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promptedwordsmith · 2 days ago

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Hiyaaa

I have a request , if that’s fine with you?

So Reader is MC’s long lost twin sister, they reunited a bit after and have been close ever since.

Reader is much different to MC , she likes the opposite things that mc likes and has different ticks and such.

She has a crush on (any of the LADS boys) and slowly watches as he falls in love with MC. She doesn’t say anything as she knows MC likes him too.

She gets invited out by sylus and slowly hangs out with him as she isn’t a hunter but does work in the N109 Zone. They soon get close and get into some sort of relationship , she then notices he keeps buying stuff that MC would like for her.

She brushes over it but he keeps doing stuff that the Mc would like usually, the food she’d like, the clothes she’d like.

She gets sick of being in her sisters shadow and confronts him and leaves.

OK, so I literally watched this ask come into the inbox and it was like a lightbulb switched on and I NEEDED to do this I love writing angst, this is also my longest fic yet - 5.2k! Wow

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the quiet city streets. The air was cool for a spring evening, a gentle breeze tugging at the edges of your jacket. You adjusted the strap of your bag, sighing as you looked down at the study materials clutched in your hand. The exam was tomorrow, but the words in your textbooks felt like they were swimming in a fog. Your mind kept drifting, not to the dense chapters of history or theory, but to her—your twin sister.

It had been years since that night, the night that shattered everything. You could still remember it as if it was yesterday—your parents' sudden, tragic death, the screaming sirens, and the confusion. And then, the moment you looked for her—searched frantically in the smoke-filled wreckage—only to find that she was gone, just... gone. You were left alone, confused, scared, and eventually, separated from the one person who had always understood you. Your twin.

The accident had changed her. The doctors said she was lost, somewhere deep inside herself, locked away in a mind that didn’t remember you anymore. But what hurt even more was that you had no one to ask. No one to explain what had happened, or why you had been torn apart. Your adoptive parents had been kind, if a bit too overbearing at times. They tried to fill the void, but they couldn’t. No one could.

You had learned to adapt, to bury the ache in your chest, and to focus on your studies, your goals. But even now, on the eve of the exam, you couldn’t stop the thoughts of her. You couldn’t forget.

Turning a corner, you stopped in your tracks.

There, standing under the flickering streetlamp at the end of the block, was a woman. She was looking down at a piece of paper in her hands, dressed in a long, dark coat, her hair flowing gently in the breeze. Something about her was oddly familiar, like a half-remembered dream, pulling at the edges of your consciousness.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your heart hammering in your chest. It was as though the universe had conspired to throw you back into the past. Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a tentative step forward, hesitating with every step.

She looked up, and your gazes locked.

The world around you seemed to fall away, the bustling city noises blurring into a distant hum. The world became small—too small, as if everything else had faded and there was only her. The same eyes, the same face... The face you had longed to see for so many years, and yet, the years had passed, and there was something different about her now.

The wind picked up, swirling the air between you as you took one more step forward. She looked... older, wiser, more distant. But it was her. It had to be her.

She didn’t say anything at first. Neither did you. You just stood there, staring at one another, time stretching thin between you.

“...Are you real?” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, your chest tight. The question escaped your lips before you could stop it.

She blinked, her expression softening, and then she took a step toward you, as though testing the waters, unsure if the reunion was truly happening or if she was simply dreaming.

“You... don’t remember me?” Her voice cracked slightly, almost as if she, too, had been carrying this pain for all these years, but had somehow forgotten how to reach out. Her words hit you like a wave, and you couldn’t breathe.

You opened your mouth, the years of unspoken words flooding your mind. “I’ve been looking for you,” you whispered, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. “I thought you were lost.”

Her hand slowly reached out, trembling. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before placing it gently against your arm. “I—I’ve been lost,” she admitted softly, her gaze lowering for a brief moment. “But... I think I’ve found something again.”

And in that moment, standing there with your twin sister after so many years, something broke open inside you. All the hurt, the loneliness, the anger... it all began to pour out, mixing with the relief and joy that surged in your chest.

You didn’t need words for a while. You just stood there, side by side, as the cool breeze tangled in your hair, the world beginning to shift back into place as though the years had never happened.

You had found her again. And she had found you.

From that moment on, you were always together.

The years apart had created a distance, not just physically, but emotionally, and it was clear you had to relearn everything about each other. Every day was a new discovery—a moment where you would uncover something that had once been second nature between you. It was like rewinding time, only to realize how much had changed and how much still remained. It wasn’t easy at first. Trust was something you both had to rebuild, piece by piece, like constructing a puzzle you’d once finished but now had to start anew. But as the days passed, that bond, that unspoken connection, began to stitch itself back together in ways you never expected.

You learned so much—how different you had become over the years. You realized you had vastly different food tastes—she loved spicy, you preferred sweeter dishes. She always gravitated toward bold, vibrant colors, while you found comfort in softer, more muted tones. Even your tastes in men were different, and that was a shock at first. You would laugh at the things you found so amusingly out of sync—how she was drawn to a certain type of guy, while you found yourself leaning toward someone else entirely. And yet, every difference felt like another piece of the puzzle, making you realize how beautifully unique you both were.

You adored the differences. They were like little windows into the person you had missed all these years. Every new fact felt like an adventure, and the more there was to discover, the better. There was something so exciting about learning her quirks, her preferences, the subtle shifts in her personality you hadn't seen in years. And whenever you discovered something that you shared—whether it was a similar reaction to a movie or the same favorite childhood memory—it felt like a victory. It wasn’t just the similarities that made it fun, it was the process of rediscovery. And those small shared moments, they made you feel closer, like you were stitching the fabric of your connection tighter with each day.

As you spent more time together, you naturally introduced each other to your friends, and you couldn’t help but notice something that piqued your curiosity. Your sister, with her charm and warmth, had a lot of male friends—attractive male friends. You could see it the moment they walked in the room—the way they gravitated toward her, how they’d exchange casual, easy banter as though they had known each other forever. It was a little surprising at first, but not entirely unexpected. She had always been the social one, effortlessly making connections wherever she went.

But there was one guy who stood out among the rest.

Caleb.

He was different. There was something about the way he carried himself—confident, but not overly so. He had this easy-going charm, with a touch of mystery that made him hard to read. You noticed the way he looked at your sister—like she was something worth admiring, something worth protecting. But it was also the way he looked at you. Subtle glances, the kind that made your heart race for a moment longer than it should. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Caleb than he let on.

You couldn’t deny the attraction, the pull that seemed to draw you toward him. It was more than just physical. There was something in his presence that made the air feel a little warmer, a little more electric.

And it wasn’t lost on you that Caleb was always there. Always around, always at the edge of the conversation, casually participating, but never intruding. He made you feel like you had to pay a little more attention, like you needed to be aware of everything happening in the room, even when it was just your sister and her friends hanging out.

The more you spent time with him, the more you realized that what you felt for Caleb wasn’t just admiration—it was something stronger. Something unspoken, something that pulled at the edges of your consciousness, making it impossible to ignore. You were drawn to him, and yet you couldn’t tell if it was just your curiosity or something more.

What made it even more complicated was your sister. She was so open, so comfortable with him. She trusted him in ways that made you question just how much you really knew about him. Could you both be seeing the same man in such different lights? Or was something else at play here—something you weren’t sure you were ready to face?

And so, as you navigated this new chapter of your life—one where your sister was back by your side and Caleb was somehow intertwined with everything—it was impossible to ignore the sense that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

But maybe, just maybe, that was the fun part.

You had always been so happy for her. When you saw the way your sister looked at Zayne, the way she couldn’t stop talking about him or looking for him, it was clear that she was head over heels. You had never seen her so alive, so full of excitement. You were thrilled for her, even if, deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have someone like that in your own life.

And yet, it all seemed to shift so suddenly.

You didn’t expect to walk into your bedroom that evening and find Caleb leaning over her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. You stopped at the doorway, your heart sinking in your chest. The moment felt like it stretched for an eternity, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling suffocating. Caleb’s lips were so close to hers, so tender, and in that instant, everything you thought you understood about your connection with him seemed to slip away.

You had spent weeks getting to know him, laughing with him, sharing subtle glances, those moments that made your heart race. You thought you were beginning to get somewhere with him, slowly, cautiously building something, but now it seemed like he had already found what he wanted.

Your sister.

The realization hit harder than you expected. You hadn’t spent enough time with him, hadn’t made him see you in the same way she had. Maybe you had waited too long, or maybe Caleb had simply been drawn to the one person who had always captivated him—your sister. The thought was like a weight on your chest, suffocating you, but you couldn’t let it show. Not now.

You cleared your throat, the awkwardness of the moment making your voice sound more strained than you intended. "Oh, sorry," you muttered, trying to sound casual, like walking in on them didn’t sting at all. "I didn’t mean to interrupt."

Caleb pulled away quickly, looking genuinely embarrassed, while your sister turned to you, her cheeks flushed with the same warmth that had been on Caleb’s lips. You could see the joy in her eyes, that sparkle that was so unmistakable. She was happy. That much was clear. And you were happy for her too... right?

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way your heart was shattering into pieces. "No big deal," you added quickly, hoping your voice didn’t betray the devastation you felt inside. "I didn’t know you two were, um... together now."

Your sister giggled, her face lighting up with excitement. "Yeah, it kind of just happened," she said, her words soft and dreamy. "I didn’t even know I saw him that way before, but now... I can’t stop thinking about him. Caleb’s all I can think about."

You swallowed hard, nodding even though your chest felt tight. Caleb's all she can think about. The words echoed in your mind, each one a reminder of how you had misread everything. You had spent so much time hoping that maybe, just maybe, Caleb was beginning to see you, and yet here he was, kissing your sister, the one person who had always been in the center of everything you cared about.

"That’s... that’s great," you forced out, your smile faltering just for a second before you caught yourself. You couldn’t let her see. Not now. Not when she was so happy.

That night, as you both sat together on your bed, your sister gushed about Caleb to you—how she had never really seen him in that light before, but now that she had, he was all she could think about. She talked about how incredible he was, how easy he was to talk to, how he made her feel seen. It was clear that Caleb had become her world in a way you hadn’t expected. The excitement in her voice, the warmth in her words—it was everything you had wished for her, and yet, the sting of jealousy cut deeper than anything you had ever felt before.

But you didn’t let it show. You buried those feelings deep, far down where they wouldn’t be seen. She didn’t need to know that the happiness she was expressing had left you in a state of quiet devastation. You couldn’t make her feel guilty for being happy. You loved her too much for that.

So, you sat there, nodding, smiling, laughing along with her excitement, all while hiding the fact that a part of you was crumbling on the inside. You pushed the hurt away, because you wanted her to feel supported, to feel that you were there for her, no matter what. And if that meant hiding your feelings from her—hiding how much it hurt that Caleb, the man you thought might be yours, was now hers—then you would do it.

After all, she was your sister. And she deserved this happiness. Even if it meant you had to sacrifice your own.

In the weeks that followed, you worked hard to move past your feelings for Caleb. It wasn’t easy—those emotions had been strong, intense, and they hadn’t just vanished overnight. But you did your best, gradually pulling away from him, creating more distance, more space between the two of you. Every time you saw him with your sister, you pushed back the ache, burying it deeper, focusing on the things that mattered.

And Caleb? He didn’t seem to notice. At first, you weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. On one hand, it was a relief. You didn’t have to explain yourself, didn’t have to confront those feelings head-on. On the other hand, it left you feeling... invisible. Was he so wrapped up in your sister that he couldn’t even tell that something had changed?

It was both painful and freeing.

But then, just when you thought you might stay in that stagnant space forever, someone new caught your eye—Sylus.

He was different. Tall, broad, and absolutely HOT. From the moment he joined the group, you couldn’t help but notice him. He had this presence, an undeniable aura that commanded attention without even trying. His voice—deep, rich, and full of a kind of quiet authority—carried across the room and made you pause every time he spoke. There was something magnetic about him, something that drew you in. And unlike the others, Sylus seemed more... open to spending time with you one-on-one.

You couldn’t explain it, but whenever he was around, you found yourself wanting to be near him more than anyone else. The way he spoke to you, the way he listened—it felt different. His attention felt genuine, unlike the usual banter you shared with the others, and before you knew it, you were looking forward to every chance to spend time with him.

In those moments together, you found yourself forgetting about Caleb, especially when Sylus’s attention became focused entirely on you. It wasn’t just that he listened to you, but that he actually seemed interested in what you had to say. And his compliments? They were always on point—never too much, never too little. It was just the right amount of praise to make you feel noticed, but never over the top.

The more time you spent with Sylus, the more you realized that your feelings for Caleb were truly fading, being replaced with something new. And this time, it was something stronger. You weren’t the type of person to rapidly shift who you liked, but there was something about Sylus that you couldn’t deny.

There was an intoxicating mix of calm and excitement in his presence—his voice, the way he held himself, the way he challenged you with his wit. When he spoke, it was like everything else fell away, and all that mattered was the conversation between the two of you. It was thrilling. Sylus had this ability to calm you with a single glance, yet rile you up with every word he said. The duality of it all was intoxicating, and you found yourself more drawn to him with each passing day.

