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witherby · 6 months ago

Note

hey 😏

just wondering if you have anymore mer reader in the works 😏

also! i hope that your doing well!!

and can i be 🌕 anon? :)

You can absolutely be 🌕 anon! And, I do! Here's the final installment of:

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader

Part 9

Masterlist is Here!

"I'll need everyone's attention before we continue into the next exhibit, please."

Damian's voice is clear but firm, no room for argument in his tone, and his tour group all quickly quiet down to watch him. He rewards them with his well-practiced Customer Service Smile, nodding once.

"Thank you," he says. "This final exhibit is the pride and joy of Gotham Aquarium: the Mer tank. I can already see hands raised, and I'll open the floor up to questions in a minute. We're going to cover the rules first."

He holds up one hand, raising a finger as he goes.

"Rule number one: absolutely no flash photography. Take as many pictures and videos you want, but you have to leave the flash off. Our mer's eyes are sensitive to highly-focused levels of light, and you could temporarily blind them. Rule number two: do not knock or beat on the glass. It is several inches thick and reinforced, but you can still startle and disturb the mer. Rule number three: please...please stop flipping off our mer. They've learned to mimic their handlers and some of the guests, and it took weeks to make them quit it. If I see a bird, notice a flash, or catch you banging on the glass, everyone will be asked to leave."

He drops his hand, looking at every guest expectantly.

"Got it? Everyone say yes, Damian."

"Yes, Damian," the crowd echoes back, a mixture of amusement from the adults and excitement from the children reaching his ears. He gives them another practiced smile and reaches for the door.

"Great. Then step right in. Fan out and look around as much as you want. You can ask any questions now."

"How long has Gotham Aquarium had the mer?" One adult immediately asks, examining the seaweed on the bottom of your tank.

"Almost two years," Damian replies. "The anniversary of their arrival is in a month. We've got a small party planned to celebrate."

"What's the mer's favorite color?" A child asks him, gently tugging on Damian's pant leg to get his attention. His smile becomes more genuine.

"Green," he replies. "They love green things. I see your hair clip is green. They'll probably stare at you when they come out."

The little girl gasps, eyes wide. "Really!?" She turns and runs to her dad. "Hey daddy! The mer likes green, and my hair clip is green! The mer will like me!"

More questions come that Damian answers with ease. He paces along the floor and casts his gaze upward, examining all the little ways your tank has been changing overtime.

Your rock collection has grown substantially since Damian started painting more for you. He gives you a new one every day, and you have them proudly scattered all along the floor to decorate your enclosure. You've also taken to moving your seaweed around; instead of one, big stretch of it to hide and sleep in, you've uprooted it and made it into a series of little hiding places. He can also see some weighted toys lying around that one visitor asks about, happy to explain how you use them for enrichment.

"When's the mer come out?" Another one asks, leaning against the glass. His eyes are practically glazed over from disinterest. "Is it sleeping or something? These tickets were like forty bucks and I'm just staring at rocks and water."

There's a loud thud against the glass behind him. The man yelps and whips around to find you with your hands pressed against the wall, eyes wide and teeth bared as you stare right at him.

"Oh, shit!"

Damian sighs, but he's smirking. You love startling unsuspecting guests; it's your second favorite activity. He watches the others flock to you once they realize what happened, and you perk up and examine them all with a much more pleasant smile.

"Daddy, I can't see," the girl from before complains. Her father gently hoists her up onto his shoulders, and you immediately take notice.

You push off from the glass and swim around the edge of the tunnel to examine her as closely as possible. You tap one claw on the glass, then gesture to your head, and the little girl gasps and beams.

"They see it!!! They see my hair clip daddy!!" She chirps. She tugs it off of her head and holds it up for you to see better. Your pupils widen and your tail swishes gently back and forth, deeply intrigued.

"Obviously, this is our mer," Damian speaks up, and he tells them your name. "Their breed is found in shallow, fresh water. They thrive in warmer temperatures, and they're very rarely alone. You can typically expect them to travel in pods of at least three, though more commonly up to six or seven."

"But Gotham Aquarium only has one mer?" A guest asks, while you make playful grabs for the clip to no avail. "Aren't they lonely, then?"

"There was a big adjustment period for them when we first acquired our mer," Damian nods, "but they have a dedicated team of caregivers that ensure they aren't lonely or bored. They've bonded with several of us very well. Even though they recognize that we don't live underwater, they still see us as pod-mates."

"How long did it take to bond with them?"

"Great question," Damian says. He watches you give up on snatching the clip and start swimming around the tunnel to examine the other visitors. "It took them about ten months after arriving to learn to trust me. We started off slow: I would use a remote-controlled robot to deliver their buckets of food and then dump it into the water. Then I would enter the room where the top of the tank is, and hand it to them with a long pole. Then I got rid of the pole and set the bucket on the lip of the tank, and stood back while they retrieved it. When they got used to me being around, we started working on small tricks."

Damian lifts his hands, wiggling his fingers to catch your attention. You lock eyes with him and give a knowing nod, swimming up until you're positioned directly above him. He waves his left hand clockwise, and you swim in slow, clockwise circles. He waves his right arm next, and you switch and start spinning counter-clockwise.

"This is all done humanely and voluntarily, of course," Damian explains while the guests watch on with rapt attention. "If there's a trick they don't want to perform, they simply won't do it. We don't force them into doing anything, including coming out during tours if that's not what they want. Some days they just aren't up to saying hello, and that's fine."

He drops one arm and uses the other to make a broad waving motion. You mimic the action. He points at one of your toys, gesturing for you to grab it and bring it over. You glance at the one he wants, then ignore him and decide to go back over to the little girl and admire her hair clip some more.

"As you can see, they like shiny objects, especially if they're green. They've got a small collection of aquatic-safe objects in their hideaway. All breeds of mer tend to have hoarding tendencies, and ours is no different."

Damian gives the group a few more facts about you and your general behaviors, answers some more questions, and then inevitably has to call it when the same guy complaining about ticket prices decides to photograph you with the flash on. You flinch and rub your eyes, then dart away out of sight.

"All right, everyone, please come this way," he calls, in that cordial but no-nonsense tone again, and holds open the door. "This concludes your tour of Gotham Aquarium. Please exit this way in an orderly fashion."

"Aww.."

"Nice job, jackass. We were supposed to be in here for at least twenty more minutes."

"I didn't think he was serious! I forgot to turn the flash off, so what!"

"That was kinda cool. Sucks we couldn't stay, though."

There's a tug on his pants again. Damian looks down at the little girl, who fidgets nervously.

"Um...is the mer gonna be okay? Are their eyes hurting a lot?" She asks. Damian knees down to her height and offers her another smile.

"They'll be fine," he promises. "I personally check on them every day. What's your name? I'll tell them you said hi."

"Um!" The girl blushes, eyes wide. "It's Rosie! Thank you mister!"

"You're welcome, Rosie. I hope you had fun today."

"So much fun!" She agrees, then turns to her dad and reaches up to take his hand, walking out of the tunnel. "Daddy, daddy! When I grow up I wanna take care of mers, too!"

"Okay, honey," her dad chuckles, "but you're gonna have to do your homework if that dream is gonna come true."

"Aw, man!....okay. I'll do my math sheets for the mers..."

Once the room is cleared, Damian closes and locks the doors. He hangs around just long enough to ensure no stragglers try to swing back around, then drops the Polite Tour Guide persona and heads for the staff elevators with a scowl. It's a matter of minutes before he's in the locker room, swapping out the Aquarium polo and khakis for his wetsuit and then trudging into your tank entrance.

"Rule one!" He complains to Jon, who is already sitting on the lip of the tank and filling a puzzle cube with treats for you. "No flash! It's the first rule, and someone breaks it almost every single day we're open! One day I'm going to hit my limit for these witless miscreants and start punching people."

"So, tours didn't go super well I take it," Jon says, not even sparing him a glance. He's heard different versions of this rant at least five times and doesn't react to it anymore, having quickly come to understand that Damian is just Like That. "You gonna go do the eye exam already or should I call my dad? Y'know, the actual vet?"

"He's never as thorough as I prefer. You know that. Also: shut up, who asked you?"

"You're a joy and a delight to work with, Wayne."

Damian ignores him and grabs a rebreather and situates it over his mouth, ties the bag of eye equipment around his waist, steps up onto the edge of the tank, then dives. The water swirls around him, an all-encompassing and welcoming pressure. He starts pedaling his arms and legs, headed for the direction you sped off at the end of the tour.

He finds you in the middle level of your tank, about a floor down, curled around an underwater tree limb and rubbing your eyes. You squint at him when you notice his presence and trill, the water vibrating slightly around you.

Damian quickly goes to work, pulling out one tool at a time to check on your eyes and how well you can see. You're perfectly fine, just annoyed, but he considers having his father enact a total ban on any cameras in the tunnel when tours come by. Just because you're fine now doesn't mean it'll stay that way every time.

He points upwards, to the surface, and you nod. You take his hand and pull him along, your powerful tail carrying him faster than he ever could on his own, and soon you're both above the water and treading it calmly.

"Welcome back!" Jon grins, waving your puzzle toy at you. "Refilled this for ya. Your record for getting all the treats out is six minutes. Think you can break that today?"

Your eyes narrow and you reach for it eagerly. You can smell the squid and shrimp tucked into each compartment, which are your favorites; absolutely you will be getting those out in six minutes or less.

Damian pulls himself up to the lip of the tank and both boys watch you poke, pull, and prod at the components of the puzzle box. It's not long before you're collecting your spoils and eating them triumphantly. Jon checks his timer and notes that you beat your previous record by over a minute and a half.

"Are you surprised?" Damian huffs. "They're brilliant. They could learn to do just about anything with enough time and practice."

You preen, chittering your agreement. That's why Damian is your favorite caretaker; he's never doubted you since getting to know you, not ever.

He did forget something, though. You toss the puzzle box back at Jon and make grabby hands, face expectant.

Damian immediately clears his throat and looks at Jon, cheeks turning the barest shade of pink. "I need you to go and fetch the shears. The vine growth on the middle level of the tank is beginning to obscure vision and easy travel."

"You didn't bring them with you?" Jon frowns. "Dude. They're all the way on the bottom floor in the maintenance closet. It's gonna take me like twenty minutes to get back here."

"Then you'd better make haste."

"Why can't you do it?"

Damian scowls at him. Jon throws his hands up and climbs to his feet.

"Fine! Haven't gotten my ten thousand steps yet anyway," he grumbles, heading for the door. "Don't play hide and seek without me! I've just gotten good at finding spots I can fit in!"

You chitter and chirp, amused, then focus on Damian again once the doors go your enclosure snap shut.

Damian faces you, the pink in his cheeks worsening. He fiddles with the bag tied to his waist and avoids your gaze.

"I, ah..." He starts, working his jaw in thought. "The girl whose clip you liked. She says hello. Her name is Rosie."

You blink, waiting patiently for him to get to the point.

"I was asked about how you've adjusted to life here without pod-mates. I told them you have a pod in us. That you're not alone here despite being the only one of your kind in Gotham Aquarium." Damian swishes his feet slowly in the water, following the same rhythm as your tail. You drift a little closer.

"And you've adjusted very well, Princess," he continues, voice turning soft. "I can't thank you enough for giving me a second chance to care for you. I want you to know that it means everything to me."

Damian meets your gaze again, and there it is. There's that pair of gorgeous, emerald eyes you adore. You drift even closer, resting your palms on the backs of his calves, and smile up at him. He smiles right back.

"You noticed I don't have another rock for you," he says. You nod. "It's because I didn't bring you a rock this time."

You frown, huffing. Damian chuckles.

"You know I kept the scales you gave me," he admits, recapturing your attention. Your eyes widen, heart starting to pound in your chest. Was he about to give them back? You didn't want them back. "They're beautiful, Princess. I keep them in a jar in my bedroom, and I look at them all the time. They make me happy every time I see them. I wanted to give you something like that in return."

Your heart pounds faster. It sounds like he's about to do what you've wanted from him for what feels like forever. Your grip on his calves tightens, wide eyes searching his own.

"I don't ever want you to doubt how much I care about you again," Damian says, pulling your gift out of the pouch on his waist.

It's a beautiful, emerald pendant on a gold chain, the jewel the same shade as his eyes. You're immediately captivated, reaching up with a trembling hand to cradle the necklace to your chest and admire it more closely. The gentle, rippling water of your tank reflects against the surface and makes the shine of it seem to undulate all around you. It's the most wonderful gift you've ever gotten.

"I hope... I hope that you'll accept this token of courtship," Damian finishes quietly.

You look up at him with tears in your eyes and trill loudly enough to make his ears ring. You tug frantically at his legs and he obediently slips back into the water, letting you wrap your arms around him and squeeze tight, tight, tight. He squeezes you right back, resting his chin on top of your head.

"I love you," he mumbles into your hair. You warble it back as best as you can, nuzzling into him, then lean up and gently press your lips against his. He presses right back, shivering but not from the chill of the water.

Jon finds the two of you like that when he returns with the shears twenty minutes later. He just sighs and rolls his eyes.

"First of all, finally. The will-they-won't-they drama was killing me. Second of all, you could have just said you wanted a moment alone, dude. It took me forever to find these! Do the vines even need trimmed down?"

Damian just smiles and hides his face in your shoulder. They don't.

#damian x reader #mermaid au #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #x reader #the end!

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fluffylino · 2 years ago

Text

pussy drunk minho

he'll never admit how dumb he gets for your pussy~

-contains mature themes

"kitten, im not that obsessed with your pussy" minho scoffed out. you clicked your tongue.

now that was a lie.

"i doubt you could last an entire week without it" you argued back. he smirked.

"game on." now it was your turn to make a face.

"so if i win, you'll wear the collar?" his expression dropping. you could see the wheels in his head turning. wondering if he could really beat you against this game.

"that is...that is if you win. which you won't im sure of it but alright" you couldn't help but smile.

"deal"

"seriously though i can live without eating you out..." you laughed right in his face. to which he rolled his eyes.

the whole argument starting when you asked if you could dom him. his immediate response being a firm no. you couldn't help but whine, even begging for it.

if he could dom you. you could dom him.

his response being "i'd rather be the one in control. i feel uneasy submitting."

so you decided to pry more into it. you wanted to know more. to truly understand him.

"because i feel like my mind will go all fuzzy and i'll look like an idiot" that was exactly why you wanted to take charge. if not for sometime. you were happy even if it was a one time thing.

minho was cute eitherway and he'd be even more cuter on his knees.

and then what really did it for you was when he said he wasn't that obsessed with eating you out.

a lie honestly.

his morning routine consisting of waking you up with his face between your legs. breathless and absolutely horny. grinding against the mattress.

it didn't matter if he had to go out. that always came first. and he was one to give amazing head. always having that confident smirk after making you cum.

the day one was fine.

he seemed normal. doing his daily tasks. going to the company. coming back all sweaty and laying on your chest. you couldn't help how sweet he was.

day three was when you noticed him staring.

you hadn't even realised the t shirt you were wearing had ridden up. enough to have your panties exposed. he was talking to you about the dance formations when all of a sudden you noticed the way his eyes kept lingering downwards.

so playfully you spread your legs open and closed them. you weren't being obvious. him on the other hand was captivated.

eyes locked onto your covered heat.

"minho." you called out. he looked back at your face so fast you wanted to laugh.

"hm?" he hummed out, casually walking out of the room, mumbling that he was going to shower.

when he did go for a bath, you pressed your ear against the door. a heat pooling in your lower abdomen at the sound of him jacking off.

"pfft and he says he can do without it" you muttered under your breath.

"you want my cunt so bad, don't you baby" you teased. loving the way he hid his face in the pillows beside you. it looked like he was throwing a tantrum.

"come onnn just put the collar on and then you can taste me-" you suggested, rubbing his back.

"no no no no no-" he chanted cutting you off mid sentence, voice muffled.

stubborn as hell. there was no possible way he would do it.

"was it that difficult, huh?" minho stared up at you with crazy eyes.

first of all, to get him on his knees was a hassle. and now he glared at you playfully. you let out a small laugh. he really looked like an angry kitten. the clip on cat ears and black collar around his neck made him look so soft.

"are you gonna be a goo-"

"just let me eat y-" you clicked your tongue. now he was really pissing you off. a bratty smile on his face. you just wanted to slap him.

"yes yes. now can i-"

"thats it. im done" you stood up, ready to leave. until you were pulled back. minho gripping your thighs. a look of guilt on his face.

"i'm sorry. i'll be good" he mumbled, a small pout emerging.

"promise?"

"hmmmm"

you sighed. you didn't trust him yet. so you took the leash out. his mouth opening and closing when you hooked it onto the collar. his eyes locked onto were you clutched the leash.

"wh-"

his original question turning into a breathy moan. his face plummeting between your legs.

inhaling your soaked panties for a good few seconds. before he lifted his head back up.

using his teeth to take off your panties. you could see the way his breath hitched upon seeing your cunt. it had been so long since. he saw your pussy. after days. up close. leaning in.

a firm tug to the collar. a small grunt leaving him.

"you think you can just get right into it?" you raised an eyebrow, looking down at him. he seemed to understand. his pride wouldn't let him. but reluctantly he asked.

"may i...please?"

you nodded. satisfied.

you gasped. fuck you hadn't even realised how much you missed his mouth on you. his tongue licking into your cunt.

nose deliciously rubbing against your clit. face practically buried there. you were worried he wouldn't be able to breathe.

so you held onto his collar, pulling him back.

"m-mmmh... i-ive been so good" he whined, breathing heavily. your essence and his spit staining his chin and nose.

you noticed he was hard. precum soaking into his sweatpants.

"don't think i didn't notice you humping my foot" you choked out.

pussy throbbing at the loss of contact. you needed his mouth back on you.

"couldn't h-help it, sorry" he apologised, keeping his head down. as if he didn't deserve it. you ran your hands through his hair, tucking a few strands behind his ear.

"its okay, kitten. use my leg, hm?" you reassured, closing your legs around his head.

"aahmmhh f-fuck" minho cried out. enveloped by your thighs. nevertheless taking the opportunity to slurp at your dripping cunt. lewd noises echoing throughout the room.

his hips slowly moving. beginning to grind against your foot. you unconciously pressed down on his cock.

a muffled whimper escaping him.

"you're such a slut, a-aren't you" you hissed out. his lips wrapped around your swollen clit. as he sucked. pushing his nose against your cunt. trying to take more than he could possibly handle.

"say it, baby. you're a slut.." he gasped, glassy eyes looking up at you. sweat dripping down his neck.

lips swollen and red.

"s-slut for...for your p-pussy" he repeated. begging to make you cum.

"dumb f-for your cunt only ahhh"

"please p-please c-cum m-mommy" your breath hitching at the name. you let him get back. cock begging for release.

"gonna cum?" you whimpered out, nearly your climax. his head shaking as he humped your leg desperately.

"c-come on kitty, make me cum"

you moaned loudly, his wet muscle shoved so deep inside of you. his own high pitched moan joining you. both of you cumming at the same time.

a wet patch on his pants. his hips still bucking as he let his tongue hang out. riding his climax out.

nevertheless he cleaned you up. licking and running his tongue through your folds. making sure to not waste a single drop of your tasty essence.

small little whines leaving him at your taste.

"my perfect kitty" you praised him. minho panting as he looked at you. pouting. asking for a kiss. his head resting against your thigh.

"good k-kitty?"

"did so good for me"

"yeah okay okay...im a hundred percent drunk on your damn pussy"

"AHAH SO I WON-"

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archangeldyke-all · 7 months ago

Note

I feel like Sev is a total dad in that any time she gets into an argument with one of The Kids (tm), she will absolutely never verbally apologize. She will, however, appear with ten crates of a fruit that they mentioned they liked approximately one time in passing or just randomly decide to take them somewhere fun. Just randomly…Totally not because she feels bad or anything…

AD:FAS:DF:ASJDF this is so sweet okay

men and minors dni

it's easier for her to apologize to isha.

the kid's so tiny, and her big gold eyes are so cute, and she doesn't have much ...history... with isha-- so when she accidentally steps on isha's fingers, or eats the leftovers isha was saving for herself in the fridge, or farts when isha's standing right behind her-- a quick "oh, my bad, isha" or "sorry, kiddo" slip off her tongue easily.

of course, this doesn't change the fact that she'll feel guilty as hell for the rest of the day and spoil isha endlessly. but still, it's a little easier for her to actually say sorry when it's baby isha.

it's different with jinx.

for one thing... jinx talks. and jinx talks back. sevika's good at a lot of things, but quick comebacks are not her strong suit. usually, she gets flustered and gruffs out a 'shut the fuck up' which leads to an even bigger argument.

for another thing, jinx and sevika have been squabbling for years. and sometimes those squabbles were... intense, to say the least. the recent familial feelings sevika and jinx have formed for each other have not always existed.

so... it's a little harder for sevika to apologize to her.

she always knows when she's gone too far. she's incredibly intuitive, she's able to read jinx's micro-expressions like an open book. so it's not like she needs help in realizing her mistakes.

it's just the apologizing for it that's hard for her.

about three months into the girls moving in with you, jinx and sevika get into their first real fight as family.

you and isha watch with cringes as they both fling insults and soft objects at each other-- fighting in the way people fight only when they've known each other forever.

it ends with jinx fleeing to her room and sevika reaching for her emergency cigarette stash. she only allows herself a pack a year, so you know she feels horrible when she grabs two.

isha rushes to comfort jinx. you rush to comfort your wife.

"you alright?" you ask as you step onto the back porch. sevika just shrugs.

"i'll get over it. she'll get over it." she mumbles. you wrap an arm around her shoulders, and sevika groans. "shit, i feel so bad. i shouldn't lose my shit with her like that anymore."

