the seat.

--"RE_PRAY" seemed to attract many new fans.

"RE_PRAY" had a theme of games, and word-of-mouth spread among game fans, which led many people to come to the venue or attend the live viewing for the first time.

The production and management team always want to create a show that new audiences can enjoy. However, even so, the most important thing is to consider those who think, "After all, I love Hanyu most." First of all, I want to create something that my fans will think is cool. Then, I think about the people who come to the show for the first time. Since people who love music, ballet, or have a deep appreciation for the arts also attend, I want to ensure that the experience doesn’t feel cheap, but rather that they can think, 'I had a luxurious experience by coming to this show.'

--There are more and more performances attracting attention from fans of the works you've collaborated with, such as 'GIFT,' which has a picture book published by the creative group CLAMP, and 'Meteor,' a song from the anime series 'Gundam SEED'. Is this a conscious effort?

I do think about bringing in fresh collaborations. But when it comes to games, anime, or manga, when I collaborate or use songs, it’s important that "I am really interested in it, I love it, I have been exposed to it for many years, and I have accumulated knowledge and experience." If I don't have depth in my approach to the work, I can’t show respect for it, and my performance will end up shallow.

That shallowness would likely be felt by the fans of that work, so I don’t want to casually take advantage of the popularity of someone else’s work. I want to make sure I respect and value the people who love these works. Because I genuinely love it myself, I can understand what would make people who also love that work or field feel like, 'It would be fun if it were expressed this way.' I want to focus on doing things that I can dive into deeply and do well.

"As a medium and a brand"

--You once said that "Yuzuru Hanyu is a medium." Do you still feel that way?

Essentially, I still feel the same. There's a line in the song "Sainoujin Ouenka (Support Song for the Troubled Talent)" by BUMP OF CHICKEN that says, "There is no song sung just for me." I believe that’s true. On the other hand, many people experience a song that touches their hearts, or an image forming in their mind when they listen to it. That’s something the creator probably didn’t intend. It’s from the creativity of the listener that unique emotions and actions are born.

It's the same with my figure skating and the words I say. When the person who receives them recalls something from it and feels their imagination being sparked, they say things like “That touched me” or “I like it.”

In that sense, I see myself as a medium. When I try to convey something, it is not always possible for 100% of what I am thinking to reach the audience. But if, in that moment, my attempt to convey something helps someone recall or evoke something within themselves, then I believe that’s the most accurate form of expression.

--I imagine there are also difficulties in maintaining the 'Yuzuru Hanyu brand' as a medium and meeting expectations.

Right now, I have a team of many people who worked with me on my solo shows. We share and discuss the image of 'how Yuzuru Hanyu should be presented' through the perspectives of people with diverse expertise. I receive their advice and align it with my own objective view and feelings of 'what I want to do.'

In the end, only I know how I feel. Now that I am starting to place more value on my own feelings, I have a clear image of what I want to do. But, if I were to solely produce myself based on my own feelings, the product would end up too narrow in its perspective. Although, it feels strange to call myself a product...

Now, I can speak comfortably in front of my fans.

--Was it difficult for you to value your own feelings in the past?

I think I was much more empty before. In figure skating, everything is left up to the judges. The score changes depending on what the judges think. So, in order to earn points and win, I had to prioritise what kind of music to choose, what themes to pick, and what to express, rather than what I personally wanted to express. I spent a long time thinking about how I would be evaluated. It may also be a habit from when I was a child. I’ve always felt that the happiest thing is when someone becomes happy or when someone is pleased.

So, I wasn’t sure what personal happiness from within me really was. But over time, as I worked on ice shows and new programs, I gradually came to understand what happiness arises from within me. I think I’ve started to be able to cherish that feeling. In a good way, skating is no longer just something personal to me. Being part of this larger movement of ‘creating a show with everyone’s help’, I’ve started to understand what personal happiness is. Although it’s still somewhat unclear and difficult for me to grasp.

-- Is it like separating the happiness of "work = skating" from the happiness of your private life and balancing them?

I wonder. To some extent, I try to separate them, but in reality, they proceed simultaneously. Skating and the various projects that stem from it aren't absolutely essential to my survival, but without them, I would lose my sense of purpose. In that case, I think 'purpose' and 'happiness' might be the same thing. So, when my personal happiness aligns with the success of a project, I think, 'Well, in the end, they are one and the same.'

"Realising the presence of fans"

--You maintained a stance of not revealing your private life or sharing unnecessary information during your competitive years. However, in the past few months, you’ve been expanding the ways you communicate with your fans, such as through messages for YouTube membership subscribers and radio (audio broadcasts).

"The frustration of not being able to express what I want to convey has always been there since my competitive years. For example, after a competition where things didn’t go well, if I were to analyse the cause and explain it in detail, it might come across as making excuses. There was a long period when I felt I shouldn’t show any weakness, and I thought I couldn’t afford to show any openings. If I showed my weakness, there were some... how should I put it... bad people who would seize upon it. It's hard to say (laughs).

However, during the "RE_PRAY" tour, I came to realise that there are so many people, including those in the membership, who are genuinely looking forward to my skating. Of course, each fan has their own heart, and when I say something, the interpretation will vary among individuals, and the images that come to mind will be different. But now I can speak with the reassurance that these people are supporting me in such a positive and kind way. I’ve gradually started to be able to express things that I had buried deep inside me with the help of everyone.

--Is that the main difference between your amateur career and your professional career?

When I was competing, I was fighting with everyone, including my fans. No matter what performance or result I had, people would say, "You did a great job," or "I'm glad for you," but deep down, I'm sure everyone wanted me to come in first. In the professional world, I don't have to fight anymore. As long as I do a good performance and look happy, most of the fans will tell me that makes them happy too. Because of that, I can feel at ease and entrust myself to the fans.

--On the other hand, there is a unique excitement in competition. Without clear rivals, is there something you’re doing to maintain the enthusiasm of the fans in ice shows?

It’s difficult. This is something I’m thinking a lot about right now. It’s not easy to create the same excitement in an ice show as in a competition. Without a clear goal of overcoming something or becoming number one, the sense of unity between me and the fans, as well as among the fans themselves, can easily become fragmented.

However, through my skating, I believe I can evoke the memories of the competition days, like the landscapes seen at the competition venues and their surroundings, and the images and emotions from those times. Therefore, for my long-time fans, I consciously perform in a way that helps them recall what they hold dear. I believe it’s possible for them to feel the excitement from back then, plus see how much I’ve improved since.

Also, like the ‘suspension bridge effect’, I’ve had many situations where I fought through a crisis. For example, at the Pyeongchang Olympics, and at many other competitions where my ankle was in terrible shape, or my overall physical condition was bad. When I managed to overcome those tough situations and win, many people thought, "It's cool that he won against the odds."

My biggest goal now is to create something that makes people think, "This person's skating is really good," without needing the ‘suspension bridge effect’. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yuzuru Hanyu, born on December 7, 1994, in Sendai. He won gold medals at the 2014 Sochi Olympics and the 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics. In 2018, he was awarded the People's Honor Award. In 2022, he attempted the quadruple axel at the Beijing Olympics, finishing in 4th place. In July 2022, he turned professional. He pioneered a new frontier in figure skating with his solo performance "Ice Story." Since the Great East Japan Earthquake, he has been diligently working on supporting recovery efforts.

Source: Weekly Toyo Keizai 2024/11/30 issue, pg 62-69 Info: https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/B0DM558RM9

#hanyu yuzuru #yuzuru hanyu #羽生結弦 #ice story #figure skater #figure skating #toyo keizai #magazine #interview #machine #translation

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