And it didn’t go unnoticed. Sylus seemed to enjoy your company as much as you enjoyed his. You could tell by the way he teased you, the sly smile that would tug at the corner of his lips whenever you got a witty retort in. He would praise you, telling you that you were one of the few people who truly kept him entertained. It felt different from how he interacted with the others—more personal, more real.

It was almost like you were the one person he didn’t have to try too hard with, the one person who could match his sharpness, his intelligence, and his sense of humor. Every time you spent time with him, you felt like you were getting closer, like a bond was forming that you couldn’t ignore.

And you didn’t want to ignore it. You didn’t want to bury it.

The problem was, you weren’t sure if Sylus felt the same way you did. But the moments you shared together, the laughter, the conversations, the way he looked at you—those small, intimate exchanges made you feel like you were more than just another face in the crowd.

As time went on, you began to wonder... Could there be something real between you and Sylus? Something beyond the friendly banter and the chemistry that had begun to grow between you two? You weren’t sure, but the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to find out.

For the first time in weeks, it felt like you were starting to feel again. And this time, it wasn’t with Caleb—it was with Sylus.

It all changed that day.

You had thrown out another one of your usual witty retorts, something playful but sharp, and the way Sylus laughed made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just any laugh—this was different. He laughed harder than you’d ever heard him laugh at anything you’d said before, as if your words had truly caught him off guard. It was genuine, deep, and there was something about it that made you feel... alive.

But it wasn’t just the laugh that had you on edge. It was the look that followed it—the way his gaze lingered on you afterward. It was almost imperceptible at first, but the intensity of it hit you in an instant. His eyes darkened just a little, like the playful laughter had shifted into something else entirely. Something... charged. Smoldering.

You had felt a twinge of attraction before, but this was different. This wasn’t the kind of attraction you could brush off with a casual smile or a quick change of subject. This was real. Undeniable. The kind that made your pulse quicken and your breath catch.

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement as you realized what it was. It wasn’t the easy chemistry you shared during your banter—it was something deeper. Something dangerous in the best way. Something that left you craving more.

And that moment marked the beginning of a whirlwind.

The next few days felt like a dream. Everything moved fast, but it was all so right. Sylus and you, the two of you together—it was like the world fell into place. You spent hours talking, laughing, and simply being together. Every time he smiled, every time his gaze met yours, you felt the undeniable pull between you. And he wanted you. You could see it in the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he leaned in just a little closer than necessary. There was no mistaking it. This wasn’t a fling. It was real.

For five weeks, it was bliss. You felt happy in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time. With Sylus, you didn’t feel the weight of anything—no doubts, no second-guessing. It was pure, it was exhilarating, and it felt like everything was falling into place.

Your sister, ever the cheerleader, was beyond excited for you. She practically glowed with happiness whenever she talked about your relationship, always praising how great Sylus was for you, how perfect you seemed together. She was genuinely happy for you, and that made everything even better. You had always dreamed of being there for each other, no matter what, and now, here she was—celebrating your happiness right alongside you.

Even Caleb, for all the tension and unspoken feelings you had shared with him, came to congratulate you. It was strange, but in a way, it felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders. He wasn’t resentful. In fact, he seemed to mean it, offering you a smile and a casual, "You two seem good together."

And for the first time in ages, you felt like everything was aligning in the way it was supposed to.

You were happy. Your sister was happy. Caleb was supportive. And you had Sylus—your Sylus. The man who had brought something back into your life you hadn’t even realized you were missing: passion.

It felt like the perfect little bubble—one where everything was harmonious, where there were no complications, no unresolved tensions.

But as you basked in that bliss, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder—could it really stay like this? Would it always be this easy? The kind of happiness you were feeling, the intensity of your connection with Sylus—it was almost too good to be true.

And yet, you pushed those thoughts aside. For now, everything was perfect.

At first, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was small things, subtle things that didn’t make sense at first—until they did.

Sylus’s behavior began to shift. At first, it was easy to ignore. You were happy. He was happy. It was bliss. But then, the little things started to slip through the cracks.

He would do things—small gestures—that felt like they were meant for someone else. Like when he gave you a plushie that looked oddly similar to one your sister would love. Or the little trinkets he’d bring you, clearly in your sister’s favorite color, her favorite pattern. You’d laugh it off at first, joking about how he must’ve gotten confused, but it kept happening. And it wasn’t just the gifts—it was the way he started to interact with you. Sometimes, it felt like he expected you to react the same way your sister would. When he teased you, the way he smiled at your response, the way he looked at you as if he were waiting for you to be your sister.

At first, you dismissed it. Maybe it was just a quirk of his. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing. You told yourself that he must just be a little... forgetful, or perhaps overly fond of your sister's personality. After all, they were close friends before you came into the picture.

But soon, it became too obvious to ignore.

You caught him. More than once. His gaze would linger on your sister when he thought no one was watching. The longing, the desire—it was palpable in the way his eyes followed her movements, the way his expression softened whenever she spoke. And you saw it. You saw it all.

You thought it was just you. That maybe you were reading too much into things, that maybe you were imagining the way his attention seemed to always drift toward her. But then you started noticing how often his attention seemed to shift, how you could feel him becoming distant in the moments when your sister was around. When the two of them would talk, you could sense it—something you couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t just in the moment with you anymore. It was as if he was waiting for something, waiting for her, always comparing you to her.

That’s when it hit you. The truth that you’d been avoiding for so long.

You weren’t really the one he wanted.

You were a stand-in. A placeholder. A substitute for your sister. The realization was like a punch to your gut, a sharp, jagged truth that twisted inside you. Sylus had been drawn to you because you reminded him of her, because you were the closest thing he could get to her.

It hurt more than you ever expected.

You thought you were special. You thought there was something between you two that wasn’t just about her, but now you realized that you had only been the next best thing. A consolation prize for the woman he truly wanted.

You tried to push the thought aside. You tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t true. That you were more than just a stand-in, that Sylus could see you for who you were—not for who you resembled. After all, you were funny, witty, confident—you had your own charm, your own uniqueness. You weren't your sister. You were you. And surely, that should have been enough.

But still, you couldn’t ignore the truth that simmered beneath the surface. Sylus seemed to be looking at your sister with an intensity that he never directed at you, no matter how many times you tried to make him see you as more than just a shadow of her.

You told yourself that if you just kept being you—if you kept showing him that you were interesting, funny, and as unique as you truly were—then maybe, just maybe, he’d see you. Maybe he’d see that you were more than just a stand-in. That you deserved more than to be a shadow in your sister’s light.

But the doubt lingered, gnawing at you. Every time he smiled at you with that distant look in his eyes, every time he gave you something that seemed like a gift meant for her, you couldn’t help but feel like you were chasing something you couldn’t quite reach.

And you hated that. You hated how much it hurt to realize that the person you were falling for might never really be falling for you.

It was that night—the night everything snapped.

He had come home with a beautiful pair of earrings, the kind that glittered in the light and caught your eye the moment he handed them to you. You were taken aback by their beauty, thinking, maybe this is the turning point. Maybe he was finally seeing you, you for who you were, not a reflection of your sister.

But then he spoke.

“You’ve been eyeing these for a while now, haven’t you? I thought I’d surprise you with them. You said you wanted to start saving for a pair like these.”

Your stomach sank. That wasn’t you. You hadn’t ever seen these earrings before, and more than that—they weren’t even your style. They were elegant, delicate, beautiful, but they looked like something your sister would wear. Something she would pick.

Your hands trembled as you stared at the earrings in disbelief. He had gotten them for her. They weren’t for you.

It was as though the fog had lifted in that moment, and the truth came crashing down. Your heart, which had been trying so hard to hold on to the illusion that Sylus saw you for who you were, shattered in an instant. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think.

“Wait… you thought I wanted these?” You forced the words out, your voice shaky. “These aren’t mine. They’re hers. They’re for her.”

The shock on his face, the confusion that washed over him, made your chest tighten even more. He tried to explain, tried to cut in with some excuse, but you didn’t want to hear it anymore. You had been so patient, so willing to let him see you, to let him find what was special about you.

But this? This was the final straw.

“No,” you cut him off, the anger and pain bubbling over. “I’ve been ignoring it for so long, hoping you’d finally see that I’m not her. I’m me, but you never did. You’ve been treating me like I’m a substitute for her. A stand-in for someone who isn’t even here.”

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but you didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop.” Your voice was harsh now, sharper than you ever thought it could be. “I’m done with the excuses. You’ve made it so clear that I’m just the next best thing. You’ve made it so clear that no matter what I do, I’ll never be enough. I’m not her.”

Every word you spoke felt like a knife twisting deeper, but it didn’t matter anymore. You couldn’t keep pretending. You couldn’t keep hoping he would finally wake up and realize you were more than just a stand-in.

Sylus tried to step forward, to apologize, but you weren’t having it.

“Don’t,” you snapped, your heart pounding, your emotions raw. “Don’t even try. This is over. We’re over.”

You turned away, your vision blurring as your emotions surged. You grabbed the things he’d given you—the gifts, the memories, the little trinkets he had left scattered around your apartment. Each one felt like a betrayal now, a reminder that you were never really his first choice. You packed them hastily into a bag, shoving them into his arms before he could say another word.

“I’m done. Get out,” you forced out, each word a struggle to maintain composure. You shoved the bag into his chest, feeling the finality of it. This was it.

You didn’t want to hear anything else. You didn’t want to see him.

Sylus stood there for a moment, the shock still etched on his face. But you didn’t care anymore. Your heart was too broken to care.

With one final glance, he turned and walked out, leaving you standing there, the door slamming behind him with a deafening finality.

And in that moment, you knew. It was over.

The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

#Sylus #Sylus x mc #Sylus x reader #Sylus x you #Sylus love and deepspace #sylus lads #lads sylus #lads x you #lads x reader

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winterzsurprise · 2 days ago

Text

Change My Mind [7]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 8.6k

IM BACK

laptop problem is solved. Shit was shady though (i literally have to pay the guy money for his 'efforts' in lying to get my laptop fixed) but its worth the money so idc. Rushed to finish this so this shit ain't beta read nor proofed, that's for Vuinterro of tomorrow to stress about. Will still take long to post chapters, might take a month per chapter. It really depends since I'm using this fic to fix my horrid writer's block and brain fog but I plan to see this fic through so dwww

also, what do you all think about having purely the boys' pov at some point in the story? Been thinking about having the boys' perspectives once the courting starts but that's prolly just me

lastly, enjoy this chapter. I hope my tired mind was able to write my vision down clearly, I'll fix the mistakes and add more details later on. Pls comment or like, I'm in desperate need for validation lmao

<<Prev || Masterlist || Next>>

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Jung Hoseok is not scared.

Sure he screams bloody mary at the sight of bugs a thousand times smaller than him, and yeah he’s easily startled but he’s not scared.

Especially not by a piece of paper, that would be ridiculous!

The reason he went to his noona’s house instead of heading straight to the dorms after the news broke out that his Seokjin hyung is tethered to you is because she needed his help on something, and being the dutiful brother he is, swooped in to save the day!

“At least wash the dishes for me if you’re going to hide in my house because you’re being a scaredy cat,” Jiwoo says from the kitchen archway, leaning on the wall with her arms crossed. “I still don’t get why you’re so scared of a piece of paper. The most it’ll do is give you a small cut.”

“Well, that ‘small cut’ still stings a lot!” He argued back, pulling the throw pillow closer to his chest. “And I’m not scared!”

It was irrational how he’s getting cold feet at the thought of the blood result. It’s not like he was hoping to see anything other than ‘negative’ there.

Jimin would argue that he’s being pessimistic for thinking so but it was the obvious answer if you looked at his family tree.

From his grandparents’ parents and down to him and his sister, there hasn’t been a single tethered from his bloodline like most of the world’s population. Unlike his Jin hyung who at least had one distant cousin who got a soulmate or his Yoongi hyung who at least had his grandparents as soulmates, his family was barren from such a blessing. His grandpa had joked once, saying their family was cursed for never birthing a single tethered. Ever.

Not even with the people they ended up had ever resulted in having a tethered no matter their family background..

For him to turn out to be a part of your nexus would be a miracle of the highest degree that would make the tales in the bible pale in comparison.

Daring to have himself tested is stupid, he already knew the result and submitting his DNA meant he was hoping.

But hope is nothing in the face of facts, he should be wishing instead; prayer sticks, shaman blessings and all that.

Hoseok knew he was being greedy, wishing to be a part of a nexus relationship as crowded as yours. Growing up with the rest, he knew how much of a handful Jungkook can be on his own, matched with Jimin who now possesses bottomless energy, he has no business trying to squeeze himself in places he can’t fit in.

Sometimes he thinks he’s being influenced by the fact that he’s being singled out in the group. Now that their oldest has joined the harem, being the odd one out oddly felt ostracizing, being subjected to Taehyung and Jungkook discussing courting gifts, and Yoongi talking to Namjoon about their soulmarks shouldn’t have made him feel bitter but it did.

“You saying that while pouting on my couch, miles away from your friends who now have your exam result, is not helping your case.”

“If you don’t have anything nice to say to your brother, you shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’m saying a lot because I care about you. This,” She says, motioning to him to which he replied with an offended look. “Isn’t healthy. The more you’re hiding away, the more this will haunt you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ll have hyung over soon.”