"...probably not." you hesitantly agree. sevika huffs and elbows you, and you just kiss her cheek. "but mistakes are alright, babe. we're still learning. both of us. yesterday i caught isha playing with one of our vibrators. she was using it as a mini bazooka in her game of doll wars--" sevika cuts you off with a burst of surprised laughter, and you smile. "point is we're figuring it out as we're going. and nobody's bleeding, so i'd count that as a win."

sevika sighs and agrees with you, stubbing out her cigarette and kissing you soundly.

you think that's the end of it until you're at the store with jinx the next day.

"did sevika say anything to you about... like... robbing a convience store or something?" jinx asks. you blink.

"what?"

jinx shrugs. "this morning she woke me up by shoving, like, an industrial sized box of flamers onto my bed. like fifty pounds of flamers!" jinx giggles. you smile. that explains her and isha's red stained mouths this morning-- and why sevika was out so late last night. "so i dunno. i'm just trying to figure out where she got 'em from."

"she bought them, jinx. she's saying sorry to you."

"...sorry for what?" she asks.

"for the fight you got in last night!" you giggle.

jinx blinks again, like she's never been apologized to before. it's likely that she hasn't. you sigh and wrap an arm around her shoulder. "...sevika's never apologized to me before." she says. you nod. "at least, not without silco threatening her job, or something."

"you weren't her kid back then." you say.

a smile ticks up at the corner of her mouth, and jinx giggles.

"why didn't she just say 'sorry?' she musta spent at least a hundred on that box--"

"she's not the best with her words, jinx, you know this." you say with a laugh. jinx cackles and nods.

taglist!

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

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

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

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

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

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

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

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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atinystarcafe · 2 months ago

Text

San fic recs

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✴ : smut ᯓᡣ𐭩 : absolute favourites [Last updated: 22.04.2025] ⋆˙⟡ If any links don't work anymore please let me know I'll get it fixed as soon as possible ^^

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Series ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Synthetic heartbeats | part 2 - @armpirate ✴ | robot!san x inventor!reader (COMPLETED)

After loneliness has hit you, you decided to create a companion through an AI project you had left pending after failing with it. SAN is a new technology robot, able cover up your needs before they were obvious, giving you the fake human support you were looking for. Although, maybe that human support isn't as fake as you thought and SAN is able to cover up more needs than you could ever think of...

In The Quiet Spaces | Of Wanting - @honeyhotteoks ✴ | boyfriend to husband!san (COMPLETED)

a quiet morning snowed in at the cabin with san ❄

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The Roommate - @s4nniebe4r | enemies to lovers au, forced proximity (ONGOING)

a mutual friend suggests you and choi san, of all people live together

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ceilings | Part 2 | Part 3 - @yoongiseesawmp3 ✴ | parent au, pe teacher!san x (not so) single mom!reader (COMPLETED)

your kid is finally ready to go to school, and you're spiraling. thankfully, you find friendship with your kid's teacher and she becomes determined to become your best friend. simultaneously, she tries to set you up with the cute pe teacher, but you know him from somewhere deep within your past. can the truth come out without jeopardizing your future?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It's You - @minisugakoobies ✴ | best friends brother!san (ONGOING)

He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend's little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That's it. How did this happen?

Virtues And Dices | Silent Night, Unholy Night - @outlawinthisworld ✴ | christmas au, childhood friends to lovers au (COMPLETED)

Wooyoung gifted you a set of Naughty Dice at your group’s annual Christmas party, which your childhood best friend and long-time crush, San, found intriguing…

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Oneshots and drabbles ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Too Sweet - @yoongiseesawmp3 | model!san x designer!reader

it's love at first sight when you see san. he's perfect...for your runway show! he's the top model right now, and everyone wants him. you want him a little more, but we'll unpack that later. can you get the it boy into your collection?

U Got It Bad - @yoongiseesawmp3 ✴ | baseball player!san x reporter!reader

you've been covering your local team for years. the players, the coaches, everybody knows you. except for newbie choi san. he just joined the team, but he knows you from somewhere...maybe the bar last night?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The Last Of The Real Ones - @k-hotchoisan ✴ | villain!san x hero!reader kinda

you awaken from a three centuries slumber, sealing yourself after being almost sacrificed to be the next heavenly offering, your memories barely intact, and now you realise the world is almost completely destroyed. You have no choice but to find out what happened.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sweet, Sweet Revenge - @hwallazia ✴ | sub boyfriend!san

you give san a taste of his own medicine, taking the lead and setting the tone yourself.

Overwhelmed By Instinct - @domm1etae ✴ | a/b/o au, alpha!san x omega!reader

Have you ever imagined a needy, desperate alpha in rut, so overwhelmed by pleasure that they pass out while their omega rides them? Their omega, still eagerly bouncing on their cock, only realizes their adorable, pathetic alpha has blacked out from the sheer intensity of it all

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The Help - @tsukisrants ✴ | strangers to lovers au

you’re tired of your ex trying to control your life, and as you’re once again faced with him, you know you’ll have to rely on yourself to make it. but… things don’t go as planned, and for once, someone steps in, and helps you. instead of going home, you decide to give the stranger a chance at making your night memorable. and fuck, he does.

The Last Straw - @vent-stink | boyfriend!san

After getting into an argument with your friend, you can't help but feel the weight of everything else falling on you and San doesn't know what to do to help.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Leave The Window Open - @sungbeam | neighbours to lovers au, cat dad!san

turns out your upstairs neighbor has a cat who adores climbing through your window — oh, and said neighbor is also fine as hell.

Dolce And Gabbana - @kitten4sannie ✴ | idol!san x guest!reader

san can’t seem to get you off his mind after sitting next to you during the latest D&G showcase, so he has no choice but to get you on his dick instead.

Kitten Fever - @kitten4sannie ✴ | hybrid!au, parent!au, cat hybrid husband!san

after you put your baby to sleep and head to bed yourself, you come to the discovery that your dear husband just hit his rut and desperately wants to put another baby in you.

Middle Of The Night - @kitten4sannie ✴ | boyfriend!san

these days, san can never seem to get a good night’s rest, that is, until he’s able to completely unload himself inside his pretty little girlfriend. good thing you‘re laying right next to him.

Gold Rush - @kitten4sannie ✴ | western au, cowboy husband!san

san strikes gold, in more ways than one.

Last Christmas - @kitten4sannie ✴ | exes to lovers au

during a winter getaway with your friends, you end up having to come face to face with choi san, the man who broke your heart in two just last christmas.

Wooyoung's sister - @hotteokyu ✴ | enemies to lovers, idol!san x wooyoungs twin!reader

Your brother's career would be over if not for his pretty substitute. You can sing, dance, and make a perfect impression of Wooyoung, so you accept his plea. You have your own reasons, of course. It's about time you meet the man thirsting for your innocent brother and put him in his place. You hate people like him. Choi San.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Depths Of The Ocean - @joong-of-gold | single parent au, office au, single parent!san x office worker!reader

the ceo of your company doesn't seem to have a warm bone in his body, constantly strutting around the office with an unnecessary aura of authority. however, the facade falls away when you discover he has a daughter, and you delve into the depths of his true personality.

With A Touch Of Sweetness - @atxxzist | regular!san x barista!reader

working at a cafe, you have to deal with a certain customer with dimples who always like his iced coffee extra sweet

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sugarplum - @itstheghostofmypast | husband!san x bakery owner!reader

So he loved HIS ROLLS HUH?!

A Goodfella's Moondance - @itstheghostofmypast | mafia!au

He waited for her to waltz into his arms, and she did. He felt her jitter and shiver under his touch, much like how he did the same on her love. He had found someone to love and cherish, someone who kept his fragile morality in check, someone who he could call a lover, a wife, a weakness.

14:00 - @itstheghostofmypast | corporate worker/husband!san

He was glad he took her to Japan on a business trip, one of the best decisions of his life.

Cuteness Clad In Silk - @xaer1s ✴ | boyfriend!san

san was always a calm and collected guy, not riling himself up easily but this simple change you made tonight, unexpectedly -especially for him- had him feeling a bit too excited.

Rock & A Hard Place - @bombuni ✴ | slight dubcon, roommate!san

your roommate lends a helping hand.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Honey, Baby - @i-like-loserz ✴ | sub husband!san

san needs your attention

Mommy & Daddy - @i-like-loserz ✴ | boyfriend!san x tipsy!reader

you come home from a girl's night out feeling extra needy for your boyfriend

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sensitive - @ateezscupid ✴ | sub boyfriend!san

All you were doing was giving your boyfriend head scratches. You didn't expect him to completely fold under your touch.

Obsessed - @hwallazia ✴ | boyfriend!san

just virgin!san eating u out for the first time <3

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sleepy Adoration - @solaris-amethyst | boyfriend!san

You're getting ready for bed and your boyfriend refuses to go to bed without you despite the fact that he can barely keep his eyes open.

It's You - @xomakara ✴ | actor!san x publicist!reader

You're a publicist secretly in love with your famous client, San, but his manager thinks you should cook up a story about him and his co-star to generate buzz for their upcoming movie. This involves arranging dates and photo ops for the two of them, but you can't help but notice he seems more interested in you.

Roadtrips - @enhanextdoor | proposal au

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽.

A Burning Passion - @k-zuzulibrary | strangers to lovers au, boxer!san x med student!reader

an amateur medic assigned to treat a famous, professional boxer. what possibly could go wrong?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Devotion - @cheolism-archive ✴ | rebel!san x gang leader!reader

after a year of fighting in a rebellion, san was tired of battle. like an angel, a goddess, you offered him peace.

Just You - @wwooyology ✴ | roommate au, enemies to lovers au

he was just your annoying roommate that you just couldn't wait to get away from. all of his late night rendezvous started to get under your skin so you just avoided him like the plague. that was until you needed his help getting to class and of course he wanted something in return.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 A Little Too Late, A Little Too Drunk - @dae-chwiita | friends to lovers au, drunk!san

You keep ignoring San and his drunk self can't handle it.

Primal Instinct - @mingi-s-dimples ✴ | werewolf au, werewolf!san x human!reader

when you decide to confront San after days of him avoiding you, unknowingly step into the lair of a werewolf in rut, you ignite a night of uncontrollable desire and primal intensity.

Kalla - @armpirate ✴ | hotel owner!san

The calla lily has a fair amount of symbols related to it. And the owner of the hotel you were sent to work to chose to use the hidden lustful, sexy and sensual meaning of it.

With Love For You - @honeyhotteoks ✴ | husband!san

you’ve been married to choi san since you were young, and you love him wholly and completely, but you also need to discover and understand your own sexuality. san is nothing if not supportive, and as a couple you hire an escort to help you explore those desires.

Apt For Two - @i-like-loserz ✴ | friends to lovers au, drunk!san

San's Sweet Touch - @brownsugarbaybee ✴

Lovers Lane - @shinestarhwaa | parent au, husband/dad!san

Sweat And Sweet Kisses - @wonbinini | boyfriend!san

Climbing A Mountain - @shinestarhwaa ✴ | sexworker!san

Riding San For The First Time - @starmatzz ✴

Morning Warmth - @st4rlvr

At The Alter - @st4rlvr

────୨ৎ────

#mist🫧 recommends #ateez fic recs #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #san fic recs #san x reader #san fluff #san smut #san imagines

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widowmaxff · 2 months ago

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i love your wandanat mom fics sm!! 😭

i was wondering if you could write something w them and a reader that has wandas powers and r is on a mission with someone else (maybe kate or yelena or both 👀) and r has to use their her powers to save them but she winds up passing out from overexerting her powers

and if you do choose yelena could you make her and natasha sisters thank you!!!

lose your power

(daughter!reader × moms!wandanat & fem!reader × bishova)

warnings: all platonic, violence

a/n: okay, this request has been in my inbox for probably over a year, almost two - like all the others - but tysm!!! <3 and i promise i'll get back to writing (or not)

-> my masterlist

“No! Absolutely not!” Natasha was the first to speak after Nick Fury told the details of the mission in which you, Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova, your aunt, were summoned. You didn’t know how in the end your mother let you despite her great arguments - it was your first mission and you had just turned 18, Kate is a child, even if she is 23, and Yelena wouldn’t be able to handle the two of you. Even so, you knew that there was no way anything could go wrong. You had the same powers as your other mother, Wanda, she taught you how to use them perfectly and trained you every day so that nothing would go wrong.

Your mother didn't have a good childhood, no one protected her from the horrible things that were done to her. So, she always did the opposite with you, she protected you from everything that could go wrong. But, when the frustrated sigh left Natasha's mouth, you celebrated knowing that she had finally let you accompany them on the mission. You knew why she was so defensive about you not going. Natasha was always very protective of you, so any situation that put you, even the slightest bit, in danger areas, she would do everything to make you feel comfortable.

A few minutes before you, your aunt and Kate got into the Quinjet to finally leave for the mission, your mother Natasha was talking seriously to Yelena. You weren't listening, but you knew she was telling your aunt to protect you at all costs, not to leave you alone for too long in those dark and cold rooms, and to definitely bring you back in one piece.

Unlike Natasha, Wanda seemed too excited about your first mission. "I'm so, so proud of you!" She left several kisses on your head while speaking words of love to you. "Everything ready, Darling?"

“Mhm, we just have to wait for Mom to stop talking to Auntie Yel about protecting me.” Your Mama chuckles, stroking your hair behind your ear. She leaves one more kiss on your head before turning to Natasha and giving her a ‘they need to go’ look.

[...]

“Okay, so it’s a simple mission, we’ll be able to complete it easily. There will probably be some Hydra agents but we’ll be able to take them all down,” Yelena says as she puts some bullets from her gun into the pockets of her vest. You nod during her speech, feeling bubbles of emotion coming out of you, shaking a little.

“This is the first time I’ve heard you give that positivity speech, Yelena.” Kate murmurs beside you as the three of you wait at the exit of the Quinjet in front of the almost abandoned Hydra building. You chuckle softly when you hear the irritated sigh coming from your aunt, it seemed like the two of them would never stop pecking at each other.

“First of all, I’m doing this because my niece is here and she’s almost bursting with nerves.” Yelena points a finger in front of Kate, who quickly lowers her head. “Second of all, shut up, Kate Bishop.” You laugh quickly before being startled by the sound of the large door opening.

Your aunt sends you a comforting smile, quickly ordering you and Kate to follow her. “Everyone remembers where to go, right?” You and the dark-haired girl nod, your hands getting wetter with sweat. “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” Yelena turns to you, a soft, caring look on her face.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Your footsteps were the loudest thing in that room at the base. You walked calmly and always paying attention, just like you had learned in your training. The three of you were looking for some necessary files that Nick Fury had asked for. You were working in the part of the base where it would probably be the calmest, according to him, but even so you felt your emotions on your skin, almost afraid of what could happen from now on. Your aunt checked to see if everything was okay with you and Kate every five minutes. Despite not being considered the most affectionate person in the world, Yelena would take a bullet for you.

“Shit, I hear voices.” Kate mutters to the two of you on the coms, making you stop quickly in place. Despite being far from the two of them, your breathing became heavier and your ears alert. “There are like a million of them here.”

Yelena mutters something to herself, probably a curse, you thought. “Don’t move and don’t make any noise, Kate.” Belova commands as you can hear her deep, heavy footsteps through the devices in your ears, indicating that your aunt was coming to Bishop’s side to help her. “Beep me on your location, Bishop.”

”I’m coming to help too,” You mutter quickly into the coms, trying to get your breathing and heart rate back to a regular rhythm. You get back on your feet before you even finish speaking, locating Kate’s position and preparing yourself for the amount of Hydra agents that would be there.

“Stay exactly where you are, Y/n.” Yelena’s voice was almost muffled, heavy. “Don’t even think about coming near here, Kate and I will take care of this.”

No, you couldn’t let the two of them fight hand-to-hand combat with all those Hydra agents Kate had described. Even though your aunt and Bishop had much more experience than you, knowing exactly what to do, you were still afraid. And even though you trusted them completely, you knew you couldn’t let them go alone. Your powers would easily help you take down all those agents, but with Yelena’s protection, she would never let you get close to danger.

“Okay…” You obviously lied, walking towards the chaos that was about to begin.

You could still hear Yelena and Kate talking through the coms, drawing up a plan against all those Hydra agents. Your steps were soft and calculated, almost as if you were mentally training to recharge all your magic and your training that had been calculated during the last year. You felt the red power bubbling in your fingers and in your blood, ready to be used at any cost against the enemies present in that building. At that moment, you remembered your mother Wanda. She was probably trying to distract Natasha, who was probably freaking out waiting for your arrival.

“Yelena! I need help!” Your thoughts are interrupted by Kate’s screams in your ears. You can hear grunts and gunshots, probably from Yelena, making you run even faster.

When you arrived at the scene, some of the Hydra agents were dead, but, as Kate said, there were like a million of them there. You could glimpse the purple of Bishop’s uniform and your aunt’s blonde hair, hearing the grunts and gunshots from both them and the agents there. Your mind was racing and you could feel the heat of your power in your veins, insisting that you do something, even if it went against Yelena’s wishes.

You closed your eyes tightly and began to concentrate, trying to leave the sounds of death and violence behind, almost in silence. All the training you had received in the last few years came to your mind, remembering the words and steps your mothers had taught you, especially Wanda. Your fingers began to tingle with red magic, your head ached and your breathing became heavy. You raised your hands towards the Hydra agents, feeling your vision grow blurry and your legs failing. You threw your arms abruptly down, howling and your throat hurting as all the enemies fell lifeless to the ground.

The black dots in your vision began to grow larger, your feet began to fail and your red magic began to disappear from the place. The last thing you saw was your aunt Yelena running to your side, although you could see blood on both her and Kate, you were unable to recover and before falling unconscious to the ground, you felt your eyes roll up into your head and exhaustion finally overcame you.

[...]

When you open your eyes, you are startled to no longer be in the dirty and almost abandoned building. Your hands begin to hurt in the same place where your magic dissipated, spreading throughout the bodies of those agents. Your head throbbed to the point where it felt like it would explode at any moment, making you start to breathe deeply as you felt the cold air of that place, as if somehow that would help you.

The hospital room in the Compound was silent. Only the sound of your heartbeat could be heard. You make a little effort to sit up on the stretcher, placing your hands on your chest to try to ease the pain, which, even though it didn't seem to have been affected, was hurting somehow. Looking around, you see a small vase of flowers next to the bed, a chair with an unfinished book on top, and normal things that would probably be in a hospital room.

The sound of your room door opening makes you automatically turn your head to it. Your eyes were still a little blurry, making you see your mother Natasha's red hair as if you needed glasses. "Y/n?" She immediately runs towards you, placing the back of her hand on your forehead, then on your cheeks. "How do you feel, darling?"

"M'kay, Mom..." Your head follows your mother's hand, receiving her affection. "Where's Mama?" Your mother sighs, using her thumb to caress your face.

"She's been here all night, awake. I told her to take a shower and get something to eat, she'll be here in a bit." Natasha leaves a kiss on your head, taking her other hand to your hair, placing a strand behind your ear.

Now that your mother was closer to you, you could see the deep, dark circles under her eyes, the reddish hue of her hair, making you realize that your mother Wanda wasn't the only one who stayed up all night by your side. "I'm gonna get Dr. Cho, okay?" You nodded, almost going unnoticed by Natasha.

The doctor asked you questions: how you were feeling, if you remembered everything that happened. You managed to answer everything, even though you were still a little groggy, but your mother Natasha was by your side holding your hand for support. It didn't take long for the questionnaire to end and a few moments later your mother Wanda entered the hospital room.

“Oh, love.” You felt her arms around you before you even realized she was there. You could feel Wanda’s fast heartbeat, her quickened breathing on the back of your neck and the strong scent of her sweet perfume. “You’re okay…” She murmurs, more to herself than to you.

“I am, Mama. I told you I could do it.” Wanda chuckles, finally looking you in the eyes, which now had large bags of dark circles underneath.

“You’re really brave, you know that?” Her voice was soft, placing one of her hands on your cheek, caressing them, just like Natasha earlier. “Kate told me there were a lot of them.

“I learned from the best.”

“What about me?” You both didn’t even see Natasha coming through the door of the room, she was carrying a tray with some food that was definitely better than the ones in the hospital.

You laugh at the question before answering: “I learned from you too, Mom.” She places the tray in front of you, soon sitting next to you on the hospital bed. “How's Auntie Yelena and Katie?” Your voice gets a little lower with the question, almost whispering.

“They’re fine, Sweetheart,” Natasha answers, sensing your concern. When she found out what happened to you, she was angry, very angry with Yelena. But after checking on the two of them, she realized that if it weren’t for you, they would probably both be dead by now. “You really are a hero.” Your cheeks turn pink and a small laugh leaves your mouth.

“Natasha is right,” Wanda adds, leaving a kiss on your head. “We love you so much, forever, no matter what happens.” You look at your mothers with sparkles in your eyes and a huge smile on your face.

“I love you too, always.”

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sturnioz · 4 months ago

Text

you ask mechanic!matt to teach you how to fix his car, and it's not as easy as you thought it would be.

"you... y'want to learn how to fix my car?" matt repeats, his voice carrying a mix of disbelief and amusement as he rolls out from beneath the car on the creeper. his arms and hands are smeared with grease and oil, and the corner of his lips pulls into a crooked grin as he looks up at you.

it didn't sound that ridiculous when you first said it, but hearing him repeat it now makes you frown just a little, and you tilt your head, planting your hands on your hips in defiance.