“That I am, so just get your shit together and go! I planned a night for us but I had to move it because of you.” She shot back but he knew it had no actual snark behind it. She had welcomed him with warm arms after all.

Hoseok had seen how his friends slowly fell in love with you while he continued to look at you and see a best friend. Seeing how everyone seems to have been captured by you, he got curious.

For a long time since debut, Hoseok had stopped perfecting his craft and pursuing his aspirations to pay attention to someone else. It was uncommon but he too once wished for a soulmate until practice, video shoots, and music production began to eat up most of his time and he forgot about his initial wish.

Seeing his brothers be taken by their best friend, his crush, he couldn't help but be curious how it came to be.

Was it because you were closer to their age and, for the lack of better terms, accessible to them that they had begun to seek the comfort of a lover in you?

“Do you think because she's also been busy with us that she began to seek comfort with us too?”

“Tae, just eat your breakfast.”

It was such a random thought from Tae one random morning, and Hoseok would’ve brushed it off like the other time he gets struck with an idea but this one stuck to him like an annoying ex. The idea loomed over him the whole journey to the company and back home. He grew hypersensitive to how he approached you since that morning and he began to notice the miniscule details he would’ve shrugged off any other day.

From how your touches would linger on their skin, how you’d comfortably lean in closer to them without batting a single eye at how unusual it may seem to others, he took note of them all. It was how he knew their leader’s feelings for you, even if the man himself hadn't noticed it yet.

Hoseok found his proof in Namjoon’s eyes that restlessly roamed the room until he’d find you in the bustle of the staff. It was also in the way he’d always reach out for you, may it be when you’d turn to leave and he’d catch a drama-esque scene where instead of calling out for your name, Namjoon would reach for your hand and speak to you with that soft look in his eyes and the genuineness in the dip of his dimples when he smiles.

Eyes never lie nor do the dimples on his cheeks whenever he grins, even when the beholder hasn’t realized it yet.

It was then did he realise how odd your relationship is with them and decided to take a step back to draw a line.

Friends, especially ones whose gender are opposite of each other, aren’t supposed to be as touchy and comfortable the way you and his brothers are. You didn’t say anything when you noticed and wordlessly respected his decision. He was firm on drawing the line, his sister had questioned his actions but he’s determined, nothing is going to stop him from going back on his decision.

At least until he got sick.

Without any of his brothers available to tend to him as they had to leave for Japan the very day he fainted—he had to pass out while talking to the migration officer, so embarrassing!—, he thought he'd power through it alone for a few days. But then you volunteered to stay back to take care of him and everyone just let it happen as if it's normal.

Which is not.

He'd understand taking care of him during the job but to take a leave of absence just to watch over him because his family is unavailable due to the rough weather at the time, in a house far too big for the two of you while the rest flies to another country. It wasn’t appropriate, not normal at all.

In the haze of his high fever, he had asked you how you were acting as if the situation was normal and in response, you had hit him lightly with the drenched towel you used to wipe his face.

“Don't be ridiculous. You're one of my best friends even if you’ve been acting up these past few days. I'm not about to leave while you're sick and alone in the dorms. If your family could come to Seoul, I would've left with the others so don't overthink. This is just me being a good friend.”

Cooking for him, wiping his face and making sure he's comfortable in bed—It felt far too domestic to be friendly.

Familial doesn't sound like the right word either. There’s nothing familial about the butterflies in his stomach when you had kissed his forehead good night that day as a joke when Jimin had called you or when you had woken him up the next day.

Oh how beautiful you were that morning.

He knew at that moment that the goddess of beauty had favorites when she made your skin glow softly under the radiance of the rising morning sun like a halo and had your messy bed hair look frustratingly good on you.

You were borrowing their clothes that day since you had already got your items shipped with the other staff, Taehyung’s white striped polo hung off on you like a dress and Jimin’s red basketball shorts gobbled up your form yet even with the fabrics dwarfing and hiding the curves of your body, he still thinks you’re the cutest sight he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

You were especially cute in their clothes though.

In his feverish haze, all he could think about was how pleasant it’d be if you were to wake him up every morning like an angel welcoming him to heaven. What he’d give to the world to have you be the first thing he’d see in the morning.

Then you spoke and greeted him in that roughened sweet voice and Hoseok was gone.

Realization immediately had him freezing, tensing up as you let yourself fall across his blanket covered feet to groan about how sleepy you still are after putting down his medicine and breakfast on the bedside table. He hadn’t been able to reply, busy with tampering down the racing heartbeat echoing in his ears.

Looking back a year later, him falling in love with you wasn’t as odd as he thinks it is, uncommon but still cliche.

Jiwoo taking the space next to him made him jump, breaking off his line of thought.

“Seriously, just get it over with. The faster you see the result, the faster you can decide whether to move on or not.”

It was the most logical step to take but it felt…wrong somehow.

He couldn’t imagine a day where he’d look at you and never feel the tickles of butterflies filling his stomach or the warmth your fingers would leave behind after carding through his hair or tilting his chin up to have a better look on his makeup. It felt like an offense to the fates.

Although loving you has its downsides, with your obliviousness to their feelings whether intentional or unintentional often makes him want to pull his hair out, he’d never regret feeling the joy of admiring someone when he’s with you. Hoseok has never felt more motivated to produce music with lyrics far too romantic to come from someone who has never had a lover since pre-debut. Not that you’d see that of course.

He couldn’t remember how many times he found himself wanting to grab you by the shoulders to shake you whenever you teased him about his creations, and hoped it would be enough to let you know that all those cheesy lyrics he had uncharacteristically puked out was all because of you.

“Don’t you go souring your face like that, you know that I’m right.”

“And just because you sound right, doesn’t mean I’m gonna listen to you.”

Jiwoo rolled her eyes and turned to her kitchen, probably to take a pan and hit him upside the head with it or to save herself from seeing the pathetic image of her brother being a fool for love.

He knew not to hope, he repeated those words to himself but at the same time, he could sense the small, miniscule bead of it hidden within his heart, pushed down to the bottom of the barrel and awaiting its eventual death once he set his eyes on the negative results on his test.

In all of the times he got scared, Jung Hoseok has never been so terrified at the thought of being left out of your nexus. It would be the highest form of torture, a cruelest fate the heavens have dealt.

How would he function seeing all his brothers do all the things he had imagined himself doing? Due to how sensitive the bond is, he wouldn’t be able to get a feel of your touch for a year, maybe two if the gods deemed it funnier.

What is he going to do then? Die from envy?

He wouldn’t be able to survive, it would ruin him completely. That parasitic feeling would eat him up from the inside and eventually spill out of him, it would damage the relationship he and his brothers had established through hardships and time. Something he too treasured as he does you.

A chime rang out and his eyes immediately fell to his phone on the coffee table. From the familiar set of emojis on the name of the messenger, he reached over to answer to his Yoongi hyung.

[18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i know what you’re doing [18:23] Me: i don’t know what i’m even doing right now hyung [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: you may fool the others but im not like them [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: jiwoo had already asked me last week about this problem ur supposed to be fixing so dont even try to lie to me [18:23] Me: im just worried [18:23] Me: you know about my family history right? We never had a single tethered so idk what even possessed me to take that test with jin hyung when we already know the answer [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i think you’ll be surprised [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: not that i’m spoiling or anything, im just saying that if jesus could turn water into rum, then you can be the first tethered in your family [18:23] Me: well im not a son of god am i? [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: don’t get sassy with me [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: im just saying, miracles can happen [18:23] Me: i think i already lucked out with our jobs hyung [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i doubt that [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: come home tomorrow [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: the maknaes are planning a party for you [18:23] Me: LOLOLOL WHAT [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: they even bought two different cakes [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: wont spoil what they say [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: come home if you want know [18:23] Me: i will

Despite telling his hyung that he’ll return, he wasn’t sure if he’s going through that decision just yet.

“Did you at least bring a change of clothes with you?” Jiwoo chimes, reappearing from the kitchen archway.

“What if I don’t have any?”

“Then you’re sleeping in those.”

Despite her words, she eventually pulls out a pair of pajamas from her boyfriend’s temporary side of the closet for him to borrow. Sleeping that night was far from being an easy task when he could read and see from the images the maknaes are spamming the group chat, photos ranging from decent captures of moments to a blurry mess where the one holding the phone is running away from a figure that distinctly look like Jimin.

He tried to ignore the nagging feeling at the back of his head and the way his stomach seems to shrunk and eat itself up with every picture and video he sees. He truly does try to ignore the voice judging him for daring to squeeze himself in an already perfect dynamic.

Eventually though, the voices quieten and he falls asleep.

______

Jimin is falling in love with his soulmate.

It shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone but he's actually falling in love with his soulmate. Tingling butterflies in his stomach, skipping heartbeat, tickling warmth in the chest, the whole mile.

What started off as playful admiration where he’d tease you and lightly tug or pull your hair up while you were putting setting powder on his under eye, quickly developed into a giggly high school romance kind of love where he’d avoid your eyes just so his stomach would stop feeling weird and feel the heat of your touch linger from where you last held him.

Now that he’s thinking about it, the whole thing sounds silly because of course he’s going to fall in love with his soulmate.

The morning started as most mornings have begun for him since Jungkook’s birthday, with your face, bare and naked of any products, and the warmth of your body seeping through the fabric of his clothes. More often than not, he’d find himself coming to consciousness feeling your body weight pressing on his arms or your breath ghosting against his throat and he'd just freeze.

Every time it happens, electric shocks would run down his skin and he’d be taking a quick trip to the bathroom to calm his racing heart.

It was insane how often he had to lean over the ceramic sink so early in the morning, breathing heavily to try and ground himself before he reenters the room and sneaks back into his bed, but strictly keeping himself on his side of the pillow fort while careful to take your hand in his once again without waking you up.

But today, he found himself wishing for time to stop just so he could stare at your face at this very moment.

With the light sheen of the light filtered through the curtains bouncing on one side of your skin giving you an ethereal appearance, he found himself at a loss for words at the beauty presented before him. His eyes traced the lines of the long lashes kissing the apple of your cheeks, the slope of your nose, and down to the plush of your lips.

Jimin has lost count on how many times he has wondered about how it’d felt pressing against his.

In the peaceful silence of the early mornings, all he did was stare and wait for time to pass while wishing internally for the world to slow just so he could soak in the peace the morning brought.

Eventually though, he had to steer his attention elsewhere. Jimin rolls to the other end to reach for his phone on the bedside table.

He’s been scrolling on his phone for a couple of minutes, lurking in the fandom space—both international and local—when the door creaks open and Taehyung steps in with sleep-lidden eyes and body heavy with lethargy. Forgoing to close the door of their room, he trudged towards the bed like an overworked employee before promptly falling face first to the spot between you and him. He churned in the small space, making himself comfortable by throwing an arm around your blanket-covered form.

For a long while, the only sound in the room came from the occasional videos he plays.

It was weird. Having a soulmate who has multiple soulmates is weird.

He should be feeling disturbed seeing someone cuddle up to his soulmate but he wasn’t. Jimin, contrary to popular belief, is possessive, probably more than Jungkook was in his younger age. Although it wasn’t to the point of killing like people like to showcase in films these days, possessiveness for him is as tame as snaking arms around waists and narrowed eyes.

Maybe there’s a bit of pulling them aside for a quick reminder in the middle of an event but the point is, he’s possessive.

But he couldn’t find a single cell in his body who was bothered by the presence of someone else in the room.

This soulmate thing is weird.

When he laughed at a post, Taehyung dragged himself up to shoulder level just to see what he was laughing at before giggling himself. Suddenly, you push yourself up and turn to them with squinted eyes.

“Good morning, noona.”

“Tae? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Seokjin hyung sent me up here to wake you both up—”

“It’s still too early!” she groaned, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m not built for working this early!”

“— he said if you don’t go down before seven, he’ll eat the can of smelly fish you bought for him in Sweden as a joke.”

You paused, the threat successfully shutting you up before you let out an exaggerated groan and dramatically burying yourself back into the pillow.

“Can’t a girl rest? I have a bad headache, and I don’t even know if the beating is Namjoon’s or mine.”

It’s easy to forget how there’s six different soulmarks affecting her all at the same time. From how she’d hear their leader’s heartbeat no matter how far, to the altered taste due to his Seokjin hyung’s mark, and to his Healing Touch. He couldn’t even fathom how much of a nightmare it is sensing everyone.

They eventually dragged themselves down to the dining room after a quick bathroom break. Jin had immediately greeted them with heaps upon heaps of pancakes with maple syrup drooling over the side and scrambled eggs on the table.

Yoongi and Namjoon were already nursing their cups of coffee on the table—with Joon hyung taking his rightful spot on one end of the table as the leader, Seokjin hyung taking the seat on the opposite side, and Yoongi next to their leader—Seokjin was occupied with his food when they arrived, one scrolling on his phone while the other crazily scribbled on his journal.

“You didn’t even try to at least cook me waffles, hyung. I’m hurt!” He exclaimed and the man rolled his eyes.

“In another life, if you were my soulmate, maybe I would’ve considered it.” Jin then flashed a smile at you before skipping back to the kitchen.

Jimin couldn’t help but notice how you shifted uncomfortably on your seat at the noticeably more generous portion on your plate and he switched his plate with yours, immediately shoving one into his mouth before his hyung returned. An action noticed by everyone in the room.

“Jimin,” Yoongi called out, voice gentle as a whisper. “Give me one.”

He followed, standing up to bring his plate closer to his hyung and passing it over, adding the eggs into the equation when Yoongi motioned him to add it. Seokjin returns when Jungkook has trudged out of his room and taking the empty space next to Taehyung.

Jungkook immediately noticed the generous amounts on his plate and immediately reached out for two pancakes with his fingers and plopping it down on his plate before taking three more from the middle dish and practically drowning his towers in maple syrup. As if it wasn’t enough, he reached for the softened butter.

When Jin returned, it was with another dishful of bacon and slices of apple. If he noticed the change of plates, he said nothing.

For a long while, they all occupied themselves with their food. A companionable silence

“What’s the agenda for today?” Jungkook was the first to break the silence.

“Yoongi hyung is coming with us to buy furniture for noona.” Jimin replied.

Taehyung then stops slicing his pancake and jutted out his lips towards Yoongi’s direction.

“Can I come with you?”

“I need your voice for the new song I’ve been working on.” Namjoon replied, looking up from his journal with a stern stare directed at the pouting boy. “You’ve been gone for so long, I have a couple for you to work on.”

“I can do that tomorrow, hyung. Let me go just for today? Hm?”

“I can go right? Since you need Tae’s voice instead of mine.” Jungkook sleepily chimed in, eyes still half closed and a hand raised halfway.

“You’ll do the carrying?” Yoongi challenges.

“I’ll even do the talking.”

Jungkook held his gaze with a small, playful grin, waking his face up which Yoongi matched after a couple seconds passed.

“Alright, you’re going with us, kid.”

“I have a touch-based soulmark, I need to come too!” Taehyung argued..

“It's not as drastic as Jimin’s. Even then, you’ve recharged enough.” Seokjin responds, pointing his fork at him.

But before Tae could reply, a shrill notification sound pierced through the air and Y/N pulled her phone out of the pockets of her sleep shorts. Eomma <3

Shit.

Seeing how fast the entertained lilt in her expression drops into dread, the table falls into a hush. As if sensing the approaching tsunami of words from her mother, Yoongi takes his mug and walks out of the room with Seokjin following close behind.

_____

“What did I hear about you getting a soulmate? You ungrateful child, I carried you for nine months and raised you with my blood, sweat, and tears yet this is how you treat me?!”

That was how your mother had begun the moment you had accepted her call. Her voice, despite being carried through such a small device, had blasted out, her uncontainable rage far too grand to be limited by the phone’s initial features. How a small woman could hold such an explosive anger and powerful voice is a wonder no one in the world has the answer for.

Hearing her voice through the speakers had Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon fleeing the scene, but not without karma immediately hitting their leader who had accidentally checked his shoulder on the wall on his way out.

Jungkook followed quickly, dunking his milk in one go and taking his plate with him as he jogged to follow his hyungs, Taehyung behind him.

Jimin had tried to leave but was stopped by both your entangled hands.

“So damn ungrateful you are! Didn't even tell me what was happening, a fucking lawyer knocked on my door and there I find out that my child is tethered. What was my daughter doing to forget to tell HER mother she had soulmates? Why did I have to hear it from someone I don't know?!”

“Did you really think you could leave me alone here?” I whisper-shout at him.

“Noona, let me go. I know we can go for five minutes now.”

“You’re really gonna risk our health for that?”

“At least don’t turn the camera at me, let me hide under the table.”

“Is that my new son-in-law Jimin?” Your mother had chimed, her tone taking a sudden turn. I turned the camera to him despite the insistent shake of head and wide eyes. “When you said you were also trying to find a husband for my daughter, I didn’t think you’d mean you and your brothers!”

“I know right?! Who knew I’d be one of the husbands I’ve been talking about, right auntie?”

“Already talking about marriage, huh? Y/N!” You turn the camera to you and find her smiling so wide you feel your cheeks ache for her. “Your soulmates got good heads on them, already thinking about marriage this early on!”

You shake your head.

While marriage had once been an issue you lost sleep on, you knew it was impossible to attain as idols. They still got stadiums to perform in, songs to compose and perform for the ARMY. Bangtan would continue on for years as long as they sing and dance or as long as their passion remains alive and roaring. They had worked hard to get where they are now, with the taste of glory and power that comes with their rise in fame, retirement is a far away dream when they’re just getting started.

Not to mention, your brain still struggles to accept your new reality despite the very apparent a red string connecting you and Yoongi over the table, and hearing Namjoon's heartbeat at the back of your mind. Hoseok hasn’t even checked his test result yet but your mother is already looking decades ahead.

“Ma please, you know that’s after they retire which is thirty years from now.”

“Jimin,” she calls out, lip jutted out in a pout and he leans over to get into the frame. “Are you guys going to make this old woman wait to see her daughter be a bride? I’m not gonna last long you know? My bones hurt every morning and my appetite is beginning to weaken.”

Jimin laughed nervously, eyes wide as he turned to you for help but you're not going to jump in when his face has calmed the raging beast.

“Don't think for one second that I'm done with you, you ungrateful brat! You haven't even told me why you broke it off with Guwon when he was about to propose!”

“D-does it really matter now?” You winced when Jimin narrowed his eyes at you. Suddenly remembering what was drowned out by the sudden revelation of your soulmate links.

“It doesn't, global popstars sound much better than a lawyer anyway but would it hurt you to tell me what happened exactly? Don't you think your mother deserved an explanation at least after I toiled away trying to find you a husband?!”

“Don't you worry about it anymore, auntie,” Jimin says, voice like a gentle caress trying to tame her fierce anger. “Noona now has seven to care for her now, we'll get to that bridge when it comes but for now, how about we treat you girls to a nice spa out in Jeju?”

“Oh? I wouldn't want to impose on your bonding period, but I'd like to take that offer later. How so nice of you, Jiminie.”

“It’s not the best of gifts but I assure you that there’s plenty to come. Expect a couple of fruit baskets from Yoongi hyung and other stuff too from the others.

“You seven better take care of my daughter, it would be a shame if you all mucked it all up and I have to resent you all.” Your mother sighed, feigning sadness. “Anyways, expect a visit from Soo-in soon dear daughter. She will deliver my heartfelt joy in my stead, your father still needs my help around the house, damn pride of his, he shouldn’t have mindlessly tried to fix the roof himself.”

A shiver wracks down your spine at the thought of your mother’s gift after ghosting her and Soo-in for almost a week now.

The last time your sister had visited, it was after Jungkook had ‘ran-into-the-sunset’ with you on his shoulder and him covered from head to toe in black. The vile wrench had switched your sugar and salt, hid the lids of your tupperwares, hid lego in your shoes before eventually ending her wickedness by hiding the wires of your charger and the wifi router’s adapter.

If your mother only threatened to hang you upside down, Soo-in made sure everything in life became irritatingly inconvenient.

“She won’t be pinching my ears?”

“She’s classier than that, I raised her first so expect more. I love you, dear daughter! Visit us soon with your seven soulmates!”

__________

[Today, 12:42] [12:42] The BADDEST💅: so let me get one thing straight and two things gay [12:42] The BADDEST💅: ur linked with bangtan? [12:42] The BADDEST💅: THE ENTIRE ROSTER????? [12:43] The Mother😌: congratulations Y/N, I’m so glad you finally found your soulmates😊 [12:43] The Mother😌: always knew you’d be tethered [12:43] The PRETTIEST🌸: so who’s the biggest?👀 [12:43] The BADDEST💅: girl I don’t even think you got the libido for two [12:43] The BADDEST💅: how tf are you gonna handle seven?!?!?! [12:43] The BADDEST💅: she was in the hospital u fiend @The Prettiest [12:43] The BADDEST💅: she needs to be worrying about a different type of d to receive [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: SHUT IT MINHYUK [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: hoseok isn’t confirmed yet so its just six for now [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: bet you wish he’s your soulmate too [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: cuz the way that man thrusts his hips in baepsae? [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: 🥵 [12:44] The Mother😌: have some faith in her, she’ll manage [12:44] The Mother😌: gift giving for your birthday just got a whole lot easier though😊 [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: wdym by that @The Mother😟 [12:45] The BADDEST💅: NO BUT SRSLY [12:45] The BADDEST💅: HOW TF ARE YOU GONNA MANAGE SEVEN [12:45] The BADDEST💅: ONE DICK PER DAY??? SEVEN DAYS A WEEK??/ [12:45] The BADDEST💅: lowkey wish that for me BUT [12:45] The BADDEST💅: HOW?????? [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: MINHYUK PLEASE [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: JIMIN IS LITERALLY NEXT TO ME [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: NABI CONTROL YOURSELF [12:46] The PRETTIEST🌸: don’t scold me when ik ur thinking about it too [12:46] The Mother😌: when’s the soulbinding? [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: Jihae please, its only been a few days [12:46] The Mother😌: back in my days, people bound themselves and completed the bond on the first day… [12:47] The PRETTIEST🌸: minhyuk i think you're forgetting the best part out of this [12:47] The BADDEST💅: wut? [12:47] The PRETTIEST🌸: imagine Alexa’s reaction when she finds out our dearest Y/N is Seokjin’s real soulmate [12:47] The BADDEST💅: OH [12:48] The BADDEST💅: she better HOPE she’s not in bighit anymore the moment the NDA expires [12:48] The BADDEST💅: im going to be the most annoying fucker she’ll ever meet [Today, 13:02] [13:02] The BADDEST💅: no but srsly how? [13:02] The PRETTIEST🌸: R I P that pussy ayee

________

There’s nothing more infuriating than picking furniture with your soulmates, you decided.

Yoongi wanting everything to be practical and of the greatest quality matched with Jungkook’s penchant for only liking soft things, it was hell to be stuck in a furniture warehouse with the both of them. Jimin had never looked so godly when he insisted on letting you pick the brownish-red persian rug to be placed under the wide round canopy bed you had eventually settled with after a long debate with the rapper and the youngest.

What started as Jimin towing you around the shop to place you in front of every furniture before a mischievous grin spread across his lips, and the strength of the bed frames immediately turned sour when you both found your other two companions calmly arguing about the color of the curtains—they both eventually settled with thick white, and beige curtains, to Jungkook’s dismay.

He wanted black-out curtains for when he eventually ends up sleeping in your bed, he claimed.

The current dilemma, however, had you going silent as the prickles of irritation began to itch your skin.

Yoongi wanted to commission a carpenter he knew for a custom desk made for you and is insisting on you to skip shopping for tables and shelves, and take the cheapest one for now but Jungkook thinks it’ll take too long and wanted the boho vanity table set with a huge round mirror with stained glass around the edges. The rapper wanted the place you’d be doing work on, to be built with the practical features while keeping it organized but Jungkook, although he saw his hyung’s vision, refused.

“Imagine waking up with a canopy, great quality bed, amazing decor, then you have to stand up and work on a rackety blue plastic table because you have to wait months for that desk. How does that sound, hyung?”

Jimin not picking sides only added to the pounding headache you’re having.

While you understand both sides of the argument, either of those options didn't make you feel less guilty about having them skip work to spend all this money for your room, even if you knew how barely of a scratch their collective funds will take.

If Taehyung hadn't had the foresight to hide your wallet while you were in the shower with Jimin, the guilt would've been lighter.

You envy Jin who has been prickling your tastebuds with honey glazed fried chicken back in bighit, the lingering taste on your tongue making your stomach uncomfortably churn in hunger.

The disguises could only last for so long before people start noticing how familiar your soulmates’ eyes are, seeing as they’re plastered everywhere in the major cities. For the public to see your hands entangled in the pocket of Jimin’s coat would fuel the press for a year; hell, a century even with how the media moves these days.

As Jungkook’s voice picks up, you reach for the red string and Yoongi halts, looking down at the connecting line before gently grabbing it too.

‘Head hurts’

‘No more’

The rapper lets out an exhale and Jungkook stops.

‘Sorry’

‘Forgive?’

“Ok, so how about we take the set and I commission my guy then we’ll change it out once it's done?”

“Deal.”

Next to you, Jimin sighed in relief. “Thank god that’s settled, I thought I was going crazy listening to them debate on what’s better.”

“I don’t think either of them has ever fought for something they wanted that much.”

You turn to Jimin and a teasing smirk grows on his face.

“They love you like that, noona. Wanted nothing but the best of the best for you.”

In a different context, you would've easily brushed off his comment but having the warmth of his touch thrum from your hand to your toes, the healing touch always at work, your cheeks flushed dark and you lightly slapped his arm.

Ever dramatic, he clutched his bicep and winced.

“Why are you hurting me like this?”

“Please, we have regeneration as our soulmark. You're barely hurt.”

“I'm gonna bruise and the fans are gonna see it then I'm telling them how much you like hurting me!”

________

When Hoseok arrived it was with a chorus of loud bangs!. The man had leapt at least a foot or two from the shock as confetti rained on him.

Once he recovered though, he rained curses on the mischievous maknaes—and surprisingly, Yoongi and Namjoon too but they were spared due to one having his hyung privilege and Namjoon having retreated to the kitchen before his hyung had recovered from the shock.