"i see you do it all the time, and i thought it'd be fun to learn," you said, lifting your chin with a hint of pride. "plus, i think i'll be good at it—better than you, even."

matt snorts, a breathy laugh escaping as he pushes himself up from the creeper, wiping his filthy hands on his already ruined jeans, giving you a lazy once-over. you're standing there in one of your cute t-shirts and a pair of denim shorts—your current summer outfit for this sweltering heat.

"better than me, huh?" he finally says, rubbing a hand across his jaw with an exaggerated hum. "big talk for someone who's never touched an engine before."

"i've seen you touch engines, though," you counter smartly, a grin plastered across your face like you've already won this argument. "how hard could it be?"

matt grins back at you, and he nods toward your outfit. "you sure you wanna work on a car wearin' that, sweetheart?"

you cross your arms over your chest, "i'm not afraid of a little oil and grease."

"a little?" he repeats as he leans casually against the hood of his car, "y'think it's just gonna be a little? look at me." he gestures to his grease-streaked arms, the smudges along his jawline, and his jeans, which are more oil-stained than denim at this point.

"i'll..." you pauses for a moment, before tilting your chin up again. "i'll be fine."

"alright, sweetheart..." he hums softly, licking his bottom lip. "but the second you're all covered in grease 'n you start screamin' about how it won't come off, m'gonna remind you that you're 'fine'."

you stick your tongue out at him in defiance. "i won't scream."

matt's grin doesn't falter as he grabs his toolbox, holding it so effortlessly before handing it over to you. but the second it lands in your hands, you huff softly, the weight straining in your arms.

it's heavier than you expected, but you bite your tongue and straighten your posture, pretending it's nothing.

no way are you letting him see you struggle—not when you're trying to prove you can handle this.

it should be easy. so easy. peace of cake.

...it's not easy.

it's hell.

you're filthy. your shirt is ruined—completely soaked with sweat and streaked with black smudges of oil and grime. your hands are a mess, and you're pretty sure there's smudges all over your face that you can't even wipe off because your hands are too disgusting.

your back aches from laying on the creeper, the hard surface digging into you every time you shift. your arms are screaming at you from turning the wrench over and over and over again, and you're absolutely positive you've chipped at least one nail—maybe two or three.

it's unbearably hot under the car, the kind of heat that clings to your skin and makes the air feel heavy. you can barely hear matt's voice over the sound of your misery as he crouches nearby, casually rattling off instructions after instructions like this is the easiest thing in the world.

"and don't touch that—it's still hot," he says, his voice muffled as you squint up at the car, trying to figure out which that he's even talking about.

"how the FUCK do you do this?" you finally snap, your voice echoing from beneath the car.

matt's face appears on your left, upside-down, and far too amused for your liking. he's holding a bottle of water, taking a sip before he quirks a brow at your outburst. "y'alright down there, sweetheart?"

"no. i'm not alright!" you whine, flinging the wrench down beside you. it clatters loudly against the concrete floor, the sound echoing in his home garage. you wince at the noise, but your frustration refuses to dim. "you do this every day?! and for fun, too?"

"i do this 'cos it's my job," he corrects with a smirk. "the funs just a bonus—i enjoy workin' on cars."

you glare at him, your pout deepening. before you can fire back another compliant, he disappears from view. for a brief moment, you wonder where he's gone—until you feel something.

you're suddenly being dragged out from under the car by your ankles, matt's grip firm as he pulls you out with ease. you come to a stop with a clumsy thud, blinking up at him in stunned disbelief as he grins down at you.

you sit up, your arms trembling slightly from the strain of holding yourself upright, and matt doesn't even try to hide his laughter as it spills out of him in a warm, throat chuckle.

he reaches down, grabbing your hands with his own and tugging you to your feet. you stumble, but manage to steady yourself, standing there with a dramatic pout as he grabs a rag from the table.

you take the opportunity to glance down at yourself, and the sight is... disgusting.

you look awful.

you are completely covered in oil and grease—your shirt, your shorts, your arms and your legs. it looks like you willingly rolled in engine grease.

you keep your pout firmly in place, even as matt tilts your chin up slightly to press the damp rag to your cheek, wiping away the mess staining your face with care.

"i think i broke my back..." you mumble pitifully. "and my arms. and my spirit."

"poor baby," matt hums softly as he tosses the rag aside, using his fingers to gently brush the damp strands of little hairs away from your sweat-slicked face.

"it's not funny." you complain, but it's hard to sound convincing when your voice is this whiny. you exhale deeply, your shoulders slumping as you look up at him in defeat. "okay, maybe i'm not better at this than you. you win. go ahead. say 'i told you so' before i collapse."

"i don't need to say it," he murmurs, shaking his head as his grin softens slightly. "you already know."

"you're insufferable."

"and you look kinda hot," he shoots back without zero hesitation, his eyes flitting down. "covered in grease 'n all. i like it." you're caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, but he doesn't give you time to respond as he grabs your hand. "c'mon, sweetheart. let's get you cleaned up before you start cryin'."

"i'm not going to cry," you grumble, but you let him pull you along anyway, lacing your fingers through his. as he leads you toward the door, you glance up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching into a little grin, and you wiggle your eyebrows. "you think i'm hot?"

#©sturnioz #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #☆ mechanic!matt #꒰ mechanic!matt prompt ꒱

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namgyunation · 5 months ago

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Hi, absolutely love your writing style and that you not oversimplify characters.

You wrote before, that Nam-gyu and y/n (I’m not sure if she is even y/n) are fighting fiery and a lot. Could you write about one of those scandals and the behavior of both after it.

It can be your headcanons or a full drabble, you choose. Though I’d love to see replicas of both during the argument and afterwards.

Once again, love your works 💋

addicted to the drama

— pairing: nam-gyu x f!reader — summary: a relationship with someone like nam-gyu isn't easy, or peaceful. far from it, but you're in this shit for the long haul. OR; three fights with nam-gyu and three ways it gets 'resolved.' — warnings: suggestive moments, a littleeeee gross, he's especially gross in the second fight i'm sorry :(, mentions of sex but no crazy explicit smut, 18+, the girls are fightinggg, there's a little fluff in here, nam-gyu is veryyy not nice in the third fight and uses rather mean language, drug use, not proof-read! — word count: 11.3k — a/n: hiiiiii thank you so so much for the request and the kind words omg (seriouslyyy thank you :*)) <333 this is my first time ever doing one, so i hope i didn't stray too far from what you wanted, haha. i think nam-gyu is definitely a petty little shit when it comes to arguments with his s/o and definitely more than a little emotionally constipated. i went ahead and included 3 different fights, all with varying levels of seriousness lolol. i'm sorry it took so long, i got a little carried away LMAO. there's a bunch of my headcanons sprinkled in here ofc, but maybe i'll make a separate headcanons only post in the future TToTT I hope you like it!!! <3

In a bad mood, baby, come work me out.

You don't ask for much. You don't think you do, at least.

A tidy space meant a tidy mind meant a tidy life. It doesn't seem that hard of a concept to grasp. To you.

Nam-gyu's shoes are strewn lazily across the floor in front of you, shoe prints outlined and punctuated by a wetness that traced their path from start to finish. Rain water pools beneath the soles, dripping like a damn crime scene. You let out a deep sigh, swallowing your anger as you hung your jacket on the rack.

Your eyes flick over the apartment, taking a mental note of every offense and sorting them in the framework of your mind as you built your case. A discarded glass of iced tea on the island, half sipped, then forgotten. A stray sock on the floor, far from its home in the laundry bin overflowing with Nam-gyu's unfolded clothes. A cup of ramen with the chopsticks still in it. You step forward, grabbing a box of snacks on the coffee table. It was too light, nothing but cardboard and air as you shook it. Empty. You slam it into the recycling bin with more effort than necessary.

Your anger simmers, about ready to spill over as you push past the door to your bedroom. He's exactly where you knew he'd be, splayed out lazily across the bed in shorts and a loose shirt, one hand pillowing his head while the other gripped his phone.

"Nam-gyu."

He hums in vague acknowledgment, eyes still trained on his phone. You swipe at it, knocking it out of his hand, watching his face bloom with a mix of confusion and anger as it tumbles onto his chest, narrowly missing his face.

He curls his lip. "The hell is your problem?"

"Your shoes."

"My shoes," he responds flatly.

You suck in a breath. "In the middle of the floor. Dripping."

He rolls his eyes at you and puncutates it with a scoff. "My god. You're so dramatic."

You throw your arms out. "Is it that hard to wipe them and put them on the rack?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says. Dismissal. "I'll do it later, relax."

"You will not do it later."

He exhales, a hand dragging down his face like you're the one exhausting him. "Shit, you're so uptight sometimes. It's just a little mess."

You scoff. "A little mess that you leave sitting there for days!"

He grunts, the only sign that he heard you, before turning over onto his side to unlock his phone again.

Your eye twitches.

Fine.

The next morning, you don't put your makeup away after getting ready for work. Your cups populate the apartment, gathering on every surface like a small village. Your jackets find homes on the couch, the floor, the backs of the few chairs you two had. A stray sock joins his on the ground. Then a shirt. A pair of underwear. Fuck it. You add another sock for good measure.

It only takes two days for Nam-gyu to break. He catches you on the way to the bathroom, his hand digging into your waist as he whips you around, interrupting your plans to continue building the ongoing crime scene of makeup in the sink.

"Cut it the fuck out."

You smile. "I don't know what you mean."

He narrows his eyes, jaw clenching. "Oh my god, you're insane. I get it, okay? Fuck." His hand goes up to rub at his temples for a moment before dragging slowly down his face in defeat.

He points past you at the bathroom sink surrounded in puffs of eyeshadow and smears of foundation. "Deal with... that. I'll get the rest of it."

You stand there, biting back a smile as he lets out an exasperated sigh, pushing up his sleeves and tucking his bangs behind his ears before leaning down to tackle the mess—half you and half him. You're about to tease him when his eyes zero in on something on the ground. He picks it up with a smirk, holding it up in the air in front of you. It's your underwear.

"Honestly?" He looks away from you for a moment, his eyes dragging over it for too long, as if inspecting every twist of the lace. "I don't really mind if you keep leaving these around." He raises his eyebrows at you as a grin stretches across his face. You roll your eyes with a disgusted scoff, but you don't care, not really.

He opens his mouth to say something more, but you're already shutting the bathroom door behind you with a click.

You lean against the sink, hands gripping the cool marble as you let out a sigh of relief. Victory.

---

The next time you fight, it's under the pretense of something fun. You'd complained about how little time the two of you had spent together in the past week. Every time you were home, he was at work. Every time he was home, you were at work— or too exhausted from said work to do anything.

So he proposed a compromise. A night out together at the nightclub, he'd said. A nice way to spend time with each other even when he was on the clock. Like 'take your kid to work' day, except the 'kid' was his annoyed girlfriend. And the 'work' was a shady nightclub filled with too many loud, intoxicated people. And the 'day' was actually a night choking on smoke and sweat and too much noise that stretched way too long, like a guest overstaying their welcome.

You lean against Nam-gyu, staring out into the crowd of people as he tangles in conversation with another one of the club's regular VIPs. You found your head spinning from the revolving door of people that he'd spoken to all night. You wonder how someone as naturally introverted and—rough as him could stand this job.

You listen in, attention flitting in and out as they spoke. He says something so out of character that it catches you off guard. You let out an amused puff of air. He's too animated, too bubbly, too eager to please people that barely know his name. For what it was worth, he was certainly one hell of an actor. Anything to get the guests—and the drugs—coming over and over again, you suppose.

It's not long before you feel his warmth inch away from your body. An alarm. You look up, and his hands are already on your shoulders, rubbing quickly up and down in a way that signals 'hey, I'm about to do something that you probably don't want me to do, but I'm gonna do it anyways'. Your mouth is already opening to complain, but he beats you to it.

"I'm gonna step out for a second, okay?" He's not looking at you. He leans in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "This guy is offering me some good shit. Gotta take it. He's real important."

He brushes the ghost of a kiss to the back of your head, no doubt an attempt to placate your already building annoyance, but it barely registers. His hands pick up speed on your shoulders, rubbing the last bit of warmth into you before he's pulling away, smiling with enthusiasm as he leaves to pump more chemicals into his body.

You let your head tip back as your eyes shut. Nam-gyu never ceases to amaze you with just how many bad decisions he can make in one night. The air around you hums with music, closing in on your little spot by the bar. You drum your fingers against the counter, trying and failing to convince yourself that you're having fun.

You're about to stand—go outside to get some air maybe—when someone slips into the seat behind you, filling Nam-gyu's spot.

"Hey."

You startle a bit, not expecting the sudden conversation.

It's a man dressed in all black, a silver chain glinting against his collarbone. He smells like smoke and beer. Based on his attire, it's not hard to deduce that this is one of Nam-gyu's coworkers, another promoter, you were sure.

You nod at him politely, not really sure what to expect but not wanting to be rude, either. It'd be best not to cause problems with anyone working alongside your boyfriend, you figure. "Hello."

He's nice enough, asking you about how your night was going, what other clubs you'd been to, what kind of drinks you like.

Your face softens into a smile as the conversation continues, your initial suspicion simmering down and settling into something resembling ease as you realize he's just another guy on the clock doing his job: promoting the club.

He leans over, taking his phone out to show you something, and that's when you notice just how close he'd gotten to you since he sat down. You inch away slightly but still listen politely as he pitches one of the club's themed parties.

You nod your head with a vague interest as he scrolls through his photo gallery. Although you were never much into clubbing, you could admit that some of the events looked kind of cool. As he continues going through the photos, one in particular—a Valentine's night—catches your eye. You lean in, and your shoulders brush at the movement.

"That one's cute," you say, pointing at it as you take in the background details. Pink strobe lights, heart balloons, and rose bouquets. A small smile tugs at your lips as you imagine Nam-gyu in his work outfit, his sleeves rolled up and hair tucked behind his ears, knee-deep in a pile of cutesy, pink decorations. The thought brought some color to your cheeks. You'd have to bring it up to him later. Maybe that would be a more fun night for you to attend with him.

Unbeknowst to you, the man beside you was in the middle of taking your statement the completely wrong way. He raises his eyebrows, studying the pink dusting your cheeks and the way your face focused in on his phone screen. He scoots even closer, testing. When you don't react, he reaches out an arm, slowly draping over you as his hand finds its way to your shoulder. His grip on you is light, not forceful, not trapping, but you still stiffen at the contact.

"You think so?" he says, a smirk on his face. He ducks down so he's eye level with you. Too close. "Hey, if you promise me you'll go to our next one, I'm sure I can get you a discount," he brings his phone up again, tapping quickly until he's at the 'contacts' screen, "here, let me get your number so you can—"

You shrink back sheepishly, realizing that you have to nip this interaction in the bud. He looks at you, confusion written across his face, but he lets his arm fall to his side.

"Uh, sorry—do you know Nam-gyu?" you ask, thinking it was as good a time as any to bring him up.

He raises his eyebrows at the sudden shift in topic. "Nam-gyu...? Yeah. I work with him." A flash of recognition. His eyes widen. "Oh. Shit—are you the girl he came in with?"

You nod, a polite smile returning to your face as the man immediately retracts from you, an apologetic look on his face.

You open your mouth to speak, "Yeah, he's my—" Boyfriend, you try to say, but you're cut off by a rush of hands looping at your waist, tugging you backwards into a tight hold.

The familiar rumble of Nam-gyu's voice fills your ears as he leans over you. You twist around, looking up to see his face, both startled and relieved at his sudden entrance. He's staring down at you lazily through half-lidded eyes, and you can see how blown out his pupils are, even in the dim light. You barely have time to react or make a snarky comment before he's pressing his lips to yours, earning a small noise of surprise.

The kiss is welcome until a hand drifts to your chin, tilting you upwards, deeper, drifting into something that felt a little too intimate to be doing in a public space.

Remembering your audience, you pull away, a gentle hand on his chest acting as a barrier between the two of you. His coworker is looking at the two of you, his expression both sheepish and embarrassed, like he was intruding on something he shouldn't be— and honestly, he kind of was, what with the way Nam-gyu was glowering at him.

He stands up, giving Nam-gyu an apologetic nod as he clears his throat, hands flying to his pockets as he prepares to leave.

Nam-gyu smiles, nodding curtly back at him, but you know him well enough to recognize the tension in his jaw, the ingenuity in his smile. "Hey, man."

"Hey." He looks off to the side and then back again. "My bad, man. I didn't know she—"

"I think I can handle this one from here," Nam-gyu says, cutting him off with a barely disguised edge in his voice. There's a squeeze at your waist, a hand on your shoulder. "You can go find some other chicks to bother, right?" He cocks his head to crowd of people gathered in the center of the club, a small, mocking laugh leaving his lips. "I'm sure one of them will fuck you."

You recoil at his tone—and his gross implication, hand going up to lightly smack at his chest. You wonder if the drugs were cutting off the circulation to his brain.

"Nam-gyu!" you hiss, but he doesn't look at you.

His coworker curls his lip, eyes narrowing. "Jesus, dude. I said my bad. I didn't realize she was with you, alright?" He shook his head, turning around and promptly removing himself from the situation. He shot one last look at the two of you over his shoulder, returning the glare that Nam-gyu was still giving him.

Once his back fully disappears into the crowd, you stand up, knocking Nam-gyu's hands off of you as you fix him with a stare.

"What the hell was that?" you deadpan, arms crossing. "He literally said he was sorry."

"'What the hell was that?'" he mocks, his voice climbing a few octaves to match yours. He snorts, ignoring the frustration coloring your face. "I could ask you the same damn thing." He leans down, a hand drifting to the nape of your neck as he crowds into your personal space. "So. What were you two talking about? You seemed real interested." His tone dips low into something icy, accusatory.

You scoff at him, explaining how the conversation was friendly, how he was unaware of your status as a couple, how he instantly backed off at the first sign that you were uncomfortable—

But Nam-gyu ignores you, his hands travelling over your body until they find a home at your shoulders. He spins you around, and you let him, exhaustion hitting you as you realize that your statements were going in one ear and out the other. He rubs at your arms yet again as he pushes you forward, making you walk with him as he leads you to one of the side rooms—a VIP room, you come to realize.

"C'mon," he says, voice thick with whatever drug he'd just taken, "got s'more guests to entertain in here, and you get to come with me."

You roll your eyes. "Yayyy." You continue to count down the minutes left in his shift, but something told you that he was in the mood to clock in some over time.

The lounge is nice, spacious. It's at least a bit quieter than it is out in the main area, a perk you're somewhat thankful for as you adjust yourself on the couch. The guy from earlier is there too. You'd nodded at him when the two of you entered, small and polite and slightly apologetic. He ignored you, presumably for his own sake. You don't blame him.

The night continues, and you're silent, not really wanting to get in the way or be dragged into the conversation. You lean closer to Nam-gyu, craving his contact despite how annoying he's been. It wasn't exactly easy for you to relax in a room full of supposedly 'very important people' that you didn't know, all smiles and raucous laughter as they smoked and drank and huffed whatever came their way.

You were never the biggest fan of the world your boyfriend operated in, surrounded by substances and fast people with fast money that seemed to move quicker than their minds could make decisions, but it's what you signed up for when you got into a relationship with him, after all.

He's chatting it up with a particularly loud, and—unique-looking guy to his left, two girls practically melted into him at both sides. Goes by 'Thanos', you come to find out. A famous rapper with a lot of status and—from how he was speaking—a whole lot of money. His purple hair draws your attention, making his presence impossible to ignore in the confined space, that and his peculiar way of speaking, puncutated by random bursts of english.

You carefully snake a hand around Nam-gyu's arm, wanting to be closer but not wanting to interrupt. He gives you a small glance before brushing you off, you shoot him a look but then his arm is looping around your waist, pulling you into his side. He adjusts your legs so they're draped over his lap, and you redden, feeling like it was the slightest bit too much.

The others at the table didn't seem to mind, though, too caught up in their own conversations to care about your inner turmoil.

You slowly relax as he returns to his conversation. His hands are warm against you, one resting gently at the small of your back, the other rubbing light circles into the exposed skin of your leg. Nam-gyu was a touchy guy, something that you'd gotten used to in your time together. Always a hand at your shoulder, fingers ghosting against your hip, an arm slung lazily across your lap. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

It was fine at first, a comfort amidst the torturously long shift. His touches were soft, subtle, light, a welcome feeling.

Then, it escalates. He laughs at a particularly stupid joke from Thanos, too loud, too eager. It sounds fake. Whether it was due to the drugs or his desire to get into Thanos' good graces, you weren't sure. Either way, you don't have time to dwell on it before he's pulling you again, closer, until you're on his lap, his arms locking against your middle.

This, you conclude, was most definitely too much. You're quiet for a few moments as Nam-gyu's laughter winds down and Thanos turns to accept a joint from one of his lady-friends, a momentary calm falling over the room with the distraction.

You take the gap in conversation as an opportunity, fidgeting in your spot as you try to inch off of his lap. "Nam-gyu, can I get down?" you whisper.

He looks at you, his eyes blank as a playful smile creeps onto his face, but there's a tinge of something else there.

"What?" He lets out a breathy laugh, raising his eyebrows. His fingers ghost over your waist, your ribs, the slope of your neck. Then, he's tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ears, smiling at you like a lovesick fool. You balk at the attention. He wets his lips before biting down on them. Eyeing you with a sudden razor-sharp focus. His voice comes out even, "You bored of me all of a sudden?"

You stare at him, incredulous. "What is with you right now?" He's not normally like this—touchy, yes, but not this... animated.

Nam-gyu just chews on his cheek, thinking for a moment before ultimately choosing to ignore your question. He pulls you closer until you're flush against his chest, your face burning red with embarrassment as he continues to hold you, his touch skimming dangerously close to indecency. You turn to the side, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze. At least he was warm, a silver lining.