Jin had clapped him in the back when he entered the dining room, fitting the huge and frilly birthday hat on his head and taking a picture of his dumbfounded reaction before the man could even realise what was happening.

Seeing them celebrate such a small thing, an odd feeling settles in your heart. You try not to be a killjoy but you couldn't ignore the mass settling on your gut.

Everything continued on as normal, everyone acted like they had before Jungkook's confession. They find out their links to you and suddenly, the past is behind them. As if you hadn't—although unintentionally—led them on and hadn't rejected three of them. A soul link appears and every fault was forgiven.

It wasn't only you who seemed to be feeling this way though.

Namjoon too it seems, seeing how he had kept his distance. Not in a bad way but rather a respectable, perfectly platonic way. You guessed it'll take long before the information would sink in for the non-believer, he was the one who had treated you more professionally than the others. You'd feel his concerned eyes ever so often but other than that, he'd treat you like a fragile glass.

Never to be touched and never to be perceived too long, fearing the weight of his gaze is enough to make you crumble.

(Or was it just you turning something that was normal before into fuel for your restless mind with the soulmarks now in the picture?)

You knew Namjoon is just having a hard time settling down with the fact that he's in a nexus connection with you but the ugly voice at the back of your head whispered a different tale. All of them are negative and judged far too harshly than you normally do yourself.

Jungkook bets his hyung will break after the third week, Tae says a month, and Jimin slyly says next week. You think it'll take Namjoon at least half a year before he properly processes him being tethered to someone, a non-believer.

The thumb that began to caress your knuckles snapped you out of your thoughts and you immediately found Jimin’s concerned eyes.

“You okay?”

You nod but he knew you better. Luckily, he lets it go.

“Open it, open it!” Jungkook chants, bringing everyone to gather around them.

Hoseok nervously laughed, placing down his car keys, phone, and wallet on the table before flipping the envelope’s flap.

Unconsciously, you leaned forward as he carefully tears the paper, the sound seeming to echo loudly in the silence of everyone’s nervous anticipation. As his brothers had gone from standing at a respectful distance to noisily looking over the main dancer’s shoulder, Jimin had tugged you closer to join them, standing in front and peering over as Hoseok flips open the first fold.

Then out of nowhere, Yoongi had a burst of energy and screamed.

Everyone jumped at his sudden burst of energy making Hoseok’s hand shoot up to his heart and the three maknaes snapped their head to their hyung. The man in question laughed noiselessly, satisfied with the reaction he garnered.

“Hyung, why did you do that?! I just got out of the hospital and you want to send me back again!”

“You’re practically invincible, what are you talking about?” Yoongi shot back.

“Just open it, all I’m seeing is your information hyung and that’s boring!” Taehyung cuts in. “I already know what your blood type is, your last name—”

“You go open it then—”

His words died on his tongue when Taehyung snatched the paper up from the envelope and pulled it open. But before he could start reading the result, Hoseok took it back.

Waiting as he read through his results felt like watching the presidential race on the tv, heartbeat rising every time the opposing candidate gained more than the man you elected. You worried your bottom lip with your teeth. His eyebrows furrowed, his frown deepening as his eyes wandered lower and you began to panic.

Why are you even nervous?

Aren't you being too greedy for wanting to have Hobi too?

Hoseok then crumbled into the floor, curling up to himself as he clutched the paper to his chest. Instantly, everyone panics as his heart shattering sobs echoed in the living room.

Suddenly, the colorful decorations hanging on the wall and the balloons scattered on the floor made

“Hoba? What’s wrong?”

“Hyung come on, don’t make me nervous like this!”

“What did it say?”

Jimin falls next to him, your hand momentarily forgotten to comfort his hyung and Jungkook follows, hugging the sobbing man while Seokjin reaches for the crumpled paper peeking out of Hoseok’s curled up form, a grim expression on his face.

“I am writing to inform you of the results of your recent soulmark evaluation and tethered status assessment. After a thorough examination and review of your diagnostic tests, it has been confirmed that you are,” Seokjin takes a deep breath then releases it shakily, a wide smile spreading across his lips. “Indeed tethered.”

You let go of the breath you had unconsciously held in as everyone in the room began to celebrate. Jimin pulled Hoseok to stand, laughing as the man continued to weep before reaching up to fix the birthday cap Seokjin had slipped onto his head. Jungkook, unable to stop himself from ridiculing his hyungs whenever he could, pulled out his phone to record them.

“How do you feel knowing you’re the first ever tethered in your family?”

Taehyung follows by placing his phone under Hoseok’s chin like a mic.

“You must be so happy being the first Jung to have a soulmate since the dawn of time, sir. Please tell us what you’re feeling right now.”

“Get that fucking… camera off my face or I’ll break it.”

Hearing this, Namjoon turns to the maknaes. “Stop teasing him, Seokjin hyung isn’t even done reading it.”

Despite this, Jungkook didn’t stop recording but Taehyung had skipped over to look over Seokjin’s shoulder.

“I think you’ll want to read this one yourself, Hoba.” The oldest says, handing the paper over to the sniffling man.

With his result back in his hand, Hoseok straightened himself, clearing his throat as Jimin gently wipes his tears off of his cheeks.

“This means you have a soulmate, a unique and profound connection that is both rare and significant. Furthermore, based on the characteristics of your soulmark and the energy patterns observed, there is a high probability that your soulmark is of the altering type.”

“They have the technology to figure out the soulmark type too?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“Unfortunately, the global fated registry haven’t figured out a way to pinpoint what soulmark our patients have. It is with our deepest—”

“Didn’t know that, had mine cancelled when I figured it out before the results came.” Seokjin replied. Beside him, Taehyung pulls up his phone to rapidly type out whatever he had in his mind.

“I wonder what kind of altering mark it is. There’s a lot of documented ones but what if it’s also a new soulmark? A revived one from the 19th century like Jimin’s?”

“That’s unlikely.” Yoongi refutes.

“You don’t know that.”

With the initial elation ebbing away, everyone continued the celebration seated around the dining table where Jimin had parted from you to take out the congratulating cake from the fridge to light up and serve in front of their hyung who had almost toppled over with how hard he laughed seeing it.

Yoongi had insisted they also take out the apologizing cake so it wouldn’t go to waste. Upon hearing this, the group broke out in laughters, unbelieving until Jungkook brings out the ube flavored cake with the sentence “sorry your family nerfed your potential to be a lover boy.” placed on top in red icing.

The excitement never faded away through the night, dinner was lively, as if they had swept the four daesangs on both award shows. But instead of being influenced by the joy you feel down the red line from Yoongi and the practically vibrating maknaes sitting across you who keep cutting through conversations with suggestions on what soulmark their hyung might have, you find yourself standing behind a tall wall.

When everyone cheered and raised their mugs to toast, you only felt yourself mentally retreat further as a mass settled deep in the pit of your gut.

Seeing the men around you with wrists decorated in thick bands of gold that cost more than your yearly wage, faces flawless from careful maintenance, and names carrying the weight of their country’s pride, did you really deserve them?

You, who was a nobody staff they just happen to gravitate to due to the closeness of age, matched with the members of the world’s biggest boyband. They weren’t just out of your league. You’re the human on earth wishing to reach the stars from another, far away galaxy, yet by fate’s generosity, you were given the chance to see the beauty of them from up close.

How does one come from dating sleazy men with oily hair and faces akin to an infant’s drawing to being tethered to superstars everyone in the world would sacrifice a life for a chance to talk to them?

When everyone had begun to retire for the night, Jimin had silently guided you back to his room. The sensation of him pressing a kiss on your forehead cuts off your thoughts, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug grounding you further.

“Are you with me now, noona?”

“Of course, I always am.” You answered with a scoff, pulling away and he frowned.

“I could sense your feelings the entire dinner, don’t try to lie to me.”

Even in the shades of his room bare of any bright lighting, you feel Jimin stare past your physical body and peer into your soul. In the harsh darkness with only you and him standing in it, you felt exposed, stripped to the barest bone under his gaze.

Never have you ever hated having a soulmate than you do now with someone perceiving your feelings openly, sensing the slightest shift in your mood with a brush of skin. It's annoying, scary yet at the same time relieving that there’s someone who could hear the tune of the noise in your brain.

Not many people have the same luck you have, seven soulmates with one of them granting you what technically is immortality, who else wins at life like that?

But do you really deserve it? Deserve them?

“Stop that. You deserve this, deserve all of us. If someone thinks otherwise, tell me their name and I’ll go beat them up.”

You laugh. “You can’t do that, that’ll stain your image.”

“I don’t think you understand just how important you are to me, noona.” He says, pulling you closer to him. “Before you think about it, I’ll beat someone up for you with or without the soulmarks.”

The image of someone with the face of an angel and a sweet demeanor like Jimin jumping someone in the parking lot to fight for your honor shouldn’t have made you cackle the way you did. The warm rumbles from your linked hands spread across your body and the thoughts were immediately silenced.

“I know you wouldn’t like it but I’ll be telling the other guys about this. I don’t like how you think you’re undeserving of all this when you do, in fact, deserve this bond after sticking with us through thick and thin. You saw all of our flaws and helped us in our bad days, you may think you haven’t done much to warrant this kind of luck but you do.”

Jimin pressed his lips on your forehead and your heart skipped a beat.

“Namjoon hyung might have a problem expressing it, Yoongi hyung might not show it openly like Jungkook and Taehyung does, but they share the same sentiment. It’ll take them time to be more expressive so I hope you find it in yourself to be patient. We’re still in the adjusting phase so if anything bothers you, don’t hesitate to tell us.”

Tears were streaming down your face at this point, eyes burning as they poured out like a waterfall. The softness in his voice has eased its way into your heart and dispelled the gloominess surrounding it, replacing it with a crashing wave of relief followed by the warmth provided by the soulmark.

You didn’t realise how much your thoughts had been wearing you down until tonight. Comforted by his words and the tightness of his hug, the dam finally breaks and you falter in his hold.

“Shh, cry it all out, noona.”

“I-I shouldn’t be crying over something so stupid like this.”

He shakes his head. “It's not stupid. Don’t say that.”

There’s a tug on your pinkie and you feel the string grow heavier. Immediately, Yoongi’s concern bleeds into you.

‘Why crying?’

‘What happened?’

“Let’s go lay down, noona. I’m feeling the ache in my muscles bending down like this.” He says lightheartedly, giggling. “Don’t worry about answering the others, I’ll handle it later.”

Guiding you to the bed, Jimin tugs you to fall into his arms and you let yourself be pulled into his chest.

Between the sound of Jimin and Namjoon’s heartbeats, and his fingers tracing slow circles on your back while the other hand massaged your scalp, it was easy to be lulled into sleep. In the echoing sound of your sniffles and hiccups, his sweet humming permeates through the air. His song was familiar yet your sleep addled mind took a second to realise what it was.

Serendipity, your mind eventually supplied.

For a moment, in the solace his arms offered, the world became quiet and you fell asleep, forgetting to worry about what chaos yesterday will bring.

_________

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud @bri602 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @marvel-potter-1d-korea @comingupwithacoolnameishard @sooha-neul @juju-227592 @coffeewanderer @x-uno @diamonddia-mond @eggsysstuff @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @sld88 @katsukis1wife

#bts x reader #bts x reader poly #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

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cambankromyy · 2 days ago

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THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.8): stop being weird - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

an; lmfao i watched babygirl last night so smut coming in the next few chapters FINALLY!!

part 7- part 8 - part 9

you don’t do weird, dramatic silences. you don’t ignore each other. you don’t fight.

so why does it kind of feel like you are?

it’s been days since the last pogue hangout. since you started seeing rafe a little less. since you realized he wasn’t really… talking to you anymore. not like normal. not like you two.

it’s not like he’s outright avoiding you—he still shows up, still answers when you text—but he’s dry. dismissive. like he doesn’t really care. and maybe you wouldn’t care either, if it weren’t so obvious.

you roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling, your phone resting on your stomach. music plays softly from your speaker, some song you don’t even realize is on until it ends. the room feels too quiet. the kind of quiet that makes your thoughts louder than they need to be.

before you can think too hard about it, you grab your phone and open your messages.

it’s not like you to overthink things. not with rafe. but the whole thing is just… off. and it’s not like he’s going to tell you what’s up—clearly—so you do the next best thing.

meanwhile, your life is moving. no time to think about rafe. no time to care.

you’re at the chateau, cross-faded, curled up against jj on the couch, barely processing the conversation happening around you. his arm is slung around your waist, and at some point, your head ends up on his shoulder. the night moves fast like that, all smoke and static and warmth, the air thick with laughter and the low hum of music from a speaker someone set on the counter.

jj’s rolling another joint, half-focused on pope and john b arguing over something stupid, while kiara eggs them on. you don’t even know what they’re mad about, but it’s funny watching them get worked up, hands flying, voices overlapping.

jj nudges you with his shoulder, eyes lazy, smirking. “you good over there, champ?”

you hum in response, tilting your head back to look at him. “never better.”

he grins, flicking the lighter to life.

at some point, jj drags you off the couch, pulling you toward the kitchen under the excuse of “we need snacks.” the real reason, as it turns out, is to shotgun a beer with you, which you only half succeed at before nearly choking on it. jj laughs so hard he almost chokes too, smacking the counter as he wheezes, before shoving the neck of his hoodie at you to wipe your mouth like you haven’t known each other for two weeks at most.