Across the table, Nam-gyu locks eyes with his coworker, a silent battle still simmering in the weight of their stares.

This—his performance—was for everyone to see.

For him to see.

It wasn't even about you anymore. Just Nam-gyu's pride, his desire to win, even when no one else was playing the game.

A small misunderstanding, of which an apology had already been issued, it's fairly easy to let go, but Nam-gyu was never a fan of 'easy'.

The night pushes on, as does he. He whispers things you'd deem not very appropriate for company, much closer than necessary as he breathes against your neck, lips skimming the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. You mumble back a response, his fingers toying with the strap of your dress.

His behavior finally comes to a head a few moments later. Everyone at the table is chilled out, seemingly in a haze, likely from the weed and whatever else was spread out on the table. You wonder if it was finally about time for you to shove Nam-gyu in the car and go home.

Then, his hand is on your chin, guiding you to look up at him and fixing you with a stare that lasts a few beats too long, and then he's leaning down, closer, too close, pressing a kiss to your lips that he tries to deepen. It's dizzying, overwhelming, and entirely unlike him. You quickly break the contact, not giving him the opportunity to up the intensity. Not in front of all these people.

Thanos whistles from his seat, long and drawn out. It makes you want to melt into the couch.

Your face is red as you stand, suddenly aware of all the eyes on you.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you say, voice coming out in a flurry as you turn away from him.

Behind you, he meets eyes with his coworker for the last time that night, a cocky, infuriating smirk on his face.

He picks up the jacket that you'd left on the couch, throwing it over his shoulder before tossing a lazy 'goodbye' over his shoulders as he follows you. The performance was over.

The silence on the car ride home is suffocating, the engine humming beneath the tension. The energy shift is palpable—one second he was all over you, whispering into your ear and raking his fingers over every expanse of exposed skin, and then, nothing.

Nam-gyu had sobered up enough to drive, thankfully, because you were in no mood to do so. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, his other arm leaning out the window. His posture is lazy, leaning back in his seat with his legs spread out in a way that appears casual, but the way his jaw is set, the tension in his knuckles where he grips the steering wheel, the effort he expends to not meet the stare you're boring into the side of his head—it all betrays him, how he really feels.

His lips are set into a thin, irritated line as he drives. His eyes flick to the radio, and his hand leaves the steering wheel for a moment as he turns it on, upbeat pop music filling the car but doing little to mask the fact that he was simmering, barely keeping his temper in check.

You ran out of patience from waiting for him to speak first. "So. You done being weird now?"

Nothing.

"Nam-gyu."

Still nothing.

You let out a small huff that trails off into a laugh. "Wow. So you can run your mouth all night, but now all of a sudden you're quiet?"

His fingers tighten on the steering wheel at that, his pointer finger twitching as he taps against it, the subtle clinking of his ring against the wheel queueing you in to how close you were to getting a reaction.

You roll your eyes. "You're such a fucking child, sometimes. You know that?"

"Shut up."

Your eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"I said," he hisses, eyes narrowing as his grip on the wheel tightens, "shut up." There's something in his voice that makes you listen. It's low, firm, clipped in a way that tells you he's barely keeping himself from snapping.

You study him, taking note of the way he bites at his lip, the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows hard, and the way his hand flexes against its resting spot by the window.

You huff, turning to face the window and mirroring his posture.

Fine.

Soon, he's shifting the car into park, but he doesn't move. Doesn't turn off the engine.

Just sits there.

You don't turn around to face him. He doesn't ask you to, either.

The low rumble is the only sound between the two of you.

You didn't want to be the first one out of the car, and clearly, he didn't want to be either. It was like you two were in a standoff—a childish, petty standoff.

The silence is pointed, buzzing under the weight of all the things you weren't saying to each other. He lets out a sharp exhale, and you feel his stare on the back of his head. You refuse to turn around, refuse to give him the satisfaction.

You feel it, the way he's sitting there waiting for you to break the silence, as if this was somehow your fault and it was your responsibility to rectify it—waiting for you to sigh and grab his hand or say something snarky to give him an excuse to argue with you. It doesn't come.

He's the first to break, clearly tired from his shift, not to mention hungry for something to put in his body other than drugs ands cheap beer. He lets out a scoff before finally shifting the key in the ignition, shutting off the comforting thrum of the engine. He throws his door open, slamming it behind him as he fishes the apartment keys out of his pocket, not sparing you a glance as he walks towards the building.

You roll your eyes as you follow him, not like you had much choice.

The apartment is dim when you step inside, the only light coming from the fridge where Nam-gyu is standing, his body haloed in white as he pulls out a few snacks.

You flick on the light, ruining the dramatic environment he was building. You hang up your jacket and kick off your shoes, shutting the door behind you with a click as you fix him with a stare.

He turns, popping a few bites of something in his mouth before he leans against the counter, not meeting your eyes and instead staring at the wall across from him as if it had somehow become the most interesting thing in the world.

You suck in a breath, a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion swirling inside you. In all honesty, you just want to go the fuck to sleep.

"Nam-gyu."

Nothing.

Fuck, you hated this. Hated when he clammed up and backed himself into a corner, turning his nose up at you and forcing you to drag the issue out of him like you were pulling teeth, like he was a damn child. Because why would he ever just tell you what the problem was so you two could talk it out? That'd be way too easy for the both of you.

You drag a hand down your face, pushing past him and moving towards the bedroom, your patience running extremely, extremely thin.

"Jesus, you're exhausting."

His lip twitches at that. "What, running away again?" he says, voice indignant as he steps in front of you, cutting you off.

"Ohhh." You throw your hands up at him, a mocking smirk on your face. "Now you wanna talk."

He closes in on you, so close that you can smell the smoke and chemicals still clinging to his clothes. He looks like he's going to speak, but he doesn't, just presses his lips into a tight, thin line, his expression laced with irritation.

You roll your eyes at the silence. He has no room to talk, and you know it. He knows it too, clear in the way he won't open his mouth.

"If you're gonna throw a temper tantrum every time a guy speaks to me, go ahead. Just leave me out of it." You step back from him, finding your way to the couch. If he wants to act like a dick, fine. Let him.

"I threw a tantrum?" he says, voice laced with something icy as his jaw ticks.

"Yes, Nam-gyu," you say, voice going high as if you were speaking to a child, "a whole fucking scene, actually."

He watches you with silent anger as you fluff up the couch pillows.

You hear a snort behind you. "Oh, sleeping on the couch, huh? Cute."

"Better than sleeping next to you right now."

A beat of silence.

Then— "Fine. Whatever. Do whatever the fuck you want."

He stomps into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

You stare down at your lap, brows furrowed in anger as you gave yourself a moment to calm down. Then, it dawned on you that you were still in the dress you'd worn to the club with makeup still on your face, the only change of clothes being in the room now occupied by your angry boyfriend.

Dammit. You lay against the couch. It's too lumpy. Too cold, without your thick blanket and Nam-gyu's shared body heat. The dress is tight against your skin.

Still, you lay there for a good ten minutes, refusing to fold.

When your efforts to wait him out prove to be fruitless, you let your eyes flutter shut with a sigh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction but knowing that there was no way you were going to get a good night's sleep out here.

Reluctantly, you get to your feet and shuffle quietly to the bedroom door. You linger there for a moment, steeling yourself.

Behind the door, Nam-gyu is laying in bed, clad in only his boxers as he stares up at the ceiling in the dark, his arms crossed over his chest as he drums his fingers anxiously, angrily, against his skin. His work clothes sat in a crumpled heap by the laundry basket, taken off and dumped in a flurry as he waited for you, refusing to get ready for bed before you cut the act and gave in, like you always did. He knew you'd kill him if you found out he'd laid on the bed with outside clothes.

He reaches over to his phone on the night stand, quickly clicking it on before shutting it off again.

Ten minutes. Fuck. How long were you gonna keep this up for?

His body twitches in reluctant defeat, and he's about to get up, swallow his pride to scoop you up from the couch and drag you into bed so he could get some goddamn sleep—but the sound of the door creaking open saves him. He swallows, body going still against the bed as you step inside.

A wave of relief washes through him, and he exhales like he's been holding his breath since the two of you had stepped foot in the car. He quickly recovers, though, a smug expression replacing his initial relief, hiding the fact that he was waiting for you.

You slink across the floor, refusing to make eye contact with him as you push the closet open and search for your pajamas.

"Oh, look who it is," he laughs, propping himself up on his elbows. "Miss me already, huh?"

You don't respond, eyes narrowing as you stack your clothes in a pile next to you. After gathering everything, you stand up and make your way towards the door without shooting him a glance.

You pause, curling your lip as the smell of the nightclub reaches your nose.

"You stink. At least have the decency to shower after the club before you roll around in our bed."

His expression sours behind you as you make your way out.

You shower quickly, half convinced if you took too long that Nam-gyu was going to bust in and try to argue with you again. You dry your hair, pull on your pajamas, and brush your teeth. When you open the door, he's there, sitting on the couch in his boxers. He doesn't look at you as he gets up, nudging you with his shoulder as he makes his way inside.

"Took you long enough," he scoffs.

You roll your eyes.

His shower is quick, rushed. When the door to the bathroom opens, all the steam escapes. He stands in the doorway with his towel clinging loosely to his hips, hair dripping as he shuts the door behind him, his skin pink from the scorching water.

You quickly still on the couch, shutting your eyes as you pretend to be asleep, trying to play it off like you weren't listening intently, waiting for his shower to be over. Waiting for him to crack so you didn't have to actually spend your night on the damn couch.

He lingers in the doorway for a moment, squinting as he zeros in the outline of your body. Then, you hear the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way over, the sliver of light pouring in from the bathroom being his only guide as he towers over you.

"I know your ass isn't asleep," he says, eyes narrowing as he crouches down next to your face.

You don't react. He wets his lips, mind reeling, searching for his next move.

Then, his hands are gently resting on your side. You swallow, holding your breath in anticipation. The heat of his skin prickles against you, still steamy from his shower, the damp scent of his shampoo filling the space between you.

And then—his fingers press into your sides, and he's tickling you.

You yelp, eyes flying open and body jerking violently as his fingers dig into your ribs, mapping over every ticklish spot on your body that he'd come to know in the time you two had been together.

"N-Nam-gyu!" you try to yell at him, but it trails off into shaky laughter, his touch relentless.

You can't hold it in, after all, who could? And then you're a red, laughing mess beneath him, your hands coming out from where they were pillowing your head a few moments prior, trying-- and failing, to get him off of you.

You try to twist away from him, but he follows, grinning now.

"Oh?" he says, his voice mockingly sweet, "I thought you were asleep?"

He clambers on top of you, water dripping from his hair and onto your dry, warm pajamas. You want to yell at him for not drying off completely before he came out, but you can't get it out between your laughter.

He's laughing now, too, his grin growing wider, and this time, there's no venom there, no smug satisfaction, no anger. It's just him and you. Giggling in the almost-darkness on your lumpy couch in your small apartment, tucked away in your own little pocket of the world.

"You—asshole!" But you can't stop laughing, grinning so hard it hurts, despite how badly you wanted to be mad at him. "I hate you!"

He shakes his head, eyes not leaving you for a second. "No, you don't." He smirks, pressing one last ticklish squeeze in your side, before relenting and taking a seat at your legs.

You're breathless, gasping and heart racing, still half-trapped beneath him.

He stares at you for a moment. His grin softens. Yours does, too.

He knows he'd been an asshole this whole night. Knew it before and after the drugs had worn off.

And though he still doesn't say it—I'm sorry—as if his body won't allow him to say it—he leans forward, hair still dripping onto your face, and he nudges his forehead against yours. Just once.

You let out a shaky, exasperated breath, finally able to compose yourself.

Your hand goes up to rest on his bare shoulder, a beat passes, and then you're tugging him gently down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"You," you say, shutting your eye as a droplet narrowly misses it, "are the biggest fucking baby alive."

He grunts.

You laugh, amused. In that moment, you know you'd won.

"Jealous little freak."

That earns you a huff.

The two of you sit there for a while, coming down from the moment. Once you can no longer stand the water dripping onto you, you shove him off.

"Hurry up and get ready for bed. I'm tired."

There's a ghost of a smile on his face as you push past him and collapse onto the bed.

Soon, he flops down next to you, the bed shifting under his added weight.

Silence.

He turns his head. A beat.

"So. You wanna fuck? Or..."

You exhale sharply through your nose in lieu of a response, rolling over to curl into his chest.

You press a kiss to his jaw as he drapes a hand across your waist, your voice sweet and laced with sleep as you lean into him, breath brushing against the shell of his ear as you whisper, "Go the hell to sleep."

He snorts, and soon, you're both drifting off into your own worlds.

---

The third time, it's not petty, not over a bout of jealousy.

It starts over money.

Of course it does. It always does.

You stand over him, trying to rub away the tension in your temples as he scrolls through his phone, ignoring you like he has all the time in the world.

"Seriously? You spent how much?" Your face is hot. "Are the drugs that good? They have to be, with how much money you throw away over them!"

Nam-gyu doesn't even look up at you. He's slouched, legs spread against the couch as he scoffs. "Why the fuck do you care?"

Your eyes widen. "Why do I— Nam-gyu, are you actually serious right now?"

He exhales sharply, shutting his eyes for a few seconds, as if this wasn't an extremely important and serious conversation. The sight makes your blood boil. He shuts off his phone and tosses it onto the coffee table with a clack.

"Look. I made the money—so I spent the money." He looks up at you then, his expression screaming that he'd rather be anywhere ot her than here. "I don't think it's that hard to understand."

"Yeah? With what fucking rent money, genius?" you spit back, your pulse quickening at his condescending tone.

He narrows his eyes at you, jaw flexing. Dangerous. "I said." He stands, looking down at you now. "I'll handle it." He presses two fingers to your chest, shoving you back lightly, a warning. "Now can you get the fuck off my back?"

You laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Really? When? Before or after the landlord's knocking on our door?" Your voice rises, the anger bubbling in your chest, getting ready to spill over. "Fuck, Nam-gyu! You always do this! Blow through your money—our money—like it's nothing and then act like I'm the problem for calling you out on it!"

"Oh yeah?" he says, stepping closer. His neck is tense. "And you do what? SIt there and bitch at me like you're my fucking mother?"

The words sting, but you don't back down. You open your mouth to fire back, but he's already speaking, practically yelling now.

"I was working. What the hell do you want me to do?"

"Working?" You bark out a laugh, mocking, incredulous. "That's what you call working? Getting fucked up and blowing your money on drugs for people that won't even remember your damn name?"

He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he bites his lip. You're sure he's about to explode. It doesn't scare you.

"It's my job!" he yells, lips curling into a sneer. "What, you think you're an expert on my job now?"

"Your job is to promote the club, not snort half the fucking inventory!"

His face darkens, and something ugly twists in his features. You can't deny the way your hands shake at your sides.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too," you spit back.

The air shifts, the silence hanging between you two heavy and suffocating.

He shakes his head, looking off to the side like you were being ridiculous as he runs a hand through his hair. "You love doing this shit, don't you? Acting like you're so much better than me, like you've got everything figured out." He juts his chin out at you. "I bet you were just waiting for a reason to fucking lecture me again, huh?"

"Oh my god, Nam-gyu, this isn't about me. This is about your reckless spending habits—"

"And there it is! It's always my fault, isn't it? I'm always the villain, the big, bad piece of shit ruining your life. A screw-up that you have to fix." He smirks. "Go ahead. Call me a screw-up. I know you fucking want to."

You groan. "Do you hear yourself right now? I've never called you a screw-up! That's all in your head."

"Oh, yeah, but you sure as hell think it," he sneers, taking a step towards you. You don't move, determined to stand your ground. "You're always talking down to me like I'm an idiot. Like i'm just some loser that you have to babysit, because you're such a saint for putting up with someone like me." His eyes flash with anger. "You just wanna control me."

"Oh?" you huff, eyes narrowing. "So that's what this is about? Your ego?" Nam-gyu's jaw flexes at that, daring you to continue. "I don't wanna control you, Nam-gyu! I want to build a life with you! But you just keep sabatoging yourself—blowing through our savings on useless shit and poisoning your body while I try to save you!"

He laughs, a bitter, hollow sound. "I knew it!" He turns around and walks away from you, hands going up to tug at his hair as he paces across the floor. "You're just like every other bitch I've ever met. Always running your fucking mouth—acting like you know better. Acting like I need to be saved."

Your anger comes to a head, simmering and simmering until it was at the edge, just about ready to boil over. You step forward, cutting him off. "Maybe because you fucking do!"

He pauses, his face going blank as he stares at you. For a second—just a second—he looks wounded. Like you'd slapped him.

Then— "Oh, fuck off." He spits the words out like it's poison, hands falling from their place in his hair and leaving it a tousled mess. "You wanna 'save' me? What are you, my fucking mother?" His fingers twitch at his side. Then he scoffs, shaking his head at you, and a bitter smile stretches across his face. "No. You're not like my mom. You're worse. At least she knew when to shut the fuck up."

That did it.

Your anger boils over finally, coursing through every vein and artery until your body moves faster than you can think.

You slap him.

The sound cracks through the apartment like a gunshot.

He stumbles back, eyes wide and lips parted in genuine shock. He says nothing as he brings a hand up to his cheek, fingers pressing against the red mark blooming against his cheek. He's quiet for a moment.

Then: a laugh. Sharp and cold, slashing through the silence.

"Oh. Hah. There she is." He grins, but his eyes are wild. "The real you. The one who pretends to be so mature and understanding, but the second I hit a nerve, you turn into a hysterical, emotional bitch."

Your heart is slamming against your ribs now, and there's something hot pushing behind your eyes.

"I hate you." Your voice was shaking.

He doesn't flinch, just stands there, staring at you, but his fingers twitch, something cold taking form in his chest like a stone.

"Good." His voice is low, cold. Fake. "Then why the fuck are you still here?"

Something inside you snaps. Because underneath all the anger, you can hear what he's really saying.

Why haven't you left me yet?

But you're too furious to give him the reassurance you know he desperately wants—the reassurance he's waiting for with bated breath and clenched fists.

You won't give him the satisfaction.

You push past him, throwing the door open to the bedroom, one hand grabbing frantically at your clothes, the other clumsily fishing in your pocket for your phone. He follows you, suddenly silent.

You hear his breathing from the doorway. Heavy. Unsteady. Panicked. You pretend not to notice.

You dial your best friend, quickly bringing it up to your ear to hide the screen from Nam-gyu, hands trembling with anger.

"Hey," you say as soon as your friend picks up, voice shaking, "can you come get me?"

Nam-gyu's blood runs cold, something icy snaking through him and squeezing his chest like a vice.

Despite it all, he still finds a way to be an ass, another sharp laugh clawing its way out of his throat. "You're serious? That's all it takes?" He steps forward, his indifference betrayed by his breathing, fast and raggedy. "What, been waiting for an opportunity to finally be rid of me, you whore?"

You turn to face him, your hands going still as you lock eyes with him, eyes burning.

"You don't mean that." Your voice comes out so, so small.

Nam-gyu's breath stutters, disarmed by the way you're looking at him.

You see his face rewind before you, and for a second, he's the boy you met back in university. Vulnerable, unsure, timid, scared—and you saw it. A flicker of panic and regret across his face, knowing he'd pushed it the slightest bit too far. Knowing you were at the edge. It was up to him to pull you back.

And for a second, you really believe it. That he will.

But then—

Ego.

His pride.

His biggest fucking downfall.

"Nah," he scoffs, looking away as he feigns indifference. "I meant every word."

Your stomach twists. You grab your bag and pull yourself to your feet. You won't cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

He turns around, leaning against the doorframe and forcing you to watch his back while his face goes slack, teeth grit behind his lips as he holds his breath. "So. Are you leaving, or not?"

You push past him, bag in hand as you make your way to the door. He follows you, watching as you pull on your coat. He doesn't reach for you, doesn't stop you. His expression doesn't change, but the way his throat bobs—the way his hands shake despite his best efforts to hide them in his pockets—it tells you everything.

And this time, you don't have it in you to read between the lines, to decipher the stupid act he's putting up. All because he can't be an adult and say what he really means.

You grab your bag from the floor, a ding popping up on your phone: a text from your friend saying that she was outside.

Your hand is resting on the door knob, twisting, when his voice comes out—low, cracking.

"You're really gonna do this?"

You don't look at him. Just push through and slam the door shut.

He doesn't follow.

And just like that, Nam-gyu was alone. He lets out a shaky breath that he forgot he was holding, gripping at his sides like it would keep him from falling apart.

Suddenly, despite your absence, everything is much too loud. Louder than before. The hum of the refrigerator. The buzz of the wiring in the walls. The padding of his footsteps against the hardwood as he threw himself onto the couch, his legs suddenly too shaky for him to stand.

"Whatever," he says to the oppressive silence. "She'll be back." His voice cracks, unsure. Like he doesn't even believe the words as he's saying them.

Tension crawls up his back, settling into his limbs like a concrete block. He sits there for longer than he should've, an invisible weight pushing down on his shoulders. He won't say it, but he's waiting for you.

You don't come back that night.

The next day passes by him in a blur, thick with alcohol and chemicals. He's in the bedroom, his phone on the floor next to him. He pushes his palms against his temples, quick gasps burning his lungs.

His fingers twitch, exhausted with the effort of keeping still, but he won't do it. He won't text you. Won't call you. He won't let himself. His heart pounds craters into his chest as he sucks in a deep, labored breath.

His own words from the day before echo in his head. He'd wanted to push you, break you down, make you feel as small as he did. And it worked.

And now?

Now you were gone.