“you suck at this,” he says, grinning.

“fuck you,” you cough, still recovering.

“nah, that was tragic,” he teases, cracking open another one like you didn’t just borderline aspirate the first. “you gotta commit. you hesitated.”

you glare at him, wiping your chin with his hoodie before flipping it back at his face. “let’s see you do better, mr. professional.”

jj winks, tilting his head back as he downs the beer effortlessly, then slamming the empty can on the counter with an exaggerated gasp. “light work,” he announces.

you roll your eyes. “congrats. you’ve peaked.”

he throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into a loose side hug as he grabs a bag of chips off the counter. “c’mon, princess. let’s go pretend we got the snacks and not just our crippling alcohol dependencies.”

sometime past 2 a.m., you end up back on the couch, jj next to you, kiara half in your lap, legs thrown over the armrest. your limbs feel heavy, head fogged over with exhaustion, but you feel good. easy. warm in the way that only comes with nights like this.

you don’t check your phone. don’t think about unread messages or stubborn boys who’d rather sit in their heads than get out of them.

not your problem tonight.

tags: @italk2god @angelicameron @marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43 @idiotussupremus @sereneera @yesshewrites1 @inlovewithchriss @ethanthequeefqueen @amterasuu @popou61 @drewsstars @yannew @anothertimegirl @flvredcas @yootvi @mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial @cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa @6r4cie @adalia-lovelace @bee-43 @drewrry @masongetinmybed @defnotayonna @lcversvoid @my-name-is-baby @lolasangelz @polli05927 @laniirackssss @rafecameronswifeyy @hello-therree

#the island lookout :cambankromyy #rafe cameron #rafe #rafe smau #rafe cameron smau #obx #outerbanks #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #obx smau #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fluff #thornton!reader #topper thornton #bsf!rafe cameron #childhood bsf!rafe #sarah cameron

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nudijsmos · 3 days ago

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stalker's tango.

pairing: stalker!bangchan x female!reader.

what would you do if you had a man spying on your most "intimate" moment? surely everything except letting him corrupt your body like a rag doll. or not, no one judges you.

warnings: explicit content, mentions of cnc and mask kink, knife kink, female masturbation, blowjob (male recieving), riding a knife like it’s the end of the world, sadistic bangchan, mention of blood while orgasm, reader it’s a whore for everything he does, petnames, degradation kink.

a/n: i swear i'm not so normal about him. 🙏🏼

your saturdays were certainly the most boring days of your week: no parties, no hanging out with friends, no alcohol and especially no one to spend the rest of the night with.

it was certainly a very niche wish of yours but there were times when you locked yourself into books to feel something new, even if it was fictional. the pleasure that these erotic books generated for you was too ecstatic for anyone else who will not be able to understand the reason for the great fascination with them.

especially if you use it as a method of self pleasure, mostly to reward you after a rough week.

your fingers lay between the folds of your cunt, opening their way with parsimony in a tortuous swing that left plain sight how weak you manage to put yourself to all kinds of touch, your chest uncovered just so that one of your nipples will remain on the paradise of lust that was building in your body. the wet feeling of your throbbing lips against each touch was music to your ears, coming to rub you more and more on them as if it were a sex toy; you wanted to remove all frustration in them for the most pathetic of what was seen.

the viscous sensation of your fluids invading, staining every end of your digits could get you drunk if it was scientifically possible, gently squeezing the apex of your clitoris only for the purpose of turning yourself into a bunch of moans. it's too inappropriate for an explicit scene to have put yourself like that.

your lips parting to let out another sultry moan that echoes the room, it’s actually a relieve that you have the house completely alone ‘cause if you were with your parents in the other room those slutty groans and gaps would get you grounded as fuck. even though what you are doing it’s risky, you still want to keep that tortuous pace on your vulva.

it’s difficult when you suddenly gasp louder, your fingers picking up speed. your pumping is getting sloppy and you constantly shift on the mattress like a greedy puppy, hungry for more.

your knees buckled at the near feeling of your orgasm reaching, pleading to be released when suddenly a noise distracts you.

on the side of your window, the shadow of what appears to be a person begins to become visible, a robust figure that slowly becomes more present: those eyes observed the apex of your thighs with desire, a heavy breath that fogged the glass. the only problem was that you couldn't see his entire face.

fear invaded you, a strange combination along with your denied orgasm made you beg with your eyes for two things. your liberation or that he wouldn't kill you.

tears falling from your eyes, thinking that this must be just a bad nightmare and that's it.

while on the side of the dark stranger, saying that he was enchanted from the moment he slipped through the balcony window was an understatement... almost nothing.

under curses around his plump lips he holds back the urge to pull out his erect member from his denim pants. It wasn't the first time he followed your steps, but it was the first time he saw you in such a deplorable and exciting state.

his hands gently forced the lock of the window, slowly opening it and as he went up your groaning heard sharper, making his sanity gradually disappear. the sound that comes out of your mouth was like an invitation for him to take advantage of it, as if you were doing a show just for him to see. or at least he wanted to believe that.

with the agility of a cat, broke into your room without any warning and searched his way through your body like a desperate man. the hands of that mysterious elder were placed in your mouth to make it impossible for any complaint to come out of you, bringing you even closer until those dark eyes connected again with yours almost in a plea not to stop.

"mhm.. what we have here?" she says in a flirtatious tone. his voice was deep and rough, as if his throat dried up when he saw you please her. "a dirty whore who thinks no one can see her being so fucking provocative."

your hum was vibrating against the palm of his hand, and tears were running down your rosy cheeks. you were scared - even terrified, this was too real to be just a dream of yours. his hand was so big. he hugged your face in such a way that it covered your nostrils as well, making it harder to breathe. his face was covered with shadows and a black mask hid his mouth, only one of his darkened eyes visible in the night.

your eyes roamed your room, trying to find something to use as a defense mechanism for escape. the man noticed your attempts immediately, "what are you doing, my dear? nah.. you won’t walk away from this."

his free hand was going down to the top of your underwear without too much haste since he wanted very internally to drain all your energy in what remained of the night. the thin fingers of the masked man seemed to know your body from beginning to end, outlining the folds of your intimacy as if he had memorized them, pressing his thumb against your clitoris causing a gorgeous and sharp moan to come out of your lips.

"how noisy you get to be sometimes, you’re going to blow my head if you keep this way," again the boy’s voice overwhelmed you and promptly you only deigned to nod while his nimble hand was getting rid of your underwear, the lace rubbing your thighs as it slid down your skin almost like a cut. sharp and painful.

the gloved hand of the chestnut bathed in your fluids, going up and down between your folds and listening to that characteristic sound of it. your eyes were still on that handsome man, half-closed for pleasure and your mouth just babbling overflowed prayers to the contrary.

"just look at you. you look so insultingly pathetic." he muttered between his teeth as he moved to the side of the bed, standing on the ground at the perfect height for your watery face to be millimeters - if you could say so of his crotch.

from his trousers he pulled out a red-handle leather knife, the edge of the weapon shone with the light of your room lamp. "what would you do if i used this on you? would it be right to put the edge inside you and watch you kill yourself while riding it alone or should i use the handle as a dildo?"

the edge of the knife would go in? what, that would be too much and no matter how hot you are you wouldn’t let your parents see you dead from an orgasm. "please." you sounded so pitiful, even the elder was pleased to see you in spite of not knowing what to choose. "choose m'lady, the edge or just the handle of the knife."

another breath of pain was heard through the room, without the man realizing you were already a mess; dripping your thighs and nipples slightly erect with only the sight of him waiting for some answer from you. your eyes were turned to his crotch and back to his right hand, which with agility held the knife, you did not know where to put all your attention.

"the handle, use the handle." god, he could die from just hearing you say that. his left-hand was unbuttoning his pants without lowering them at all, the same with his boxer that marked on his elastic calvin klein on his waist.

the handle of the knife was rubbing against your vulva as if it were a sex toy of those you kept somewhere in your room while suddenly the boy’s dick went inside your mouth, not giving you any choice but to pump your head and try not to choke by how it stretched your mouth cavity looked to him, seeing you as a fleshlight for his cock.

"that is bunny, take my cock just as well. almost seems like you were made for this, being such a cocksleeve for a stranger.. what a desperate thing." the voice of that man was bouncing through the walls of your ears like a forbidden melody, the handle of the knife was penetrating you causing several cries of pain to drown in the chestnut’s phallus. " there you go, take it like a good girl, you’ve grown up so much so i bet you have some kind of experience gettin' sluted out.”

the leather of the knife was moistened inside you, the rubber walls were adjusted to its size as if really your whole body was made so that he can abuse it, hurt it too - of course and hurts as hell compared to the different dildos that you had used on you.. but holy mother who could kick you out of just hearing him curse your own existence by smearing his weaponry with your slick and blood.

you have no idea how men can be saddled with a palate full of sophomoric slapstick. but a dick is a dick, and something tells you that he won’t let you go empty-handed on this one. "you're not tapping out already, are ya’? cause you looked so pretty with your mouth full of my dick.. use your tongue just a bit more and keep the fucking pace or i'll stab your stomach.” he demanded, fuck he sounded so hot saying that.

the masked man’s hand was gradually bathed in blood surrounding the material of his glove, each cut that made the girl’s movements only left him more stunned at the sight of the young woman being raped in pleasure. who would say that the facade of a sweet and well-dressed girl could be destroyed in one night by him. the assaults became much faster and deeper, the splashing of material against the intimacy of the female became more noticeable along with the obscene expressions that were ripping from her rosy face.

under the mask the man could say that he was worse than his companion; drops of sweat falling down his forehead and his meaty lips were wounded from the number of times that their canines killed them with careless bites, tearing the skin of these on purpose to feel the metallic taste of his blood rub his palate. “how does it feel having a complete stranger arranging your guts with a knife? huh?.. what i even ask you if you can even look me in the eye while you're blowing me out.”

“i fuckin' hate you.” you spat, getting his cock out of your weeping mouth. his hand began to move from the base to the tip of his member, masturbating it over your face without stopping the previous movements that were creating a burning feeling in your lower abdomen, your free hand was held from the ends of your sheets being almost impossible this time to shut up, “ you motherfu-.. oh god!!”

your legs weakened and the heat of your lower stomach was increasing more and more, reaching to raise your body from the mattress by the over stimulation that you were subjected to, something that the elder loved, dying inside to see you like this for a while.

“that's it sweet girl, keep struggling, ‘m gonna cum on your pretty face and you're gonna make a mess in my hand.. understood? show me how weak you manage to put yourself into”.

you hated to say he was in fact right but you were close to your limit, you hated with all your soul that the touch of that stranger makes you tremble with pleasure. you hated that especially warmed you to the idea that this would not be the last time he broke into your house. “s-sir.. ‘m close.. bun wants to.. please”, you couldn’t speak - not even say a single word.

that’s how the masked man let out all his seed on your face, smearing your cheeks and corners with his semen just as you burst on the handle of the knife that had made his hand a table full of cuts and drops of blood that combined with your fluids.

this couldn’’t be better, clearly not.. right?.

(...)

"bun.. bun, baby" you heard a familiar voice echoed onto your ears. "baby dol,l you fell asleep again". it was your boyfriend who spoke to you with a worried tone but with some happiness of seeing you again.

"what are you doing here? i..didn’t know you were coming." you mumbled shyly as you climbed into the sheets to check that you were still in your clothes. and so it was, but there was something else lying at the end of your bed: a knife with its blood-stained leather and in the distance the shadow of that man walking away from your window.

it certainly wouldn’t be the first or last time you would see him spying on every move you made in the distance, and that made you more than eager to be used by him again.

and only for him.

#bangchan x reader #bang chan #smut #bangchan smut #cnc k!nk #knife k!nk #alternate universe #skz smut #christopher bang #female reader #masked men #corruption kink #knifeplay #humiliation kink

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jjaehyunnxie · 1 day ago

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possessive!jeno x reader, where jeno reminds reader who owns her after breaking up

a/n: this just fiction btw, nobody should treat you like this!!!

! MDNI, jeno is kinda mean, angry sex, unprotected (no!!)

“yn, open the door.” jeno’s text flashed on your screen. you sigh rolling your eyes, turning the phone screen-side down and resuming whatever you were watching on tv.

your phone buzzes. “jeno”. gosh, this guy can’t take a hint, can he?

“what!” you answer, pissed off at his constant persistence.

“yn. open the door while I’m being nice, okay?” he was breathless, like he’s been running to your place. his fists bang on the door.

you scoff, hanging up and dragging your steps to the door, unlocking it and peaking through. “jen, I already told you we’re ov—“

your words were swallowed up as Jeno pushes the door open, slamming it behind him as he pulls you in a desperate and rough kiss. “don’t fucking play with me. we both know you don’t mean that.” his hands grip at your hips possessively.

“what? I was very clear in what I said!”

“yeah? and you moved on so fast? not even a fucking week passed and I see you giggling and throwing suggestive glances at some random bastard! you need to be taught a proper lesson, don’t you?” his fingers dig into your hips, a sensation that spurs your stomach and makes your knees feel weak.

“It’s none of your business what I do! I already broke up with—“ jeno’s hand rushes to your throat, gripping onto it, thumb pressing hard and almost cutting your air supply.

“of course it’s my business. what’s mine is mine, right? how could I stay still while some fucker rubs his hand on my girl’s thigh like that, huh? that’s something only I get to do to you.”

just as your eyes were starting to tear up, he let’s go, leaving you coughing. he doesn’t let you rest for too long before you find your chest pressed against your tall windows, showing a gorgeous night city view. jeno holds your wrists together behind your back as his finger tugs at the hem of your shorts.

“now, let me remind you what the fuck you’re missing on, sweetheart.“ he says teasingly as his hand slips your shorts off, revealing your damp panties to him. “fucking hell. you fucking whore. got so wet from me choking you, huh?”

“n-no, that’s not…” you try to protest but you’re left choking on your words as his two fingers slip in you, going in deep and quickly finding that sweet spot that only he knew of. you couldn’t hold the desperate moans that startes to escape your lips, your breath fogging up the window as your face is pressed against the cold glass.

“need to show this whole city who the fuck you belong to. maybe that’ll teach you something, huh? take your top off.” he orders. you peak at him over your shoulder, his hair is messed up and his eyes are dark with lust and need. His eyebrow raises at your lack of response and gives your ass a harsh slap. “hello? I said take your top off.”

you oblige, fingers hesitating at the hem of your shirt before you pull it over your head, bare breasts set free with a bounce. “there we go, that’s more like it. now perk your ass up just like this and look out the window while I fuck this pretty pussy.”

the tip of his hard cock teases your entrance as he takes in your warmth before sliding it smoothly down your hole. “fuuuuckk…you’re perfect.” he murmurs under his breath, your slick walls dragging on him blurring his mind.

his thrusts are slow but deep, taking his time to slide out and before pushing roughly in you, hitting that sweet spot and making sure you feel every inch of him. maybe if he engraves that feeling in your mind, you’d know he’s the only one who can really fill you up like this.

he leans down to suck and bite at your back, leaving obvious marks of possession in places others could see.

jeno senses your walls throbbing around him, a signal he knew all too well. his thrusts become ragged, fingers digging into your hips as his eyes are fixed on the way your ass just sinks down onto his length.

“mm’jeno…” you mumble, your boobs pressed against the cold window, a grave contrast from your growing hot body.

“what is it? tell me, baby. I’m the only one who can give you what you need.”

“mmh, ‘gonna cum Jen.” you whine.

“beg for it.” he orders, but your mind is too foggy to hear his words. his hand lands on your ass again with a harsh slap. “I said fucking beg for it, slut! tell me who you wanna cum on!”

“wanna cum on jeno’s cock! fuck—please, give it to me, I promise I’ll be good…!”

“promise?” his voice is teasing, an obvious smirk could be heard from his tone. “yes..! yes, fuck, I promise!!” you whine, unable to hold your release in any longer.

“fucking cum on my cock, then. come on.” he growls, his hips slamming into you before you finally come undone on him, cunt clenching on his length.

you whine and cry, overwhelmed from your sensitive cunt as he continues to thrust into you. “shh, baby. jus’ a little more okay? wanna claim this fucking pussy.”

he shoots his ropes of hot cum in you, hips stuttering from the overstimulation. He’s quick to catch your body as it falls limp in his hands. “this better’ve taught you who really owns you.”

#nct #nct dream #nct hard thoughts #nct jeno #jeno smut #jeno x reader #drabble

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kroommii · 1 day ago

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If I Say I Love You

characters: Xavier x y/n genre: fluff

It all began last year’s Winter-Fest. It was yet the biggest celebration Xavier had ever seen and of course he would be helping his town to make it successful. The preparation was grueling, stressful with many revisions and re-checks but it was all worth it. Because of the preparation, the town’s income from the Winter-Fest would double last year’s according to the town’s treasurer and that’s great news to Xavier and the townsfolk.

Winter-Fest is a week-long celebration so the townsfolk would take turns in supervising the celebration, especially the town’s snowball field which is an absolute warzone. Tourists and townsfolk alike take part in the exhilarating snowball fight, where nobody is an ally and everyone’s open to fire. On this particular day, Xavier got the short end of the stick and was in charge of keeping the area injury-free.

Amidst the chaos of flying snowballs (and getting hit with some snowball himself), his attention falls onto a particular person. A young woman around his age, with mesmerizing eyes and flawless beauty. Instantly his attention zeroed in on you. It was like his mind was pulled towards you, ridding anything unimportant (everything but you) and filling his brain with you, you, you.

In that moment, he couldn’t feel anything but his beating heart, his fogging breath and your soft voice. Your cheerful face, the bounce on your step as you evade and run away from your friends who were throwing snowballs at you. Your bright laughter as you yourself throw snowballs at them. It was a scene he had seen countless times, but it just felt different when he saw you doing those gestures. It looks like a scene straight out of a fairy tale. A tale in which an angel from heaven (you) went down to earth and graced him with your ethereal presence.

He was so mesmerised that he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings when a ‘thud’ hit his face right on his cheek and it instantly froze him and brought him back from cloud nine.

“Hey bunny boy! Whatcha thinkin about that got you so out of it, huh?” Grandpa Howard’s voice shouted some meter away from him. He was probably the one who threw the snowball towards him.

“Oh Howard, don’t bother the poor boy. He’s already worked enough to be handling your noisy nose!” Grandma Julie, Grandpa Howard’s wife scolds him. “Xavier, darling, don’t pay him any attention. I’m sure you’ve had a hard time with us oldies, why don’t you go have some fun yourself, we’ll watch the crowd for you.”

Grandma Julie is always so kind to the youngsters around her. Xavier smiles, “No need Grandma Julie. I was just a bit distracted. I can go have fun later. Now, why don’t you and Grandpa Howard have fun? I see the others are waiting for you,” Xavier points out to the other seniors who’re looking at them.

“Oh such a sweet boy you are. Good luck on your job and don’t hesitate to tell us when you’re tired of it, don’t want you going down on us now would we, Howard?” Grandma Julie nudges Grandpa Howard.

“Sure, sure. Keep up the good work bunny boy!” He hollered to Xavier.

Watching the couple go back to their friends, Xavier had momentarily forgotten about you, the girl he fell head over heels with. Whipping around his face, his eyes frantically search for your figure. Alas, you have gone away, presumably with your friends, to continue your busy agenda in Winter-Fest. Xavier could only sigh as he already misses you, his eyes dropping and the cheer that was in his face diminished just a tad bit. He guessed he could see you more in the following days of Winter-Fest. It wasn’t a big town and it was just the second day of the celebration, you two would definitely meet again.

----------------------------

Except you didn’t.

Somehow, in the small area of Xavier’s town, he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of you at all. It didn’t make sense to him. In what chance would the world have for you two to not meet again for the rest of the week? Xavier already visited each stand everyday, loitering around the town when he’s not on duty and yet he still didn’t see even a strand of your hair. It was truly a slap from reality for Xavier. He knew you were not from around here (he had some info gathering) and you could leave any day, but when it was the end of the week and he hadn't met you at all, it really felt like a wake up call to him who wished too much (you).

Now, under the spring sky and the spring breeze dancin around his face, he couldn’t help but be gloomy about the circumstances of his love life. His hands unmotivated arranged the season’s flower into a pretty arrangement, but not as pretty as he would usually do. Usually, all the stems would be cut to a precision and the leaves are systematically cut and presented, but now the stems are cut neatly, not as precise and the leaves are more free and wild than what he usually presented. He was on a new low energy no doubt.

“If you’re keeping that up better for you to mess around in the garden rather than the station,” A warm voice and hand took the arrangement from his hands and distanced it from him.

“Ah… Jeremiah, welcome to the shop,” Xavier answered with the most bored voice ever.

“Seriously, what is wrong with you right now?” He nudges Xavier’s forehead with his index finger, causing Xavier to stumble back a bit. “You’ve been off since the Winter-Fest. Any news I’m supposed to hear about?”

Xavier huffs, “No. No news you need to be aware of.”

“Cut the crap. You’re clearly down from something and it’s dragging your performance down too. I need my assistant to be in tip top shape, so speak up, what got your heart all tangled up?” Jeremiah impatiently claps his hand and busy it with another arrangement.

Xavier huffs again and rests his arm on the counter to hold his head. He really doesn't want to share his little heartbreak-crush with his boss. Sure Jeremiah is his friend but he’s his boss right now and it makes him feel very weird about sharing his love life with his boss.

“You know I’ll wait here all day if you don’t spit it out soon. The sooner the better xavi. Also I’m sure you’re just itching to arrange another bouquet, don’t think I don’t see your hand playing with the scissor.” Jeremiah chipped in while focusing on his own arrangement.

“Fineeeee. I’ll tell you about my little thing, but just so you know it’s really weird to be talking about it with your boss.”

“Nothing’s weird. I’m your friend first and foremost. Being your boss is just a bonus so I can tell you to do things I don’t want to,” He smiles.

Xavier could only groan to the confession of his friend-boss. Still, he couldn’t hide the smile blooming on his face. His fondness for his friend-boss Jeremiah. A friend who had been there since they were little boys and a caring boss who teaches him everything he needs to know.

“If you’re really that curious, I just saw this pretty girl last Winter-Fest and couldn’t even introduce myself to her.”

And with that, the snipping that was rhythmic from Jeremiah stops. A couple of seconds later he chipped in, “So… you met a pretty girl and didn’t introduce yourself?” He said confused.

“No, no, no, it’s worse,” Xavier now fully hides his head behind his arms. “I just saw her. Didn’t even interact with her at all!”

While Xavier is lamenting his poor love life, Jeremiah was stifling a laughter behind the big flowers he’s arranging.

“Are you seriously laughing right now? I am heartbroken here. I couldn’t speak to the love of my life! It’s tragic Jeremiah! Not comedic!”

Jeremiah laughs more louder. “It’s just- it’s just so stupid!” He turned his head down, having trouble with containing his laughter. “You just saw her and didn’t say anything?”

“It’s not that I didn’t say anything. I saw her while I was on duty and before I could talk to her I was handling something and the next thing I know I couldn’t find her at all over Winter-Fest!” Xavier is now more animated than before, feeling strangely offended at Jeremiah laughing at his predicament.

“Oh, my man. You are a comedic genius, truly.” Jeremiah patted Xavier’s shoulder after calming himself down which was returned with a glare.

“Sure you weren’t able to talk to her then and couldn’t find her for the rest of the week, but you are really falling hard for this mysterious pretty girl aren’t you.”

“She is the love of my life, you don’t understand. She’s not from here and the only reason she was here was because her friend who was interested in Winter-Fest. She’s from the big city and there’s just no guarantee I would ever see her again in my entire life! It was a one in a million chance and I let it go.” he sulked.

Jeremiah groaned, “You can’t be serious Xav. You met her, what? One time and suddenly you’re soulmates? Honestly I thought you were more logical than romantic.”

“But she is my soulmate! I’m telling you, I have to find her again or I will never be able to live with myself ever again!”

“Then find her.”

The sudden statement snapped Xavier up from his rant. He looked at Jeremiah with big eyes and a confused look. “I will go to the city to find her?”

“No you dumbass,” Jeremiah sighed, hands itching to pinch the boy’s cheek. “She was here for the Winter-Fest right? Then wait until it’s Winter-Fest again and then try to find her.”

“But what if she’s not coming!? Again, she’s not from here and the only reason she was here was because of her friend.”

“Then hope she comes again.” Jeremiah concluded, before looking at Xavier. “Look Xavi, I’m really glad you finally have a crush, but it can’t derail you from your life. How about this, next Winter-Fest you won’t be a staff member? You’ll be a normal person enjoying the Winter-Fest just like her. That way, you can try to find her for a full week without any interruption, that good?”

Xavier stares at Jeremiah with hopeful eyes, “You promise that? But what about the labour? I know you can’t handle them all, even with the elders' help.”

Then, Jeremiah flashed a smirk, “That’s what the kids are for. I’ve been waiting for a chance to work them out. They’re too energetic for their own good. I mean, they were destroying all of my flowers all year round! Don’t think they can get away scot free from me.”

With that, Xavier relaxed his stance, his mind no longer running a thousand miles per hour. He can finally think clearly with the crashness of Jeremiah and he finally doesn’t feel like he’s running out of time to find you. “Thank you Jeremiah, you’re a real good friend.”

“That I am,” Jeremiah nodded. “But now, we have a shop to run, orders to process, and flowers to trim, so get your game in loverboy before I take back my words.”

----------------------------

Days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months. Within a blink of an eye, it’s once again Winter-Fest and the town is flocked with visitors from the pasts and new ones.

All the time away from you had given Xavier all kinds of ideas in his mind on how to approach you when you meet again. From flower arranging to making a full on song, Xavier had done it all. However, it was never the perfect gift from his perspective. You were his one in a million and he wouldn’t be content with giving you such normal gifts when you finally come back to him. The song he made was the best he could think of giving you and although he put a lot of time and all his efforts into it, he put it as plan b if he doesn’t come up with a better idea.

With Winter-Fest around the corner, he had no more time to think and he already ran out of ideas. Pacing around the shop, he brainstorms for another ten minute before Jeremiah shooing him out of the store. In his words, ‘Better be out there to see her than miss her in here. I do not need a year of your heartbreak’.