It was fine. It was fine. He pulls himself to his feet, something icy creeping up his spine. Nothing some weed couldn't fix.

As he stumbles to his feet, he catches himself wishing that he'd been scheduled for work today. Something to distract him. The thought makes him laugh, hollow and flat.

His hands shake as he struggles with his lighter, trying and failing to get a flame. He curses, arms dropping to his sides as he leans against the couch. Fuck this.

He slides down the couch until he's spilling onto the floor in a heap. There's something hot and wet pushing behind his eyes now, betraying him as it finally falls. He swipes at his face, biting back the frail noises threatening to spill from his throat. He doesn't want to hear it. His hands make fists in the material of his shirt, and he hardens his jaw, forcing himself to breathe slowly as his mind short circuits.

It was fine.

You'd be back tonight. He was sure of it. He tries the lighter again, and this time, it catches.

You crash at your friend's place. She doesn't ask questions, and you don't offer answers. It wasn't like this was the first time you fled to her house after a fight with Nam-gyu had gone sour. Your friend's guest room was practically yours, at this point.

The bed is comfortable, warm, but it does nothing to calm the threads of anxiety twitching through your limbs. You grab your phone, checking for the fifth time to make sure that it wasn't on silent.

It wasn't, and as you thought, there was nothing new. No text, no call. You let out a puff of air and continue to pretend like you don't care.

A few moments later, you turn over, fumbling for another pillow in the darkness. You hold your breath, lip trembling as you squeeze it tight, biting back your tears. He didn't deserve it. To make you cry.

"Fucking asshole."

Unfortunately for you, he was right.

The next day, you do your best to stay away. Enjoy your friend's company. Calm the images of Nam-gyu's limp body flickering through your mind like a cruel recording on loop.

Then— "I'm sorry," you say, ducking your head at your friend. She pauses the movie the two of you are watching, and she doesn't startle, as if she already knows what you're going to say next. "Could you drive me home?" Your voice is sheepish, embarrassed, as you keep your eyes on the floor.

You can almost hear Nam-gyu's voice. 'How typical. Knew you'd come crawling back.'

Your friend just nods, keeping her thoughts on the matter to yourself. For that, you're thankful.

Soon, you're rounding the corner, fumbling with your keys before finally pushing past the door, betraying yourself yet again.

And he was there, right where you left him.

He’s half-slouched on the ground, his back against the couch as he stares up at the ceiling. He'd shoved the coffee table out of the way to make room for himself. His limbs are outstretched on the floor, loose and lazy. Like a cat, you think. It would've been cute, had it been under different circumstances.

A joint burns low between his pointer finger and thumb, dangling dangerously close to the rug at the foot of the couch. He brings it to his lips and takes a long drag. A stray piece of ash falls from the end and burns black into the plush fabric. A permanent stain. A reminder.

The room reeks of weed, a cloud of smoke floating lazily around the ceiling in a slow-motion circuit. The smell curls in your lungs like the argument still lingering between you. You don’t even care.

He didn't look at you when the door opened. Not when the door shut. Not when you cover your nose and mouth with your sleeve, quickly throwing the window open and ushering the hazy cloud outside as if it had the agency to listen.

He doesn’t blink when you come to a stop at his feet, your shadow falling over him like a blanket. He continues to stare up at the water stained ceiling, regarding it with a calm indifference, like a painting he couldn’t understand.

Your eyes rake over him, taking in every inch of his sorry state. He’s in the same clothes you last saw him in, shirt wrinkled and pants twisted low on his hips. His hair stuck out oddly like he’d just woken up from a nap. His eyes are red and swollen, but you know it’s not just from the weed. He barely acknowleges you, save for a lazy flick of his eyes.

You kneel next to him and and press a palm to the warmth of his chest. His face is blank, even, his mouth pressed into a thin line, but his heartbeat betrays him, hammering beneath your fingers like it was trying to get out. A bird making panicked circles on the floor of an open cage.

He lets out a quiet laugh, but it’s weak and tired, bordering on something desperate.

"You stink," you mutter.

Nam-gyu lets out a humorless snort. "Then leave." But he doesn't mean it, not really. His heart quickens beneath your fingers, no doubt scared that you actually might.

But you don't. Instead, you pluck the joint from his fingers and stub it out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

He blows smoke into your face. You don’t blink.

Your fist closes around the fabric of his shirt just above his heart, the soft cotton spilling out between the gaps of your fingers as you clamber on top of him.

He doesn’t react. Doesn’t meet your eyes. You lean down, tilting your head forward so that your foreheads touch. Your hair falls from behind your shoulders, draping over the two of you in a gentle curtain.

The smell of weed is thick as you press a kiss to his cheek. Your free hand comes up to cup his face, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly before straying to the nape of his neck. His lips part weakly, as if he's going to say something snarky, something mean, to remind you of the other day.

Your breath is hot against the shell of his ear as you speak, voice barely above a whisper, “Just... Shut up, okay?” You press another kiss to the top of his forehead, pleading. Soon, your face finds its home in the crook of his neck. You breathe him in, the smell of his skin grounding you, still managing to reach you through the haze of smoke and chemicals. "Please."

And for the first time in a while, he listens.

Nam-gyu says nothing. Not when your fingers comb through his mess of hair. Not when you're tugging his limp body up, up, pushing him—stumbling and dazed—into the shower. Not when you're peeling off his clothes and yours, switching on the faucet and rubbing circles of soap onto the gentle slope of his back as the shower fills with steam.

He won't tell you how much he appreciates it. He won't tell you a lot of things.

He's quiet as he pulls on his pajamas and sinks into the bed like a stone. Relief washes through him as the bed shifts beneath your added weight. His shoulders ease up for the first time since you'd left, though he won't tell you that, either.

The next morning passes like any other. There is no sorry. No kisses pressed to your neck or hands looped around your waist. You weren't expecting it, anyways. You don't dwell on it. Not like you had the time, to. Instead, you roll out of bed, shake the sleep from your body, pull your work clothes on, and start your day.

Later that day, when your key clicks in the lock and your legs cross the threshold, the apartment smells different.

Not weed, not chemicals, not the lingering smell of smoke.

Your eyes trail across the apartment, taking note of everything. The counters are wiped down, the floors swept. Even the clutter that usually lingered around—his clothes, empty bottles, dirty dishes—gone.

You raise your eyebrows as you hang the jacket by the door.

You lean against the counter, unable to keep the look of pure surprise off of your face as you watch his back. Nam-gyu is cooking, a novelty from when you two first got together. Before he'd sunk deeper into his drug habit.

"What's this?"

He doesn't look at you. "Food."

"Wow," you press, testing. He looks at you over his shoulder before turning back to the pot on the stove. "You? Cooking?" You lean in closer, trying to catch his eyes. "Am I dreaming right now?"

He shrugs, stirring the pot. "You always bitch about me eating. So I'm eating."

You purse your lips, deciding not to comment on his wording.

You can't remember the last time he'd cooked. It was always you. Or takeout. Or you reminding him to eat, that drugs and alcohol weren't enough to make up a healthy diet.

He flicks the stove off and grabs a plate from the cabinet, wordlessly spooning a scoop of freshly cooked rice onto the plate, still steaming. He shoves it into your hands before grabbing another plate for himself. He moves out of the way, gesturing at the pot like it'd inconvenienced him.

"It's still hot," he says blankly. His voice is tight, clipped, but you know it's just his way of masking his nerves. Tiptoeing around you like one wrong word might send you flying out the door again. "Now shut up and eat."

The food was delicous.

It tasted like nostalgia, bringing you back to the early days where he'd always cook for you, butterflies blooming in your stomach as your legs bumped against each other under the table, flirting under the warm kitchen light.

Back when his job was just a job. A 'for now'. Before it tangled and spiraled with his being, melting into him until you weren't sure where it ended and he began, the fuel for his fire, stoking his addictions and anger and insecurities until it grew big and ugly and distorted.

The thought made your chest tighten a bit, so you push it out of your mind, hands readjusting in your lap as you refocus on the movie playing in front of you.

The two of you sit on the couch, the glow of the TV flickering dimly across the walls.

Nam-gyu is beside you, sprawled as usual, his legs spread wide and taking up an offensive amount of space. His fingers drum absentmindedly against his knee, his other hand fidgeting with his ring. He hasn't reached for you all night, but every now and then, you feel his eyes flick toward you.

Like he was waiting.

And then, without a word, he pushes something into your lap.

You startle a bit at the sudden movement. You look down, and your mouth falls open.

A plushie. It's a chubby, white bunny. Soft and cute.

You wonder when he went to the store. You picture him walking up and down the aisles, scanning the shelves and chewing his lip nervously as he decides what to get you. You imagine him checking out, slamming the plushie down on the counter before roughly tapping his card.

Then, you notice the small, black box sitting on its tummy. You almost didn't notice it, blinking down at it in shock.

You pick it up, face incredulous as you turn to him.

"You bought me something?" you say, breathless, as you turn it over in your hands.

He doesn't answer, just keeps his eyes trained on the screen. His leg bounces restlessly, both hands fidgeting with their respective rings.

You sigh, and it's soft, so soft, as something wells up in your chest. "Nam-gyuuu..." you start, leaning towards him.

"Just shut up and take it," he grumbles, still refusing to look at you. "Or don't. I don't care."

You stare at him for a long moment. His ears are pink, just barely hidden behind his long, black hair.

You decide to give him a break and open the box. Inside is a silver chain, dainty, shiny, and exactly your style. It's also real. You lift it out with a gasp.

Nam-gyu doesn't turn his head, but his eyes flick to you for a moment, taking in your reaction. Something in him unclenches.

The pendant hanging off of it is small, but it's beautiful, sturdy. You let it fall against your palm, the silver catching the dim light from the television as you inspect it. It's a star.

You pout, eyes going wide and glossy as you turn to look at him. He exhales sharply. Then, you notice something else in the box, a baggie tucked away in the corner of the velvet lining. You hold it up to the light, trying to see what it is.

It's another star, just as dainty as yours, except somehow smaller.

"Is this an extra one in case I lose mine?" you ask, genuinely curious.

The moment he sees what you're holding, his whole body tenses. His knee stops bouncing, and his fingers freeze. Then, without hesitation, he snatches the bag from your grasp.

"Nothing," he mutters, shoving it deep in his pocket.

You blink. "Did you—" your voice trails off, realization dawning on you. Your heartbeat picks up. "You bought a matching charm?"

Nam-gyu glares at the TV like it'd personally offended him. "Oh my god. I said it's nothing."

You stare at him stunned. He was never the type to do this—sweet, thoughtful things. No, that was too corny for him. And yet he had. He'd gotten two of the same pendant. One for you, and one for himself.

Maybe to add to his own chain. Maybe to turn into a charm for his keyring.

Either way, it meant something. And you knew it.

"Nam-gyuuu," you press, all discretion gone as you cuddled up to his side. You watch his jaw clench as you rub his side, all smiley and starry-eyed. "You wanted us to match?"

"Okay. Shut up." He's tensing up, leaning away from you as he leans into the armrest, but you know for sure that it's all an act now. The plushie at your side and the necklace gleaming on the coffee table was enough proof of that.

But you can't. You can't stop staring at him, at the way his fingers dig into his knee like he's resisting the urge to snatch the whole damn box back from you. He's sulking like a kid caught red-handed.

Your grin widens, head going loopy with love. "Ohhh my goodness," you say, voice dripping with amusement, "you're so cute, Nam-gyu."

His head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing as he finally makes eye contact with you, but there's a color to his face that wasn't there earlier. "Don't start."

But you do start. You lean in, resting your chin on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes at him. "You wanted us to have matching charms? So that even when we're apart, we'll always have a little piece of each other?"

Nam-gyu gorans, tipping his head back against the couch. "Shut the fuck up." But there's no venom in it, not even a drop. Something tells you he might even be enjoying this, in his own way.

"It's like a promise, isn't it?" You sigh dreamily, pushing through the excitement in your chest, but also because you can't help but relish the way he squirms under the attention. "A silent vow that no matter where we go, we'll always be connected. Like two stars floating through space, spinning in a galactic embrace of eternal love—"

"I'm gonna kill myself," he mutters, rubbing his temples. The movie drones on in the background, completely ignored.

You laugh, finally letting up as you nudge him with your shoulder. "You're so romantic," you coo. "Who knew you had such a soft heart under that shitty attitude of yours?"

"I will throw you out that fucking window," he threatens, but it's weak. His ears are red, so red, and he won't meet your gaze.

You let the moment linger, then tilt your head, lowering your voice to something softer. "Thank you," you say, genuine this time. "I love it."

Nam-gyu scoffs, but his knee starts bouncing again. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

But later that night, when you finally slip the necklace on, the bunny plushie sitting gingerly in your lap, you catch him staring.

When you lay down next to Nam-gyu, there's something between you two. Something charged, electric. You don't say anything, but you know it's coming.

When his hand drifts over to you, lingers on your waist, you let it.

Then he's on top of you. His weight presses you into the bed, and you stare back up at him. His touch is soft, gentle, as he brushes the hair away from your face, from your neck. The necklace he bought you is cool against your skin. He stares at it again, touching it gingerly and turning it over in his fingers.

Your breath catches, and then he's leaning down, pressing a kiss to your lips. It's gentle, soft.

It's not like him at all.

That night, it's like a race. Except there’s only one pedestal, and it's a spot reserved just for you. So he's grunting, biting down on his lip as he presses his fingers into the dip of your waist, pushing you closer and closer to the finish line. There’s a ghost of his breath on your neck, a graze of teeth at your collar bone, something sickeningly sweet in your ears— something you likely wouldn't be hearing tomorrow.

Then, you reach the edge, and he’s staring in your eyes, gripping your chin so you can’t look away. He dips low and smashes his lips onto yours. The ribbon snaps, and you tip over, breath being ripped from your lungs as you gasp, sighing his name like it's a prayer.

It's been a couple minutes since he'd rolled over, your skin still slick with sweat as you continue to catch your breath, heart drumming steadily beneath your skin.

His hand is heavy on your waist, his breathing steady. He was practically half-asleep already once he'd finished.

"Fine," you breathe into the silence, eyelids growing heavy as you swallow. You push your hair out of your face and roll over to cuddle into his side. Defeat. "I forgive you."

Nam-gyu, even in his exhausted state, smirks weakly in the dark. He slowly turns to press his face into you, rubbing slow, possessive circles into your skin.

He feigns ignorance as he smiles against your hair, because accepting your forgiveness would be an admission of guilt, and he couldn't— wouldn't do that.

"For what?"

ao3 link, if you'd prefer to read it over there

a/n: omggg i had so much fun writing this! obviously, a lot of this is my interpretation / speculation of how he'd act 'normally', so when he's not crazy hopped up on drugs and locked up in a life or death situation, but hopefully it's somewhat believable. i'm like rushing to get all my writing out before season 3 potentially crushes all my hopes and dreams and imagination and/or my motivation leaaves me haha. although school's still been kicking my ass, as always please feel free to send me any thoughts / suggestions in my inbox <3 i'm in this shit for the long haul, y'all.

#nam gyu x reader #namgyu x reader #nam-gyu x reader #player 124 x reader #squid game #divider c: strangergraphics #lilyposting #my fic #nam gyu #namgyu #nam-gyu #player 124

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meadowfics · 5 months ago

Text

declined invite

the salesman / recruiter x gn!reader

the mysterious man pays you a visit after you do not call the card number

warnings: threats. manipulation. salesman takes a special interest to you. no gender for reader specified.

you had never been one for public transportation.

its been a rough week...rent overdue, your job barely covering expenses, and an argument with your sister kim about your financial irresponsibility.

tonight, you found yourself sitting at the edge of a subway platform, the fluorescent lights overhead flickering like they, too, were barely holding on.

a sigh left your lips as you rubbed your temples, trying to push away the headache forming behind your eyes. that’s when you sensed someone sitting down next to you.

at first, you did not mind. its the subway after all, you cannot tell anyone to move somewhere else.

however, you started to feel eyes on you.. then,

"excuse me."

you looked up, blinking in confusion at the well-dressed man sitting beside you. a sleek suit, a warm but eerily calculated smile.

he held up a briefcase, setting it on the seat beside him with an effortless grace.

"would you like to play a game?"

you frowned.

"excuse me?"

you didn't have time for salesman workers who frequent the streets to cheat on their wives at home. you've heard about those situations.

however, the man pulled out a stack of folded papers.before you could question it, he flipped them open, revealing two neat stacks of blue and red ddakji tiles.

"i'll make it simple," he said smoothly, tilting his head.

"we take turns throwing these, trying to flip the other player's tile. if you win, you get a hundred thousand won. if i win… well, you owe me your body. nothing vulgar, just a slap on the cheek."

you scoffed, shaking your head.

"i'm not interested."

"are you sure?"

the salesman’s eyes twinkled.

"it’s free money. surely, you have nothing to lose."

your arms crossed instinctively.

“i don’t play games with strangers.”

he chuckled, shuffling the tiles between his fingers before setting them down neatly.

"oh, but you do play games. just not ones you win."

your body stiffened.

"what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"you gamble. not with money...because you don't have any...but with your chances in life. you take risks constantly, trusting people you shouldn't, spending time in places you shouldn't."

he tapped his knee, mockingly thoughtful.

"like the shady bar down the street. the one you frequent when you’re avoiding your older sister's lectures. whiskey neat, always."

your breath hitched.

"or that friend you loaned money to last year. the one who promised to pay you back but never did. how much was it? a million won?"

your heart pounded.

“who the hell are you?”

he ignored your question, his smile unwavering.

"you’re not a very lucky person, are you?"

your throat went dry.

"i don't want to play your stupid game."

he exhaled dramatically.

"what a shame."

he began packing up the tiles with deliberate slowness, but then he pulled out a sleek brown card, sliding it toward you.

"but if you ever change your mind, call this number."

you stared at it, hesitating before picking it up. embossed in the center was a symbol of three shapes.

a circle, a triangle, and a square.

no name. no details. just a number.

you swallowed thickly, then shoved the card into your pocket.

you needed to get out of here.

now.

you spent the next few days holed up at your older sister's house, avoiding anything that felt remotely like a coincidence.

you didn’t leave, didn’t touch your phone unless absolutely necessary.

kim, of course, noticed.

"y/n," she called from the kitchen, hands on her hips.

"what’s going on with you?"

you forced a laugh.

"what do you mean?"

"you’ve been acting paranoid ever since you got here. jumping at noises, locking the door twice. are you in trouble?"

"no,"

you lied, avoiding her gaze.

"i just… needed a break from everything."

kim studied you with a skeptical look, but before she could press further, her phone buzzed.

"well, i have to run some errands,"

she said, still eyeing you.

"please don’t burn the house down while i’m gone."

"yeah, yeah,"

you muttered, waving her off.

the moment the door shut, silence settled over the house.

you exhaled, rubbing your temples. maybe you were overreacting.

maybe that man was just a really creepy con artist.

then came the knock.

you stilled.

it was soft at first. then a second knock, louder.

probably a neighbor, you thought. they were always borrowing something from your sister. you rose from the couch and walked to the door, fingers curling around the knob.

the second you opened it...your blood ran cold.

the salesman.

his smile widened.

"hello again, y/n."

panic seized your chest. you moved to slam the door, but he caught it with an iron grip, slipping inside before you could react.

"whoa there," he chuckled.

"no need to be rude."

"get the hell out of my house!"

you hissed, backing away.

he took a step forward, hands slipping into his pockets.

"i was just wondering why you never called the number."

you gawked at him.

"because i don’t have a death wish?!"

his grin didn’t falter.

"you think calling the number means death?"

"yes!"

your voice rose.

"look, i don’t know what you are or who you work for, but i’m not interested in being kidnapped, sold off, or whatever the hell this is!"

he hummed, amusement glinting in his eyes.

"funny. most people say that before they change their minds."

"i won’t."

he tilted his head.

"are you sure?"

silence stretched between you. the air felt suffocating.

then, he leaned in slightly.

"you have no job. you have no savings. you owe money to people you don’t even remember. lets not get started on your sister? well…"

he smirked.

"you’re getting a little too comfortable depending on her, aren’t you?"

you swallowed hard.

"there’s a way out, y/n,"

he said, voice smooth as silk.

"no more struggling. no more scraping by. just one game. and if you win… you’ll never have to worry again."

you shook your head, but doubt wormed into your mind.

"is this prostitution?"

he shook his head no.

"its not. but y/n, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t considering it,"

he continued.

"you wouldn't be so afraid if you didn’t believe...deep down...that this might be your only chance."

your hands trembled.

"why are you telling me all this?"

his smirk widened.

"because i need all 456 players."

your pulse thundered in your ears.

he stepped back, as if giving you space to breathe.

"think about it," he said simply, turning toward the door.

"but don't take too long. opportunities like this don’t come twice."

with that, he walked out, shutting the door behind him as if he had never been there at all.

your legs nearly gave out.

for a long time, you stood frozen, staring at the door.

slowly, shakily, you pulled out the card from your pocket, your fingers hovering over the numbers.

you inhaled sharply.

then you called.

masterlist

#gong yoo #the salesman squid game #squid game #squid game s2 #squid game fanfic #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x you #the salesman

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krems-chair · 7 months ago

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Losing My Mind over Veilguard 8/??

See, I waited a perfectly reasonable amount of time before coming in swinging again but I actually cannot get over how dead the game is. Literally. (Me ranting about an early game quest in Minrathous incoming)

Spoilers below the break

So. The first time you go to dock town? And Neve says in one of seventy different ways "no you don't have to come with me, this is my home not yours, I can handle this myself if you want to stay back" ?(but the showing not telling argument is for another day so I'll refocus and conserve energy for another day). Anyways.

This quest. The one where you go into the chantry in Minrathous and surprise!

Dead bodies absolutely EVERYWHERE.

I took a screenshot and then lost it, but it's worth mentioning that in my game, Neve's line of dialogue above about tracking down family and friends of the deceased didn't even trigger. If it had, however, I still would have lost my mind.

Why, you might ask?

Because after counting, losing count because I was counting so high, and then recounting about seven thousand times I can confidently tell you that plus or minus two to three more corpses, there are EIGHTY SIX dead bodies in the CHANTRY. The holy center of an incredibly popular religion! And even if it weren't that! It is a massive grounds with EIGHTY SIX DEAD PEOPLE who were KILLED HORRIFICALLY BY THE VENATORI AND DEMONS. How are you going to have the time to track down next of kin for that many people? And WHY are we acting like this is NORMAL?!

Dock Town is played very one-note already as a neighborhood where sketchy things happen and people go missing and it's best to just keep your head down if you're not in a position to do something about it.

But oh my sweet baby Maker come onnnnnnn.

You aren't going to recover from this if you're this branch of the Chantry. Presumably, you've just taken a massive hit across all levels of your religious hierarchy and that takes time and training to fill. And dock town is poor as hell, so where are you going to get the funding to fix this sudden staffing issue?

How does this affect (per @housederiva's iconic posts) Viper? Ya know, the guy we have found out through datamining is literally the Black Divine?? All we see (in the scenario where Treviso is saved) is him sadly sitting outside the chantry going "we remember the fallen" and that's presumably for the people lost when the dragon attacked, with nothing spared for the (again, I can't not lose my mind over this) eighty six dead people who were devoted to the same cause he is!

A whole smattering of holy women have just been yeeted off the mortal coil and it means absolutely nothing to your immediate party save for some of the emptiest lines ever, the city as a whole, or in the larger lore of the game. At all.

There are so many moments like this that had me rapidly oscilating between screaming at my ceiling and looking exactly like this:

And this isn't even something they can pass off as being too tied to the source material and wanting to start "fresh". This is just lazy, empty, disappointing storytelling and it's why I lose my mind a little more every time I see an ardent defender of the game tell an older fan to "get over it" or "let go of your expectations."

Because having something like (so sorry) EIGHTY SIX DEATHS go down with actually NO ripples throughout the rest of the game coming from ANY studio, let alone one that used to kill this kind of thing, is crazy to me. And I will die on that hill, even if it means Neve just kind of skips over my body on her way to find my next of kin only to never spare me another thought again.

#veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard critical #datv critical #dragon age veilguard #datv spoilers #veilguard critical

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mrsrileywrites · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I read lots of your work and im SO IN LOVE!!! Like I absolutely fell so hard for papa simon 😭😭 i wanna give him a babyy! But i was wondering, how would pregnancy be like with his child. I mean bro is HUGE so his baby would probably be not only pretty big and probably weight a little bit more too than an average newborn. If its okay with you would it be possible for you to write a little story maybe add a little bit of angst? (Idk like argument about something that made the reader really sad?) but please a happy ending 🥹

Feel free to ignore if thats not your thing or just not feeling comfortable writing about it!! LOVE YOUU!! Btw sorry for any misspelling English is not my first language.

First of, as a not native English speaker, your English is perfect.

And second, thank you for your kind words, it really encourages me to keep writing and also boosts my ego 😁

You asked in such a nice and respectful way so I really want to make you happy.

Now here's the thing, I'm an adult with lots of responsibilities and sometimes adulting makes me tired, like last night when I was trying to finish this but I fell asleep and I woke up this morning to find half of my writing disappeared, it just vanished 🥲

But I'll give you this to munch on and I promise I'll finish this before the end of the week.

I hope this is what you were expecting... Enjoy 🫶

A little over 700 words.

_______________________

You stood in front of the sink of your bathroom, holding a pregnancy test on your shaky hands, two little red lines staring right back at you.

How did this happen? How would you tell him? He doesn't want kids, he made it clear from the beginning and you accepted it without a fuss, that's why you've been taking your pills diligently every day, you didn't forget one, did you?... No, you know you didn't, how did this happen?

"You okay there, love?" Simon knocks on the bathroom door and you jump in surprise, like a child that's been caught red handed.

"Y-yes Si, j-just give me a minute... I'll be right there." Your period is about three weeks late so you bought a pregnancy test, your best friends advice, it wouldn't hurt, it was just to make sure, you certainly were not expecting this.

You hid the test on the cabinet under the sink and washed your face before coming out.

It's been a week since your ob-gyn confirmed a six weeks pregnancy and you still haven't found the courage nor the right time to break the news to Simon, so when he gets a call from Price to get deployed on a long mission you fear it would be too late by the time he comes back.

One month at most he said when he kissed you goodbye almost two months ago, you are 16 weeks into your pregnancy and your bump is starting to show, which only adds to your anxiety, between the morning sickness and your hormones being all over the place you still haven't figured out how to tell him.

As you ponder how to break the news to him, you realize that a simple phone call wouldn't suffice. With him stationed on the other side of the globe, risking his life every day, you hesitate to burden him further. At the same time, you know it wouldn't be ideal for him to return home and suddenly find you waddling around with a baby bump.

So you stay quiet and whenever he calls and asks why you sound so exhausted you blame it on your job, you say you are just stressed out, and he promises he'll take care of you once he's back, he'll relieve you from the stress the way you like it, the way only he knows how to.

You are laying on the couch wearing Simon's t-shirt, stuffing yourself with your favorite ice cream and watching trash tv when you hear fumbling outside your front door before it swings open, a very rugged Simon stands in the threshold , you curse under your breath, he didn't say he was coming home the last time you talked on the phone three days ago so you stand there and look at him overly conscious of the bump hiding under his t-shir and you thank the heavens he is a big man, you think the loose fit of his T-shirt would buy you time, your ice cream long forgotten in the coffee table.

He walks towards you with long strides as he pulls his balaclava over his head running his fingers through his messy hair and you shy away, you step back and freeze, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, he stops in his tracks and tilts her head, his eyebrows pinch as his eyes linger on your midsection and you know you're fucked, he noticed, how wouldn't he, and you hope and pray he'd say something, anything, but he doesn't, he turns on his heels ready to walk out.

"Simon wait!" You call for him and he stops, his hand lingers on the door knob, "I can explain, please just hear me out" your voice cracks and you wish you had been brave enough to tell him before, you know about his childhood and his trauma, you know his struggles and why he didn't want children in the first place, he trusted you and you broke his trust, you deceived him from the moment you found out you were pregnant and decided to keep it to yourself because you were too scared to trust him back.

"Explain what?" He shouts turning around and walking towards you again, your hands fly to your belly instinctively, protective. You lower your head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x pregnant reader #angst?#mrsrileywrites

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incorrectsmashbrosquotes · 9 months ago

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Rating Non-Zelink and Non-BotW Link Ships in Legend of Zelda Games because they don't get enough love

Malink; Malon x Link: Adorable and somewhat canon depending on who you think TP Link's parents are and what timeline shenanigans you subscribe to. Link's first non-Kokiri friend turning into his soulmate is cute and finding peace after the craziness of OoT is beautiful. Also, Malon is cute as a button. 11/10, love you, funky Horsegirl.

Ilia x Link: Pretty good but feels too much like a reskin of Malink to be really fun. People give Ilia grief for freaking out about Epona but it really isn't fucking deserved. Girl get's done dirty by the narrative and the fandom and she deserves better. Also, memory loss and falling in love all over again is absolute peak. 9/10, you deserve better, baby.

Marin x Link: A child's first taste of tragic ending and hot girls being doomed by the narrative. Very child friendly "Calypso and Odysseus" feel to this one. Still, Marin is absolutely adorable and the idea of falling in love with a literal dream is heartbreaking. 10/10, would cry like a little kid again.

Link x Ruto: Okay, hear me out, this one isn't terrible. Ruto's chld-like crush on the guy who saved her life is pretty cute and being a haughty teenager about it is pretty funny. Also, she understands they can't be together, and sends him off with her love and good wishes, which is surprisingly mature of her. I'm just saying, Ruto isn't the weirdo people make her out to be. 7/10, it still feels like entrapment

Midlink; Midna x Link: TOP TIER! BEST OF THE BEST! ABSOLUTE PEAK ROMANCE! Romeo and Juliet style star-crossed lovers from literal opposing sides of reality. Allies of convenience to friends to soulmates?! PEAK! Adorable evil goblin design for most of the game and then complete knockout reveal at the end?! ROMANCE DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE?! PEAK, I TELL YOU! PEAK! (Also I headcannon that because Midna looks like a Hylian she's considered ugly by Twili standards so Link finding her beautiful warms her heart). 20/10, best ship, best girl, best love story.

Ganlink; Ganondorf x Link: Objectively the funniest Legend of Zelda ship in existence and I will take no arguments on that. Destined enemies giving the middle finger to fate and falling in love instead? Amazing. Ganondorf hates every minute of it but he's also the happiest he's ever been with this stupid twink and he hates that too. 10/10, something something the Grinch's heart grew three sizes that day.

Link x Zant: Objectively hilarious as Link is seducing his enemies into submission yet again, like any self-respecting bard, but this one feels a little too Batman x Joker like for my liking. I really ship Zant x Therapy but Midna watching her rival give up his conquering ambitions for a twink is objectively hilarious. 8/10, not great but not bad.

Got others you want me to rate? Let me know! Or better yet, rate them yourself and I'll tell you if I agree or not.

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knightofgoetia · 3 months ago

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Netflix's DMC cartoon critique.

This critique in particular will (try) to focus on why this adaptation didn't even try to work as an adaptation. It's a negative critique, at least 95% of it is. Mind you, I'll be as respectful as I can be with it. I won't throw literal insults nor saying something is "shit" without giving an argument beforehand — but given the impact the Devil May Cry series had into my life, I'm afraid that I may slip one or two times regarding that. Maybe four or five. Or twenty or thirty.

So, if you're an avid defender of the show, you're actually very welcome to read it, and discuss my points if so. But do not take it as a personal attack towards you, nor people who have gotten into DMC with it. I'm trying to be as constructive here as possible — even if I know I won't, since I'll have lost my energy halfway through.

I am also calling it a cartoon, because that's what it is. 'Anime' is basically a cartoon, yes, but a specific type of cartoon from Japan. And I've never been that much into Japanese media regarding anime, but whenever western cartoons try to fit into that — it's just not it. But that's for another critique, not one for the DMC series in particular.

This will also be a very long post. If you don't feel like reading, then just scroll by, don't jump at me with the "i ain't reading all that" nonsense.

Once that has been cleared up, here are also some extras that are more of a personal thing of mine than elaborated critiques:

a) If you want a judgemental commentary on the series' showrunner and some examples of experiences the fanbase has had with him, go here.

b) If you want a personal point of view regarding Netflix, and how 'pieces of media' are consumed nowadays, go here.

— Other examples of criticisms that are not mine, but I believe were quite on point:

Example One. Example Two. Example three.

Now that I'm all set, I shall begin. Hopefully, I'll keep my tone down, but don't expect much from me in that regard. I tried.

— Part 1: USA centrism.

The "western audiences" are americans. USA americans, particularly, the rest of the continent isn't included either. And of course that I do get why, I'm not that naive, but the world is too big for "The West™" to be just the United States of America.

I think it's obvious by this point (and if you follow my classics blog, you know it), but I am from Europe. Particularly, Spain. I'm not saying in a "look at me, i'm important too" way, rather in a "just like me, the world is full of other countries that are not the USA". Western Europe is the "western audience" too, is it not? I cannot speak for all, obviously, but which part of these DMC series did not scream "made by americans for americans."

There's, and let me get this clear, absolutely NOTHING wrong with that. So why do I bring it up? Well, because it's not the first time a series that is originally set in either its own fictional world, or another part of the world that isn't USA — suddenly gets an adaptation where it IS set in USA. And maybe, just maybe, that makes it lose part of its charm.

Take, for example, when Hollywood announced (with no context whatsoever, and we still don't know anything else) and adaptation of 'La Casa de Bernarda Alba' that was going to be set in Miami, of all places. This work is set in the rural Spain of the early 20th century, and it's about the repression of women in 'the rural Spain' — so again, why would you set it in Miami, of all places? Is it just the place for recording for the sake of setting a place? Are you gonna make all of the scenarios artificial or something? If it's not rural Spain, the work has no meaning at all.

Same thing in DMC. I... I really don't need airplanes with "UNITED STATES OF AMERICA" written on them to remind myself where we are. I don't need to see the USA flag all the time. I don't need them to be in "glory to America" mode during it. Okay, you've taken liberties from the source material — does anything in special come from the show being set in America? No. That's the issue.

The gothic aesthetic, gone. It was already gone by DMC 5, I know, I'm not blind. But even in DMC 5 they keep *some* crumbs of it. Mainly with the first Dante missions. It's not the ideal, and I did miss it back in the game — but it's nowhere near close to the show.

The show's closest gothic aesthetic is the museum scene. Which, isn't good. Why... Why would you keep the Force Edge, which is technically an important artifact with, you see, powers, in a *museum*? Does USA not have any places they can take some crumbs such as ruins, at least, like in DMC 5?

Or... You could have just used another country to set the series in. Or none at all. DMC has had its inspirations, it's obvious, but they do not have the name of the country they're set in written all over the place.

The Resident Evil reference doesn't make up for it, either. Is... Is Redgrave just a bit too much of an edgy game for this, or... Well.

— Part 2: Analogy to the War on Terror.

This... This is gonna be tough. It is hurting me to write it as much as it was hurtful to watch.

So, let me get this straight... The oppressed minorities in this show are the demons. Demons who were made to look, to put it simple, not white.

You made, you know, *demons*. Demons that, according to the dictionary, are vile creatures that carry no humanity in them. Because if they had humanity, they would be human.

Cambridge Dictionary:

"an evil spirit."

Second Cambridge definition:

"a person who behaves very badly."

Oxford Dictionary:

"an evil spirit or devil, especially one thought to possess a person or act as a tormentor in hell."

Second Oxford definition:

"a cruel, evil, or unmanageable person."

Demons being an allegory of the Middle East... Why? Why would you want to portray "the oppressed" as demons, of all things? Making demons 'good' in the show isn't gonna change anything. They're demons. Demons, by definition, are not good.

This is like putting a lion and using it as an allegory for a vegan. A lion, by definition, is a carnivore. It's the animal's nature. You could instead, for example, use a deer — deers are herbivores, yes, but they do chew on bones they do find around to obtain essential minerals that are lacking in their vegetarian diet. In other words, a similar way that humans who are vegan take proteins or similar things to compensate for them not eating food of animal origin.

In this case, you could have used another fantasy race for the allegory — like fairies, who are by definition kind spirits that do nothing but mind their own business.

But not demons.

"They just can't survive in the demon realm, that's why they come to the human world." Look at me. Look at me when you're saying that. The demons are refugees. Demons. de-mons.

"All we're trying to do is survive." Okay. No. Not really. What do demons even need to survive? Do they feed like humans? How is it that they die like humans? The show is trying really hard to make you sympathize with beings that are, by definition, bad ! Making it an allegory to the War On Terror it not making them look good !! For the love of god, they're DEMONS. Just— Just WHY would you choose *demons* to make such an alegory?!

Just... Imagine knowing (or being part of) those affected by the atrocities the show based the Hell invasion on... And then be represented as demons. Minorities that are ALREADY being categorized as demons in our real world by a bunch of fascists... And you portray them like that in a show based on a series that has absolutely nothing to do with that. What's not clicking?

You're not making this point any valid at all if the humans (or, well, americans) are fighting against... Well ! A threat !! Sure, make the 'oppressed' guys demons, make them a reason for humanity to fight against them. Who am I supposed to sympathize with in here... And why? Because "demons fleeing hell because they're treated horribly by their own home" is really not the best way to approach an allegory of AN EVENT OF THE REAL WORLD.

... Playing 'American Idiot' was certainly a choice. But we'll get to the music later. Let's just say that, my guy, isn't this scene supposed to have a dramatic impact on the characters and the viewer? We're watching the (technically) oppressed being in the show being BOMBED AND KILLED and you play "American Idiot". Isn't this like playing a Lady Gaga song during a massacre?

The 'good' demons in DMC are the exception to the norm. And those few 'good' demons don't want to live as demons AND they can't live as demons. The moment you act like a human, YOU ARE a human. That's why Sparda had a human form in the games !

I don't need a story about why the actual american fucking government is bad — sir, I'm very aware ! The showrunner literally should know if he goes around posting this stuff.

Sooo the victim of american imperialism is... Hell? As in. The thing. Were. Bad things occur. There was an attempt, I suppose. Oh. And this happened, too.

— Part 3: ... Lady. Or 'Mary Arkham'.

*sigh* DMC3 spoilers ahead, just in case.

First of all, it's Mary Ann Arkham. Why the 'Ann' is being removed is something I don't get. You're here praising that this new Lady is 'feminist' while the original 'wasn't', and you remove her mother's name, but keep her father's name? Sure, go ahead.

Lady went through half of DMC3 without saying her name. "I don't have a name" has a meaning, and it's that she hasn't been able to find an identity after seeing her mother being killed by her father in a search for power to become a demon. How do you process that in so little time? "Lady" comes from Dante. He said it once, "okay lady", and that was enough to have an impact on her. Because this is Dante. Half-demon, half-human, who has (who knew) family issues just like her. And just as bad.

If Arkham managed to manipulate her with his supposed death in the game, it was because he is still her father. No matter what evil he does, he is her father. And she's never moving on from killing him. Never. Ever. You can't move on from that. It's not a matter of 'moving on', in any case. Just like Dante was never able to fully move on from Vergil's drop into Hell, no matter how hard he had tried.

Meanwhile, Arkham dies when turning himself into a demon. He murders Kalina Ann for nothing. Lady's hatred towards demons stays in the show like that, but... But what is she even looking for after this? To eradicate all demons in the world since her parents died due to, technically, them?

"Maybe a devil may cry when he loses a loved one, don't you think?" That's one of the most iconic lines to come out of the whole franchise that is at least 24 years old by now. Because, no, devils never cry — if a devil does cry, that's not a devil anymore. Lady existed to show how strong humans are without the need to have super strength, hubris or anything else that demons do have. Netflix's Lady doesn't show anything, she's just here to yell at us "yeah humans bad, blah blah blah".

Without power, who can you protect? Yes, true — but what's the point of having power when there's no one to protect? Lady wanted to kill her own father because of what he did, what he was about to do... To humanity. Her mother was gone because of that, and anyone else could be the next.

Netflix's Lady, on the other hand... A cop. A cop who I don't know what ideology she even has at this point. She spends the whole show shitting on demons and cursing all the cursing existing words in the English dictionary... then sees demon refugees and, well, apparently that changes her point of view... aaand then she betrays Dante. That's some interesting character development, she's evolving — just backwards.

You didn't need to make her 10 times stronger than Dante, for her to capture him easily, and to BLOW HIS HEAD WITH A BOMB. You don't need to turn the 'protagonist' into a bloody mess to show me how powerful the ¿heorine? is in this show. If she's 10 times more powerful than demons then — then why are they considered a threat in the first place? Not to mention her swearing, because remember kids, this is for adults, in case you didn't notice. Gore and gore, swears and swears. She genuinely said 'fuck' in four sentences IN A ROW. Not even I with my anger issues swear this much.

She just commits police brutality all around because "america bad" and all that, I get it — but again, her character *doesn't evolve* and the flashbacks do not explain her hatred towards demons either...? Yes, your father turned himself into one, but WHY would he, if demons are incredibly weak in this thing?

Oh, and, I'm afraid I do not recall her age in the show. In DMC3 she's supposed to be 16-18. I don't think she should be the leader of a DEMON HUNTING GROUP THAT COMMIT POLICE BRUTALITY with that age. The Vice President substitute being a groomer for Lady was... Also a choice !

Because humans bad, guys. You get it? Humans only do bad things and act without thinking. Demons... Apparently don't do that, I suppose? Genuinely why would Lady side with people who insist that "we as a nation can do better" and then proceed to colonize Hell. Of all places.

"devil spawn motherfucker" are. are you being serious. right now.

She's a genocidal sociopath (she was already a sociopath in her childhood flashbacks ! what !), and what was the point of Arkham in the backstory, anyways? And Kalina Ann? The rocket launcher was a fucking cameo.

Lady pointing a gun at people who haven't done shit ?? Okay ma'am. Why are you a fascist. What does this have to do with trauma anyways.

Her speech about Sparda? You CAN'T be dramatic when saying "he one day went 'hey this is evil as fuck'", that's not a speech, that's a damn Twitter post.

— Part 4: "Wacky woohoo pizza man".

Jeez. The protagonist not being protagonic sure is a choice as well. And the worst part? Dante is the least badly done in here — that doesn't mean he's the Holy Grail, either. This interpretation of him is just mediocre and forgetable, but better than awful, I guess.

He really just exists. Does he, like, do anything else besides the jokes? The jokes that are, mind you, not funny ! "Your mom" joke from DANTE? Please. PLEASE someone hold me before I say very, very bad things regarding that.

I get it, Shankar, you like pop culture. I get it, really. No need to shove it in my face. But he doesn't do anything else ! The fights have no point if he's gonna lose them anyways for no reason at all ! Why ! Is he ! So ! Weak ! What has he been up to since the damn childhood even of 'my mom died in front of my eyes'? How has he been a mercenary if, like, mercenaries have no plot relevance in here? What do you mean —i breathe in and out— what do you mean. What do you mean he 'got bored' of his missions. What do you fucking mean.

Ok, I get it, it's an AU, they can take liberties — Dante still would not do that. Like. No matter how well or bad he is characterized in any interpretation, he never leaves a mission unfinished, even more if someone is in danger. BUT OF COURSE NO ONE IS IN DANGER HERE BECAUSE DEMONS ARE GOOD BUDDIES WHO ARE BEING KILLED BY HUMANS BECAUSE HUMANS ARE BAD AND THE TRUE MONSTERS AND WE SHOULD GOT EXTINCT DID YOU GUYS GET THE MESSAGE —i breathe in and out— that sure was a way to simplify a character into... Comedic relief ! It's your protagonist, for the love of god. How did he go TWO whole episodes without appearing AT ALL.

Also, Dante not knowing he is half-demon was, once again, another choice ! So the government knows but he doesn't? They can explain that nonsense as much as they want to, it won't make sense to me even once.

WHAT was that Devil Trigger awakening. WHAT was that. Generic action scene for such a crucial moment in original Dante's life? Sure, take creative liberties — but what's the point of those liberties if the changes are gonna be boring and not changing anything in THE SHOW'S OWN PLOT at all? It just looks like the normal, average power-up the hero gets for no reason other than, well, being the hero.

— Part 5: Sparda and Eva.

I think that I've lost any sort of professionalism by now. I apologize. I promise I didn't want to sound like this.

But... Sparda being morally gray? Almost depicting him like some sort of fascist? What does that add to the plot, exactly???

Sparda, who, fell in love with a human woman and realized that his own kind were nothing but monsters. Sparda who rebelled against his own kind and HOME for the sake of the ones who were being killed while they did nothing but have the capacity to love ! That Sparda. A... "morally gray" character according to the script in this.

(the way the show describes him isn't even the definition of "morally gray", but there was an attempt in that intention i guess)

The design really doesn't help — and saying it has to be 'simple' so animators have less trouble is... Ridiculous. I'm pretty sure many complex designs have been animated before? You just pay people for the job and... That's it.

Not like he even showed that much, why waste so little in a figure that is supposed to haunt the narrative?

People saying he's... Hot? Are you guys being serious? Can you please raise your standards a bit? Things are more deep than a figure who haunts-the-narrative to be hot, holy shit, we're not fourteen (... most).

That's not "more simple so it's easier to animate" it's straight up badly done. What are those horns. What is that quality of the million dollar company. Help me.

ALSO. OF COURSE HE'S A "DEADBEAT" DAD. OF. FUCKING. COURSE. RIGHT. WE'RE ALL WITHOUT FATHERS. ALL RIGHT. YOU CAN'T HAVE A DRAMATIC BACKSTORY WITHOUT YOUR FATHER ABANDONING YOU THE MOMENT YOU ARE BORN.

Just why? The twins did know their father in the original story, he didn't disappear the moment they were born. Again, what does it add to the plot? So Dante doesn't know that he's half-demon? BUT SOMEHOW THE GOVERNMENT DOES? So you're telling me you threw into the trash his whole self loath regarding his nature, which is, like, a base of the character? DANTE, YOU HEAL VERY FAST, HOW THE HELL DO YOU NOT KNOW YOU ARE NOT FULLY HUMAN.

Take liberties my guy, but there's a difference between "taking liberties" and straight up changing the plot to the point it has absolutely none of the essence from the original source material besides the NAMES. It just makes it look like you grabbed the IP's name to gain attraction, because if not, the show wouldn't have as much interest.

Again, you picked a story that isn't yours, and tried to make it yours. As GRRM said: "there always seems to be someone on hands who thinks he can do better, eager to take the story and 'improve' on it. Then they make the story their own. They never make it better, though."

About Eva — well, I don't have much to say. It's one of the few things that followed the original narrative... And maybe that's why it wasn't bad ! Who knew ! Right. Who knew respecting the source would do well. Sucks that she haunts the narrative as little as Sparda in here. Being a "single mom" is her biggest trait in the show, instead of her whole symbolism back in the games. Are we being serious here.

How did she even raise the twins alone? What's her job? Is she rich? If so, why? Did Sparda leave her anything? 8 episodes and you couldn't even throw in a line for context? A LINE AS TO WHY DEMONS KILLED HER IN THE FIRST PLACE?

— Part 6: Secondary characters.

Lady's squad and Enzo, absolutely the most irrelevant thing I've seen in centuries. Their deaths hold little to no meaning. You could have removed them from the show and nothing would have changed at all. What were we even trying to achieve here? Didn't we say that humans bad? Why are their deaths supposed to be awful now? Weren't demons in the right? Weren't the demons fighting their oppressors? Make up your mind !

... And that's all. I guess that they fall under the same category as Dante. They're mediocre, not awfully bad. So I suppose that's part of the 5% that's not dreadful from the show.

And of course the deaths needed to be the most grotesque gore an american cartoon has ever shown. Because adult shows, am I right. DMC5 is the closest to that with the intro cutscene, and it carries way more impact.

(Enzo's design also sucks. But. Who am I to judge. And why does the squad look like DeviantArt OC's for the love of god. Girl what's that makeup.)

— Part 7: The White Rabbit.

He was my hope for this show. My damn "at least the villain will be intriguing and has the good design from the manga!" sort of hope. BUT NOPE ! His whole tale of vengance has absolutely no meaning like any conflict in this narrative ! Yeah ! Peak writing !

So. Why was this guy even here. His purpose in the manga was to bring Dante and Vergil together so he could get both amulets. If Vergil gave him his amulet willingly (Jesus Christ when I get to Vergil), why the hell did he go through the whole "down this rabbit hole" thing. What did he achieve. Dante is a weakling in this, he didn't need to take that much of an effort.

Was he just having fun being a furry? Guess I'll respect that, because they adaptated their design really well. Shock. A good thing from this mess.

Not to mention he turned out to be an OC that really didn't add anything to the plot aGAIN. SHOCK. I KNOW. He's a human and that makes Lady sympathize with him suddenly, instead of calling him a hypocrite for torturing demons as he experiments on them while saying he wants to save them ! SO SUDDENLY BY BEING HUMAN HER MIND CHANGES AGAIN? Girl get a grip.

Just look at how much Dante's ass gets beaten up buddy, you didn't need to go through all of that to get him, and the damn dialogues with Dante aren't helping either. They feel... Empty. Why was Dante trying to pull a "i can fix him" in this? Sir, my guy, my buddy, Dante, my dear — Lady immediatly agreed with the White Rabbit when he was revealed as a human. You can't fix anyone in this place.

Who is even supposed to be the antagonist in this show to begin with? Aren't humans bad and demons good? And that's the basis of the White Rabbit? But then demons bad because look how they react to humans and humans are being killed and the White Rabbit is a hypocrite, sort of? So demons are the good guys because they're being oppressed and just want to survive, but then apparently they'll only be "genocidal" if they step into the human world?

It's just one point contradicting the other. And taking the current real life events of the world... It's so painful to watch.

What a waste of a good design. WHAT. A. WASTE. The White Rabbit was so well animated and shown ! The voice acting was really good, too. It was one of my few hopes for the show, really ! But I am not defending an imcomplete villain... Or antagonist... Or whatever the furry is. I'm tired boss.

— Part 8: Vergil.

Eh. Where do I begin. It's been two days and I haven't recovered from the shock. The shock of seeing a character that was so well and beautifully written regarding traumatic experiences in a fucking action game... Being turned into a bootlicker towards the main villain. Or. One of the villains. I suppose. As if the writing was able to explain correctly everyone's role in this shithole.

Look. I tried. I really tried, I did. I promise I did ! I tried watching this twice ! Everything else, no matter how bad it was, was his own thing. Not my DMC whatsoever. Okay, cool, I can live with that. Yes, sure. I can accept the butchered Lady and Dante. I can accept the poorly written politics in it. I can accept incomplete villains due to inconsistencies.

But Vergil? Vergil??? The character blinded by trauma? The protagonist's other half? The Mr. i-am-haunted-by-a-past-i-cannot-go-back-to? The damn Mr. haunts-the-narrative-without-even-doing-anything? Mr. i-rather-slice-my-brother's-hand-rather-than-letting-him-follow-me-to-the-pits-of-hell-which-he-doesn't-deserve? MR. WHISPERING DANTE'S NAME WHEN HE WAS LOOKING AT HIS OWN REFLECTION ON THE YAMATO???

He wasn't just turned into a "generic villain" no. No, no, no. I would have wished it was that. Boy, do I wish.

WOW. JUST FUCKING WOW.

You guys are such good writers ! I can't believe I'm shitting on the "it was my father's fucking enemy who freed me" ! You made such a brilliant narrative compared to the original character who brought to us THOUSANDS OF ESSAYS and ACTUAL PSYCHOLOGISTS ANALYZING HIM regarding his whole story !

Now, trying to speak in a more... Serious way. If I can. I'm trying.

Nelo Angelo. One of my favorite concepts regarding Vergil's character. Imagine being enslaved like a mindless puppet for fighting for over a decade — and in here, that is turned into "oh no, this is just my powerful form after Mr. Bad Guy saved me because Mr. Bad Guy is absolutely awesome and he made me cool". Like. Not even antagonist or generic villain. He's the fucking "sidekick".

Is Mundus even supposed to be 'Mr. Bad Guy' in this IF DEMONS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE OPPRESSED. I DON'T GET IT. MAKE UP YOUR MIND. ESTOY CANSADO JEFE. APRENDED A ESCRIBIR GUIONES. SANTA MIERDA.

Imagine being able to recognize your brother after a decade of imprisonment in Hell, but he's not able to recognize you due to how much Mundus has changed you. Identical twins. The same face. The same blood. Identical twins. A single thing separated into two back in the mother's womb. But he doesn't recognize you due to how much you've changed. And that's when you realize what you have been turned into. That there is no way back for you.

But add the 'funny haha' line at the end, and you're done ! He's the storm that is approaching guys ! Like the meme ! Like the only line we know from the song ! He's so cool ! Despite the fact that he has none of the reasons to act the way he does behind that damn line !

Vergil is... A very particular character. He's very unique in the entire world of videogames as a whole. Just like Dante. Just like Lady. Just like Sparda. But unlike those three, he wasn't just turned into your "average western characters", he was turned into a trope. A trope.

'But what if being raised by Mundus turns out interesting? What is he's brainwashed?' You really think he would side with the ones who killed his family in the show?

'But what if he's infiltrating?' ah, yes, and killing other guys in the process. They really took the whole AU thing to an extreme and made a villain a "what if Mundus was just misunderstood? 🥴" and then ya'll will be with the 'we want villains who are evil just because back!'

— Part 9: Symbolism.

I think it's obvious that I'm growing tired by now. I tried to keep calm, but the more I think of it, the more infuriating it gets.

The soundtrack PLAYS NO ROLE in the narrative. Something that amazes me from DMC and the fact that it's an action game is: how the soundtrack tells things from the narrative. "Devils Never Cry" is an iconic song for a reason — and they went and used it for the ending. That... That was A Choice™ ! Once more !

Do the lyrics of "Devil Trigger" not mean anything to you? For you to throw it into Dante's awakening of his DT for the sake of it being a DT? Did you forget the implications that it has with Nero? Since you're putting odd covers instead of the original versions too, but not enough for the lyrics to change their meaning TO THE SCENE THEY PLAY IN — I guess bringing Evanescence into your amalgamation was too much already. And, see, this is the only good part of the soundtrack that made sense. Because wHO KNEW THAT MAKING AN ORIGINAL SONG WAS BETTER THAN BUTCHERING ALREADY EXISTING ONES. WHO KNEW HUH.

WHY IS BURY THE LIGHT THERE. I don't care if it's popular, it has a MEANING and that meaning has been straight up butchered in the show. The show it's a different thing, I know, it's an AU, I know... But for the love of god that's like putting a Sabrina Carpenter song while a character is being killed or something.

What role did the Plasma even have in here? Why did it take Vergil's appearance if it didn't do anything to Dante at all? It lasted for three seconds. And was never brought up again. Sure, it was brought to show 'hey Vergil is actually alive because the Plasma can only mimic people who are alive!' Why... Why would he still do that with Dante. What's the point.

None of that symbolism is seen in the designs, so what gives? None of the symbolism is seen in the weapons, so what gives? None of the symbolism is seen on the demons, SO WHAT GIVES? Why putting there demons like Echidna or Agni & Rudra, if you spent the 8 episodes showing demons looking as human as possible? So are you telling me only the demons that look human are the good ones? No shit ! Hadn't thought of that ! You need to be human to show HUMANITY ! What a shock !

"Crimson Cloud" is also there. I'm sure I heard it. And again, WHY is it here? Why do the lyrics not mean anything to you? You heard 'fight for your life' and called it a day, didn't you? Because this was just a paintball match but with actual weapons with people and demons killing each other all the time for genuinely no reason other than YAY BLOOD !

Isn't it hilarious how out of the 4 character themes from DMC 5, they didn't include DANTE's theme in particular. And if your argument is "Subhuman sucks" i'm gonna block you directly. That's one of my favorite songs ever. They didn't use "Subhuman" simply because the lyrics make no sense with this Dante. A Dante who didn't know he was half-demon, who didn't spend half of his life depressed and with self loathing due to his own nature — but then again, neither do the lyrics of "Bury the Light", "Devil Trigger" or "Crimson Cloud" fit what is being told... So? So what is the fucking excuse for not including it???? That it's "a bad song"? That is doesn't fit you 'I'm a 2000 guy yaaay' vibe? I'm gonna chop off your tongue.

Actually, no, no... I'm thankful that one of my favorite songs ever was actually NOT included in this thing, so that when I listen to it I don't remember that butchered version of Dante.

"We're here to entertain ourselves, not to read a book", okay, that's fair. Why don't they just do Generic Action Series Number 34™ and call it a day, then? Oh wait, I know, because taking advantage of an IP's popularity is nothing new ! We've been doing this since the oldest works from mankind ! Just HOW many times have I seen a 'classic' being turned into whatever the hell the modern viewer 'enjoys' watching — and it strips off the entire original meaning and concept THAT MADE THAT WORK A *CLASSIC* IN THE FIRST PLACE?

— Part 10 (and finally, last): Cameos.

I gave it a chance because I was told that Lucia showed up. My hopes got up. I thought that they had genuinely put thought into this thing. I thought that, even if it wasn't canon, it would show care and appreciation for the series... That it was 'a love letter to the series' as it had been promoted — but of course, I was proven wrong. Yet again.

So, uhhhhh we have the city from Resident Evil. Megaman for some reason. Nell Goldestein is only mentioned for that??? WHERE THE HELL ARE EBONY & IBORY. LORD. Lady's rocket launcher is used once, for the "point and yell" I suppose. Cindy flirting with Dante was... A choice, as well. And she has no roller skates, when that was a very cool detail for a secondary character ! And all the pop culture references are just *not* it. Even without the DMC skin on, that's yells 'how do you do, fellow kids' so much.

... Lucia appears for three seconds, and she's almost as pale as me.

Say sike right now. My guy, don't you, the showrunner, have that similar skin tone. I genuinely never thought I would be complaining about a SKIN TONE of a fictional character. But here we are.

That's not a lighting thing, my guy, she's in the complete darkness. A bit more and they would have thrown her into the "dark-skinned characters whose skin is grey". I haven't used the term 'whitewash' even once in my life, given how little I interact with fandoms. But, lmao, this is literally that. There's so little poc characters in the series — and you do this?

I wouldn't be surprised if they butchered Morrison into this thing and used the 2007 anime's design instead of the one from DMC 5. Because, out of ALL the things they can take from the 2007 anime, they will take the ugliest design there could possibly be in it !

(Please don't touch Patty. Stay away from her.)

My brother in Christ, you won't have me yelling and pointing at the screen thanks to "references". For the love of god, think about the writing first !

*deep breath* because, after all, this all would have been avoided with good writing ! Genuinely. The music and cameos could have been so fun, and fit so well, if your script wasn't absolute ass (saying that with all due respect, which is none).

— Personal addition.

The constructive and objective critique ends here. This last part is a more personal addition, given how THE series that has had such a big impact in my life has been turned into a generic action show, that is treated as the Holy Grail because people lack critical thinking and will consume anything that shows the protagonist's abs. I can't believe that's a defense argument. How are you guys so basic.

Well... Devil May Cry came into my life just about a year ago, thanks to a mutual. I still hold said person very dear to me, due to many reasons, but this being one of them. I had no idea about DMC, nothing. I only knew the protagonist's name and that it was an action game.

The memes always kept me away, because I thought it was about that, after all. Generic action game about combos and funny hahas. And I need lore, I need a story. I need something else to be in it.

It was this comment that I myself made back then when said mutual spoke to me about the series, that made me give *all* of the games a try:

I knew nothing. I didn't even know about Vergil's existence, for example. I genuinely went to the first game thinking it was going to be just "pew pew die evil creatures" or "Resident Evil with memes" ... And then Nelo Angelo appeared.

That's why netflix's choice of changing everything about that concept pissed me off so much. It's the concept that made me CONTINUE, that made me play THE REST OF THE GAMES. That showed me DMC was a damn Greek tragedy and not just a 'funny haha' meme shitshow !

From there, it just kept on increasing. Some downs here and there, due to a company's awful decisions of not giving enough time to get a game done, but overall, it surprised me how much these series affected me. I told my therapist about them. My therapist.

Any side material, even the niche ones, I searched through them all. Heck. Games, novels, artbooks, interviews, mangas... The Tony Redgrave concept was so impactful. Beryl is the love of my life. DMC3 got me crying over a video game, after almost seven years of that not happening again. The 2007 anime showed how much you can do with little budget.

The protagonist was someone I wasn't used to. The antagonist was a perfectly crafted character regarding all the good kind of stories that I enjoy. The female characters are an insane detail, I can't believe there's so many of them, and I absolutely adore them all.

... So. Take all of that creative series, that has had such a big impact on my life as much as the Odyssey, the epic poem, had on me when I was just 10, and has been stucked with me for a decade. Those creative series that are making me feel the same thing that epic poem made me feel as a child — and turn them into a generic action series, with little to no symbolism, with some sort of political message delivered wrong because it keeps contradicting itself.

And with people calling me 'retard' or 'tourist' or 'hater' or 'whiny bitch' for voicing these current thoughts. For people saying I'm being 'mean' to new fans, when I simply told them I don't get the hype over such a messed up plot — I even offered myself recommendations as to where to start with the series !

I guess this being my hyperfixation to the point where I couldn't do basic tasks, to the point it made my chest physically hurt, to the point it made me cry just thinking about it, to the point of losing my breath when I was (supposed to be) talking about it to a friend casually — none of that matters to them. I'm being mean for trying to get them into the series that changed my life.

I'm not saying "anime only people you suck ass" no, I'm saying "for the love of god, don't shit on the original IP to praise the show".

I have to take what's given. Even if it's not even the bare minimum. Even if it's brought to us by an egocentric jackass. I have to enjoy it, because it's content. I'm being an 'ungrateful fan 'and a 'whiny bitch'.

I prefer not having any more content to play, read or watch, rather than to have bad content about said thing ! I don't need a retelling, nor a bootleg universe, nor an adaptation, to keep my interest going. I don't need it to be turned into a content farm to be satisfied. I liked what it had. What it had is what got me into the series.

I love Devil May Cry for what it meant, not for entertainment only.

And I tried to at least aceept the Netflix cartoon. I've watched it twice, to be able to write this precisely — or well, I tried, since at the second watch I stopped at episode 6. I couldn't. I can't. It feels disrespectful.

It makes me nauseous to see that someone is egocentric enough to claim that he is saving a series that... Didn't need any saving in the first place. "From the visionary mind of Adi Shankar" dude, dude that's not advertising. Get your head out of your own butt.

It's scary. Scary that this type of people have so much free time and money on their hands. There were a lot of things to 'adapt', as the word really means — and you picked not even one !

I'm not saying it has to be completely the same ! Not a 1:1 adaptation ! But it didn't need to strip the original meaning of WHY A DEVIL *MAY* CRY !

If you did enjoy it after reading this, I'm glad, I really am ! I'm very happy that you were able to see something marvelous in it that I didn't, that's beautiful and I'm very happy for you. (None of this last paragraph is sarcasm. Disclaimer.)

Albeit, maybe I was a bit too selfish, and dumb, to expect some extra content on the characters that have meant so much to me. That have both ruined and saved my life unironically. Maybe it's elitist to want that, maybe, I've never denied it.

Perhaps I'm overreacting. Perhaps it's just a silly cartoon. Perhaps.

But I wanted to cry like I did with DMC3 when I watched the series — and I didn't. I did cry... But of rage. Rage, frustration, and impotence.

Just consume. Pay. Praise the minimum effort. Wait for the next product. Repeat.

#it's 2:30 am. i apologize if there's any mistake in spelling or something. i should be sleeping #but i wanted to get rid of this draft once and for all #i wanted to ignore it. i didn't want to overreact #but i can't. a game series that even my therapist knows about #because. yes. of course that's what kept me going #seeing it turned into this amalgamation... i guess it's a canon event or something #i'm tired boss. i'll mute this until the morning #take care and don't jump at each other's throats <3 #anti dmc netflix #made this tag simply to separate my rants from other things. but i saw many using it. lmao. save me.#dmc netflix #dmc #devil may cry #devil may cry netflix

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rendy-a · 3 months ago

Note

Hi hello hi :3

Firstly, is it okay if I write something for "Encanto" Ramshackle too? I'll credit you ofc as the OG

And Secondly, can we have some more of that absolute crackfic of an AU? I always giggle hysterically when I reread twst cast going bananas for a building

Ty ahead 🫶

Of course you can write your own Player possesses Ramshackle fic. Tag me when you finish and I'd be happy to read what your ideas were.

Its been a hot minute since I've written anything for this blog. I had noticed the Ramshackle stuff was getting some interest lately, so sure. I'll write another one.

A chill was creeping in the air and the occasional white flake drifting from the sky indicated only one thing, opportunity was approaching. Though they were required to follow the plot of the game, there were certain times when you could take full advantage of being a cast member on TWST and this was one of them. Winter Break was nearly here, that time when most students went home to visit family. But more importantly, when the plot dictated that Ramshackle dorm, home of the Player, would be totally empty.

Now, of course, every member of the TWST cast would like to use the Winter Break time, when the plot dictates that Yuu and Grim are to be imprisoned in Scarabia, to take over their dorm. Why wouldn’t they when Ramshackle is the only place to directly bask in the glow of the glorious Player? Only, how does one manage to get that coveted permission to stay there?

Make a Deal

Yuu walks quickly toward the lunchroom while Grim has long since abandoned them to their fate. Azul rounds the corner, pursuing Yuu at a brisk walk and Yuu picks up the pace. “As you can see, the terms here are quite beneficial to you.” Yuu scowls, plants their feet and turns to confront the conman. “Listen here Azul,” Yuu states as they jab their finger into the merman’s chest, “I’m sick of how creepy you all are with my house. I don’t care what terms you have in that contract; I’m not letting you stay in Ramshackle over Winter Break!”

Azul desperately tugs on Yuu’s sleeve to prevent them from walking off, “Wait, wait!” Against their better judgement, Yuu pauses to let Azul speak. “I…I…have one more contract!” Then Azul turns away and quickly fumbles with something out of sight before turning and dramatically presenting Yuu with a signed ‘contract.’ He shakes it under Yuu’s nose, “LOOK! You’ve already signed the contract! Your dorm is all mine!” Yuu rips the contract from Azul’s hand and reads, ‘Yuu will get first place on the mid-terms or they must forfeit one bajillion madol. If the defaulting party cannot pay the fine, then they may offer private residence in Ramshackle Dorm in lieu of payment.’ Yuu rolls their eyes at Azul, “One, I didn’t sign this. Two,” here Yuu pauses to hold up the ‘contract’ for emphasis, “This is written on a napkin. And three, ‘one bajillion’ isn’t a real amount of money.”

Make a bribe

A knock sounds on the door of Ramshackle and the creaky old door swings in from the force. “I guess I’ll just come right in then! Thanks Player!” Kalim spouts with a huge grin on his face. Yuu gets up slowly from the sofa and ambles to the door, “Don’t read too much into it, this is just an old building.” Kalim quickly replies, “Right, right,” but the smile doesn’t fade. Yuu’s argument fails to convince the enthusiastic dorm leader that he hasn’t personally been welcomed inside the dorm by the great Player.

“So…” Yuu begins leadingly, hoping to conclude what is sure to be another request to stay in Ramshackle over break quickly. “Ah yes,” Kalim says as he sets his hands on his hips, “I’ve heard you are in need of one bajillion madol. That’s just terrible Yuu!” The prefect of Ramshackle is momentarily taken aback, “How did you even hear about that…You know what, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I don’t owe Azul any money and none of you weirdos are staying in my house. Just no.”

Breaking and entering

The snowdrifts were deep, deep enough to reach the bottom of the windowsill Epel heaved himself against. Once, twice, thrice and then it gives and slides open with a moan. “Welcome home to you too, Player,” Epel replies in a giddy tone before sliding into the room and shutting out the cold draft with the old window. He is practically patting himself on the back at how he’s planned the perfect crime. Why ask Yuu for permission to stay when everyone knows Yuu won’t be here to forbid entry anyway. He’ll just quietly let himself in, enjoy the best Winter Break ever and then quietly leave. No one will ever have to know.

“HEY PUNK! What are you doing here!” shouts a stern voice from the darkened room. Epel stumbles from the window and into a lamp. Since he is lucky enough to have that option handed to him, he pulls the chain to allow the lamp to flicker to life. An unbelievable sight awaits him inside the room. “Whaaaa!!!” he exclaims before scowling back and returning the question, “What em I doin’ here? What ere ya doin’ here! Ace! Deuce! Ya ain’t supposed to be here!”

Ace points at Epel and now everyone is pointing at each other, “Like you should talk! We just caught you breaking into poor Yuu’s house. Don’t you have any respect for the rules?” Lines in Epel’s forehead deepen as he scowls more, “Rules? Like you should talk. You’re supposed to be in this Chapter. What are you going to do when Yuu contacts you to save them from Scarabia?” At this, Deuce looks guilty, “Wha…well. Well, we were thinking we’d just pretend we were too far away to make it in time.” Then he holds up his hand to his chest as though he’d provided an answer worthy of an honor student.

“That’s so stupid. Even for you,” comes a taunting voice from deeper in the hall. Jack saunters in the room with a cactus under each arm. Then he carefully sets them up near the windows for sunlight and turns to address his classmates, “Look, I don’t think any of you should be here. This isn’t respectful of Yuu or the Player. You should go.” Ace and Deuce momentarily shocked by his audacity before teaming up to accuse him, “Us? You’re here too! How do you figure you can be here and we can’t? We know Yuu didn’t invite anyone to stay. You’re intruding too!” Jack puts on a smug grin, “Not so. I asked Yuu to watch my plants for me.” Then he taps the little cactus pots for emphasis, “Only now poor Yuu isn’t able to watch them, so what can I do? I need to help my friend out by taking care of their obligations instead. Its just what friends would do.” Now all three other freshmen are shocked. “THAT’S NOT A REAL THING!” They shout together.

“QUIET!” booms a voice from the top of the stairs, “HOW AM I TO GUARD THE DOMOCILE OF THE PLAYER WITH ALL THIS NOISE? I COULD BE MISSING THREATS TO THE PLAYER WHILE YOU ARUGE ABOUT SUCH NONSENSE!” Now Jack seems shocked as well. The whole crew unties to point at Sebek, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?” Now Sebek seems shocked, “What..What do you mean? I have to be here to guard the Player.” He gently rubs the banister of the stairs, “What would happen if someone tried to harm the Player while Yuu was away? I…I just can’t take it!” Now the crocodile fae holds his hand to his hair as he tearfully shakes his head as though the thought of it was too much for him to bear.

Epel sucks on his teeth, making a tsk sound. “So what are we gonna do bout this situation?” No one answers. Each boy knows that speaking up to demand others leave only increases the chance they will demand he leaves as well. No one is willing to risk this golden opportunity to stay in Ramshackle (with the Player!) for the rest of Winter Break. The standoff is broken by a resounding crash from upstairs. The first-years gasp and then each take off running toward the sound. What if the Player needs help?

They burst into a room and take in the scene. A random assortment of furniture crowds the space leaving very little room to maneuver. They cautiously push their way into the room and search the scene until Jack sighs and crouches down, “Here is the culprit.” He stands holding a large textbook that had fallen from the bookshelves. “So…I guess it was nothing,” Deuce says with a bashful blush beginning to coat his cheeks. How could he overreact in front of the Player like that? “Wait,” Ace says as he waves his hands, “It can’t be nothing. It’s the Player!”

They desperately gaze about the room, hoping for some sign that the Player has left for them. One by one, they draw a blank. Each slowly returns to looking at each other in puzzlement. “WAIT!” Epel shouts excitedly. They look at the small boy with hopeful eyes. “One, two, three, four…” he trails off. “Five,” Sebek finishes softly, “Five couches.” Deuce rubs his head in wonderment, “Why are there so many couches in this room? It seems excessive.” There really was no explanation why the guest room of Ramshackle contained so many random couches. But to the eager boys, this was an invitation. “It’s like the Player wants us to stay here, right?” Ace says connivingly, “They called us into this room to show us this, right? So, they want us here. And if the Player want us here…” Sebek smiles, “THEN WE ARE INVITED TO STAY!”

Later, they might have to explain to an upset Yuu why they were protecting an empty house instead of helping them fight for their life against an angry overblotted student, but for now, everything was perfect.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #self aware au #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #ace trappola #deuce spade #epel felmier #jack howl #sebek zigvolt #twst first years #ramshackle dorm

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pixel-percy · 1 year ago

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🥊 Heartsteel Universe — You haven't seen your ex in years, not since he became a famous popstar, but today is about to ruin that streak. 🥊

🥊 Word Count: 3k 🥊 Music Vibes: Down Bad by Taylor Swift 🥊 Warning(s): Smut (fingering), public sex (technically), angst (about your ex/non-mutual break-up), & a sprinkle of jealousy 🥊 A/N: Apologies if there are any egregious errors, I've been trying to get this fic out of my head for so long now so I hunkered down to finally push it out today. I'll probably go back at a later date to spruce it up if it needs it. I passively enjoy League content & have favorites despite not having played in many years 🥰 heh

He probably thought you didn’t recognize him… But you did. Of course, you did. How couldn’t you? Sure, he was a pop star, glitz and glam probably filled his every moment nowadays, but he was still your ex-boyfriend.

A chorus of “SETT!”s at the highest pitch possible had carried through the gym air and met your ears at the front desk. You did your best to stave off the annoyed expression on your face—not just because there was a high possibility of seeing him, but because the sound of the fangirls that played a hand in ruining your relationship rattled you to your bones. Of course, he’d choose this gym. Of course.

So when Sett had finally passed by the desk, you thought you might have gotten lucky since his head was turned, but at the last second, he’d locked eyes with you. A surge of emotions passed through your body like an electric shock. It was hard to tell what exactly he was feeling, and part of you was trying desperately not to care, but you could have sworn you saw a hint of sadness mixed with surprise before his security team pulled him away. The fangirls pushed against the security at the front of the gym, shouting and waving their posters and other memorabilia they wanted him to sign. You rolled your eyes and returned to the task you’d been doing before the chaos of your ex’s entrance.

You’d done everything in your power to push through the slew of emotions you felt weighing on your chest—you were pretty sure you’d cleaned a single machine at least three times in a row while in your emotional daze—and didn’t spot him once after his initial entrance. You weren’t sure if you were relieved or not and by the time you made it to the end of your shift at midnight, you were ready to blow off some steam.

The gloves you donned were thick and absorbed each punch that collided with the punching bag. One, two. One, two, three. One. One, two. You timed the hits with your breaths as a guitar solo pulsed in your earphones and sweat dripped down your forehead.

It had been a year since you’d last had contact with Sett, or, since you cut off your communication with him. The decision wasn’t easy but it was what you felt was best for you and your mental at the time. You remember how he pleaded, holding your hands in his, absolutely dwarfing them, eyes big and tearful, but your pain was too much, the paranoia was too much.

The magazine that sparked the argument in the first place sat between you. On the cover was a story about him, the upcoming star, and Ahri, from KDA, and their potential romance brewing. This was in addition to the already circulating rumor amongst fans about him and his bandmate, Aphelios. He denied it all, doing everything he could to convince you, but between them, the fans, and the comments they made about you, it was just too much. You couldn’t take it and you couldn’t bear the idea of forcing him to deal with your emotions on top of his big break. So you cut off.

The punch you landed was a little rough, bending your wrist more than intended, and you felt the sobering pain radiate through your hand. You practically growled at the feeling and shook it out in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension you felt already building in your tendons. The room you were in was empty, it was rare to see it full at this time of night, and you were thankful for it.

That bubble of frustration you’d felt in your chest pushed out and you sent all of it through your next punch. The impact sent the punching bag flying… but not as far as you thought it might go. You blinked and noticed a pair of hands holding on to either side. A head peered around the object—red hair with two ears poking out of the top of the strands, a long scar across his nose, and familiar green-blue eyes.

You could make out the words “Hey” and your name and you contemplated leaving in your headphones before he gently tapped his ears. A request. Your jaw clenched, taking a long moment to consider him before you pulled out your headphones and pocketed them.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, a bit cold. His sheepish smile turned downward ever so slightly and his ears flattened on his head. There was a small bloom of sadness in your chest seeing it.

“Just, you know, working out,” he answered.

“I hoped you would’ve been gone by now.”

His expression dropped completely at that point.

“You did?”

Your jaw clenched. Everything in you wanted to not be in this situation, to see his sad expressions, to feel so damn bad about being cold to him, but you didn’t know what else to do. Inviting the heartache of leaving him back into your life, even for a moment, wasn’t something wanted. Flashes of his tear-filled eyes watching you as you left with your bags of stuff crossed your mind and it made you start moving.

You moved past him and into the rows of punching bags in this part of the gym. From behind you, he said your name and pleaded for your attention, but you wanted out. You almost made it to the bench your stuff was on when you felt his large hand wrap around your forearm. It wasn’t a rough touch, but it was firm enough to pull your eyes back to him.

“What did I do to make you hate me so much?” he asked, confusion and pain in his words. You knew tugging yourself free would be useless so you stood your ground and stared him down. His touch was like molten lava seeping into your skin. You didn’t hate him, you hated the people that came with his fame and the lack of protection to shield you from them.

“I don’t hate you,” you said quietly.

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“Because being in the same vicinity as you is painful.”

Sett paused and his brows furrowed.

“You were the one that broke up with me,” he said, words laced with the hurt you imagined he was also feeling. You stared at each other for a long moment. Nothing that came to mind could quell the tension nor the steady increase of your heartbeat. It all just fell flat.

“Let me go,” you said, tugging at your arm, the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes despite all your attempts to stop them.

He huffed in disbelief.

“I haven’t seen you in a year. Not since you just, decided for the both of us that this wasn’t going to work. I’ve never known you to be so… So cruel,” he said. Sett’s eyes were as devastating as his words. It felt like a knife digging into your chest, threatening to carve your heart out.

“Sett, please,” you tried and turned your eyes down to where he held you.

“No, talk to me, please.”

“I have nothing,” you said. “I told you why I was leaving.”

“No, you gave me bullshit excuses and scenarios that didn’t exist,” he pushed… and he was right. You knew he was even back then when he sat across from you on the couch clasping your hands in his and tears streaming down his cheeks, just trying to understand.

“They weren’t excuses, Sett. I was so proud of you—s-still am, but…” You looked up at him and flared your nostrils with a sigh. There was no avoiding this. “Neither of us could have known how quickly fame would come. How possessive Heartsteel’s fans would be. How… brutal they’d be to me. How brutal it would be for me to watch rumors about affairs swirl. I couldn’t do it. I wanted you so bad, I wanted us, but I knew I couldn’t have you and… and…”

The tears had begun to fall. You cursed under your breath and wiped your free hand against your cheek, tears settling on the material boxing glove you still wore. Sett stepped forward and pressed his thumb over the new tear that had already begun its descent down your cheek. You recoiled a little but in response, he caught your chin and tilted up so you could look at him.

“You always had me,” he whispered. “Still do.”

Everything in you that wanted to bolt, to hide from the shame and sadness and anger seeing him made you feel, stilled. Your heartbeat pounded in your throat at his touch, at his attention, and you swallowed hard under his intense examination. The blue-green of his eyes felt so familiar and safe that it made the knot in your chest twist and expand.

“Sett… I don’t think we could even if we—”

“Why not?” he pushed. “I don’t care what any of them think. I never have. You didn’t even give me the chance to fight for us. For you… You just left.”

“I was scared. I didn’t want my heart broken by you… So I broke it for myself. I thought it’d be easier and it was but… Now…”

His ears twitched, a beam of hopefulness crossing his expression.

“Now? What about now?” he asked.

You didn’t know. A part of you felt so hopeful, so ready to try again just from his magnetic pull alone. How safe he made you feel. That hadn’t changed. You opened your mouth to say something but the sound of the door opening startled you both. Sett’s grip loosened enough for you to pull your arm away, both of you looking toward the interruption. A man in a suit you recognized as one of his security guards had begun approaching.

“There you are, sir—”

“Jackson, not now—No wait!” Sett called your name.

You’d already managed to get one of your gloves off so you could grab your bag and head toward the private bathrooms. You felt like you couldn’t breathe with his hand on your arm and now was your chance to pull yourself out of his orbit before you did something stupid.

You only managed to get to the door before you were stopped again by something yanking you to a stop, but this time it was the handle of your gym bag. You twisted around, ready to fight someone, but instead was met with a quick blur of Sett’s figure before his lips crashed into yours.

It was bold, something you hadn’t anticipated, and while you wanted to pull away… you felt him punching at the icy wall you’d built for yourself after everything. Every breath, every motion, everything felt like he was chipping at it piece by piece, until, well… It shattered.

Your free hand opened the door to the private bathroom and you dragged him into it. You were thankful that the cameras didn’t touch this part of the hallway, which only spurred on this potential mistake.

The two of you stumbled into the space—it was typically reserved for gym employees and special guests who wanted to avoid the more public locker rooms. It was spacious enough to house the usual bathroom amenities plus a bench for you to utilize as needed and the standing shower was nestled into the corner, blocked by the door whenever it was open.

Sett closed the door and locked it once you were both inside before his large hands clasped onto the back of your thighs to pull you into the air effortlessly. The bag you’d both been holding onto tumbled to the floor, kicked by the shuffle of his feet. Your back met the wall across from the door, inhaling deeply when his lips left yours to nip at your neck.

“Sett,” you tried, breathless.

“I’ve missed you—” His lips pressed urgently against your pulse. “So much.”

“Sett… We can’t… I can’t…”

Your mind was whirling at the feel of him, the heat he elicited from your body. His lips slowed to an agonizing pace but he heeded your words, head picking up to look directly into your eyes, surprised to find them not fully enveloped in lust… It was the adoration, the haze of love, that made your heart stutter. You could cry.

“I can stop,” he whispered. Sett’s gaze dropped to your lips. “I just…” You waited, drawing in a breath so deep that the orange-scented cleaner you were familiar with tingled in your nose.

All of your emotions and warning bells were as loud and overwhelming as an extreme weather siren. You shouldn’t do this. Any progress you’d made—either of you had made—was already shattered, leaving you vulnerable. But you still found yourself asking, “What?” It was just as soft as his whisper, timid, afraid.

Sett took in a similarly deep breath, except a hum danced within his throat and rumbled through his chest like a growl.

“I don’t want to,” he said with a small, bashful laugh. One of his fangs pulled at his lip as he turned his eyes back up to yours. “I want to keep touching you… But only if you want me to. I can also leave. Just—Just tell me—” You placed one of your index fingers on his lips and he promptly stopped talking.

You didn’t know what to do. Everything in you knew this was likely temporary, and the moment he left this room, things would go right back to the way they were, except this time with brand new wounds on your heart to cater to. But here he was, looking at you with his eyes, ears flat against his head, waiting for you to make your call, and probably just as scared as you. A sigh left you.

“Go ahead,” you said. Sett’s ears twitched, expression lightening. “Touch me.”

You got the feeling he’d waited for you out of courtesy, for you to potentially change your mind after that statement, but seized your lips with his after barely a second. His eagerness stole the breath from you, resulting in a chuckle that he inhaled and returned. He moved you toward the bench and effortlessly placed you down on it, lips never leaving yours.

The rush of approval had him on a mission that you guessed involved the shedding and ripping of clothes—but you were wrong. Instead, one of the hands that had been holding you reached down, slid past your waistband and started to work. A surprised gasp left your lips. He pulled away to gaze down at your face as it writhed in pleasure. The way his fingers moved against your clit was so deliciously familiar and mindful with every circle.

You instinctively reached one of your hands down toward his growing bulge to provide some mutual relief, another familiar motion, but was stopped by Sett’s free hand. You brow furrowed and he leaned down to place a soft kiss upon it whilst guiding the hand he’d stopped on his neck.

For a fraction of a second, you wondered if the world knew about this Sett, this loving, calm, goofy, loyal man you’d always known. Not just fist fights and bad boy leaning tendencies.

You selfishly hoped they never would.

“No, just you this time,” he said. You clocked the ‘this time’ but it was stifled the moment you felt one of his fingers ease into you. Your back arched.

Any protests you had left with the rest of your reservations about all of this. You nodded, warmth pooling in your cheeks now, and rolled your eyes back when the finger he’d slipped inside of you touched that spot he knew very well. Your body twitched, your other hand grabbing as much of his bicep as you could for balance, and let him work.

Sett’s mouth trailed kisses anywhere he felt like it as his fingers moved. Little whispers of your name left him occasionally but you could barely hear it over the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. You wished you weren’t so close to coming already, you wished he didn’t know you in and out in every way imaginable, yet here you were about to topple over the edge of bliss at the hands of a man you still loved—no matter how much you wanted to deny it.

“Sett,” you gasped.

“I know,” he assured, the hand on your hip the only thing truly grounding you to this plane of existence.

The tightness in your stomach finally released, a moan tumbling from your lips as stars danced behind your eyelids. Sett helped you ride through your orgasm with targeted praise, soft touches, and lips. Everything about his patience and opt for celibacy just added to your surprise about everything. He helped you to a sitting position and rubbed your back, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I…” You blew hot air out into the room. “Shit.” Sett laughed and brought one of your hands up to his lips.

“Yeah,” he said knowingly. You turned to catch his gaze, a smile breaking out on his lips that you couldn’t help but return. “Can I… give you a ride home?”

Reality started to set in after the high and you could feel the hardening of your heart begin again. You bit your lip in contemplation. His expression started to soften again, almost as though he were ready to be hurt by your rejection once more.

“Alright,” you said. The creeping freeze of your heart halted enough for you to add, “Maybe we can grab late-night ramen and talk…?”

“I’d like that,” he answered.

“Do not text your Mom about this,” you added with a deadpan look that made him laugh. He got to his feet and gently tapped his knuckles against your chin.

“No promises,” he said cheekily. You rolled your eyes, free of any real annoyance, and smiled. No matter what you wanted yourself to believe, you missed him too.

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