Amidst the white and blue hues of the snow, Jeremiah’s flower shop stands out with vibrant colourful flowers lining the front. Purple, yellow and pink are dominant as they are the freshest flowers in season. He gently cradles the flower heads, feeling their soft cold petals on his fingertips, caressing them as his mind was taken off from the anxiety of an imperfect first meeting.

Thud, a snowball came for Xavier’s head before crumbling onto his coat. He turned his head onto the source and found kids, teenagers, and adults playing in the snow field, specifically the ‘war area’. Every year the town would dedicate an area for snowball fights where all kinds of covers — battalions and base — are available. Xavier skimmed over the faces present in the field, all faces of joy. Some smiling, some grinning, some laughing maniacally as they hit another person right on their face, and some grimacing at the impact of the cleverly thrown snowball. Snowball fight might just be the most distinct part

“Hey you idiots! Don’t throw the snowballs here dammit! Stay in the war area for that!” Jeremiah’s booming voice called out to the kids in the war area who had thrown the snowball towards Xavier. His shouts were met with giggling from kids and some apologies from their guardians.

Reaching for the yellow flower that he was holding, he poked Jeremiah, “Hey, can I get some of these flowers.”

“Huh? Well you can buy it, sure.”

“How much do i need to be able to win a girl?”

“That,, why the hell are you asking me that???”

----------------------------

It took Xavier a couple of tries but thankfully he managed to do it before all his flowers were used. Xavier holds in his hands three snowballs that are just bigger than your normal ones. He sits on a bench away from the hectic festival life with discarded flower stems scattered around him on the bench. Also around him are crumbling snowballs and half made snowballs with a ruined yellow flower in them. He stares sadly at the ruined flower-snowball before gathering them to throw to the side of the road.

Now, the only thing he needs to do is to find you. His perfect gifts for the perfect first encounter is already in his hands, cradled carefully from the roughness of the world. He began his walk slowly to a more crowded area while also carefully maintaining his distance from other people in favour of protecting the snowballs filled with flowers he painstakingly made.

A couple of roads and areas later, he had not found you yet. He sadly had apparently lost one of the special snowballs when someone bumped into him and made him drop one of them. He started to think that maybe his thinking was just a delusion. You were an uptown girl, you went here once, why would you come here again. His spirits are truly in the down low now. He drags his feet as he circles around the war area, trying his best keeping his snowballs safe.

Just as he is ready to let you go and discard the special snowballs, he heard it. Your laughter, your voice, your magical spirit that just lights him up in an instant. He can see you now, more clearly than before thanks to your bright voice. There you are, standing in the war area, laughing while dodging snowballs and creating your own snowballs from the abundant snow around the area. You who are so happy throwing snowballs at each other with what he assumes are your friends, unaware of the boy who had yearned for her for the last year.

In an instant, without any thinking, he steps into the war area. His body doing its own thinking, moving his legs faster than he would normally, running through the area in hopes to get to you. His senses were like on fire, suddenly aware of everything around him, the coldness of the winter wind hitting his face, the soft snow under his boots slowly sinking under his weights, the whizzing air that follows after a snowball is thrown. His two hands tried their best at keeping the special snowballs intact.

Suddenly, he moves like a track and field athlete, cleverly dodging snowballs, leaping over fallen kids and makeshift barriers, ducking over an outstretched arm that is reaching or blocking a snowball from hitting their body. In the end, he is breathless, realising he doesn’t usually do much cardio while working in the flower shop. He is painfully aware of how pathetic he looks, hair and clothes messy because of his recklessness in crossing over the war zone, his hands that are now just holding one of his special snowball, the other one had been lost somewhere when he was rushing over, his erratic breaths trying to get oxygen in his lungs.

You now notice him, Xavier standing at arms-length from you. Your eyes wash over him like a blessing, lifting him spirits the more you see him. He knows this is far from the perfect first encounter he imagined but at this point he will take anything the world (you) will give him. Slowly, his hands stretch to show you the snowball. He slowly and carefully nudged the snow little by little until the petals of the yellow petal peek over the snow it was buried over. The yellow is like a splash of colour before the monochromatic cold tone around him. He smiles and your hand goes to receive the flower.

He opens his mouth to introduce himself…

[end.]

#xavier lads #love and deepspace x reader #fluff #imagine #lads xavier #xavier x reader #love and deepspace #lnds #lnds xavier

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mangionebabymama · 2 days ago

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hey there! it’s “lulu feels too hard” anon back with another mini rant (not really a rant, more like an observation haha)

It’s in the same vein of him feeling emotions hard, but i think one thing that needs to be emphasized in this dynamic is how much he’s tried to subdue his emotions – and i don’t just mean recently. in many clips from his prep school days, like when he’s getting an award for example, you can see him smiling like a bit, but then cutting back to this neutral expression. Funny enough, it’s his eyebrows that always give him away loool. It’s similar to how he acts in the court hearing, full of expression, but then immediately goes back to a stoic, neutral expression. There’s even moments like this in some of the clips from Hawaii.

I guess my point is, how much was he taught to mask his emotions, and put up a front. It seems to me that he was brought up in a collective environment where the saying goes “always put your best foot forward, regardless of the circumstance”. I can understand this, coming from a family with similar values of “you represent the family name, your success is our success.”

i think though, that this seems to be what makes lulu resonate with so many of us: he’s empathetic, despite trying to be stoic. There’s a duality about him – the confident Ivy League scholar and the vulnerable, empathetic people pleasing boy who seeks affirmation one way or another.

but I think under this guise of putting your best foot forward, combined with a sense of always showing your masculinity that many guys of that age are pressured to do (and let’s not forget that for most of his schooling he attended an all boys school so there is that sort of “our boys” culture that’s pervasive in these realms), he had to hide the other part of him which felt so deeply, so hard.

it reminds me of one of his Reddit posts talking about his issues with Brain Fog, and how he initially never thought to talk about it with his friends, and instead masked it under this idea of “oh well, marks don’t matter for computer science majors” even though he was hurting and feeling so disappointed in himself to the point of contemplating dropping out. But the part that sticks out to me the most is what he said after in the post about even if you do end up telling them, if you wait too long, it’s almost like they won’t believe you (or something along those lines). And idk, that’s just such a heartbreaking way to think and it makes me sad for him. He internalized so much it seems. And truthfully, I’m not blaming anyone in his circle (family/friends) because I think part of it was also lulu never wanting to seem weak, which unfortunately clouded his vision of seeing that there were people who probably may have wanted to help. It’s just an all around sad circumstance :(

Sorry for the long write up, don’t feel like you need to provide a long response too! (haha i guess in some ways, i relate to lulu too :)

No, no, please don’t apologize for writing this, you captured this so well! 🥺 I wish I had more to add on, but you literally took all the words out of mine and emphasized on this beautifully.

I also think there’s that duality of having an internal vs. external struggle, where he could easily show and offer empathy towards others like it was nothing, but when it came to himself, it was a completely different story to extend grace. I know he had to internalize a lot, and the physical exertion of carrying all that weight on him had to have shown. I remember somebody mentioning how when he’s in deep thought in some photos, you see all the lines on his forehead—and there’s a lot of them, and once you notice them all crinkled, you’ll never not look at them in other photos. So, he literally has/had so much on his mind.

Reading that part of about his brain fog, about the irony of opening up too soon to your friends, fucked me up, to be truthful. I similarity dealt with this about two years ago, when I experienced two close familial deaths within a month before I started my senior year of college, and I was grieving hard. So many people that I know looked at me and considering my bereavement with the “strong Black woman” trope because I do have a strong personality, and I’ve experienced a lot of hardship in my life, so some felt like that I was gonna be alright, regardless, and kind of brushed off my grief like, “Oh, she’ll be alright, you’ve always managed to go through things” but no, lol. It’s the reality that I think, that many of the “strongest” friends in the group more often than not, face, surprisingly, contrary to belief—it happens all the time. When you’re commended to be a strong, resilient person, people don’t consider you to be weak, as in, you can’t persevere through struggles, but if you do, you’ll be fine, and the suffering won’t take much of an effect on you. But, like anyone else in this world, it still hurts, and it’s still acceptable to just give yourself the space to say that it sucks, and it hurts to be hurting. It’s sort of like, you have that universal perception of what it means to be hurt, but you can’t express that you’re hurt in the same breath.

#💚 mangionebabymama asks

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buckets-and-trees · 20 hours ago

Text

Huffily Ever After: A CindereLloyd Story [6/8]

Chapter Six - An Afternoon Adrift

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 6.5k Summary: You're fired, and it's not a joke.

SERIES Content/Warnings: modern Cinderella adaptation, unknown identities, enemies to lovers, toxic coworkers, eventual smut

Notes: Tenth story for the Valentine Storygrams.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

"What's going on?" you asked, your voice sounding small and uncertain even to your own ears, and you hated that. "Isn't it obvious?" Amilla said, her voice as cold and sharp as an icicle. "You're fired."

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs.

"What?" you gasped, your mind reeling. "Why?"

Amilla's gaze was unflinching, her posture rigid. "We lost Zhongxin to Hansen Global this morning," she started. “Holly and Anya told me you’ve been spending every minute you can with people from Hansen Global since you got here, so since you’re clearly jumping ship, I’m cutting you out first so you don’t get the satisfaction.”

Your mind reeled, struggling to process Amilla's words. The accusation was so absurd, so far from reality, that for a moment you were speechless. The bustling lobby seemed to fade away, leaving you in a bubble of disbelief with only Amilla's cold stare penetrating the haze.

"That's... that's ridiculous," you finally managed. You cleared your throat, forcing strength into your words. "I haven't been 'spending every minute' with any one person or group. I've been attending sessions, networking with potential clients and collaborators to consult with, just like we planned."

Amilla's eyebrow arched skeptically. "Really? Because that's not what the team says. They've seen you with Claude Dumont and Lloyd Hansen multiple times and word spread that you were at the Hansen Global table at the awards gala last night cozying right up to Robert Hansen himself."

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of Amilla's accusations. "I spoke with Claude and Lloyd at a few networking events, yes. And I was invited to the Hansen table for part of the gala, but that was just—"

Amilla cut you off with a sharp wave of her hand. "Save it. The evidence is clear. Even now your boyfriend’s inserting himself after lurking in wait for you.”

You turn and look over your shoulder, angry to see Lloyd just a few steps away.

“I’m not her boyfriend,” he says, voice low and clipped.

“Stay out of this,” you hiss.

He’s not your boyfriend, nor do you want him to be, but his instant rebuttal still stung your pride in the moment.

Amilla’s laugh is devoid of any actual mirth. “You've been consorting with our biggest competitor, and now we've lost our most important international client to them. The timing is too convenient to be coincidence."

Anger rages within you, cutting through the shock. "This is ridiculous! I've poured my heart and soul into Nexus, into the Zhongxin account. I would never betray the company like that!"

"Actions speak louder than words," Amilla replied coldly. "And your actions have spoken volumes. Since it’s a firing with cause, you’re termination is effective immediately, and no severance package will be offered. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” her last words were dripping with falsely overdone politeness, “we’re done here, and I’m done with you forever.”

With that, Amilla turned on her heel and strutted away and back into the restaurant.

You stood rooted to the spot, your mind reeling as you tried to process what had just happened. The bustling hotel lobby blurred and turned to white noise, leaving you in a daze of shock and disbelief. Your career, your reputation, everything you had worked so hard for - it all felt like it was crumbling around you.

"Hey," Lloyd's voice cut through the fog of your thoughts. You'd almost forgotten he was there. "Are you okay?"

You turned to face him, anger flaring hot and bright. "Am I okay? No, I'm not okay! I just lost my job because of you and your company!"

Lloyd's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "Because of me? I had nothing to do with it!"

"Really?" you scoffed. "Your company poaches our biggest international client, then I'm accused of consorting with the enemy and fired on the spot. Seems pretty connected to me."

Lloyd took a step closer, his voice low and intense. "I had no idea Zhongxin was your client when the deal was made. And I certainly didn't orchestrate your firing."

You wanted to believe him, but doubt and anger still churned within you. "Then why were you following me just now?"

"I wasn't following you," Lloyd said, exasperation creeping into his tone. "This is a public lobby. I was on my way to meet someone when, yes, I did slow down out of curiosity and overheard the conversation. I couldn't just walk away when I heard what was happening."

He couldn't walk away when he heard what was happening? You searched his face, skeptical, before throwing out a, “Fine,” and turning away.

“Fine?” he scoffed. “You’re still pissed at me?” he followed you as you headed for the elevators.

You spun around to face Lloyd, anger flashing in your eyes. "My career just imploded in front of me, so, yeah, I’m angry, I’m hurt, but don’t flatter yourself into thinking that every one of my thoughts are centered around you, Lloyd Hansen.”

You spun and walked as swiftly as you could without running, weaving through the clusters of tourists and conference attendees in the lobby. The opulent surroundings that had once filled you with awe now seemed to mock you, a stark reminder of how quickly fortunes could change. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, their light catching on the gilded mirrors lining the walls, reflecting your harried expression back at you from every angle.

As you approached the bank of elevators, you could hear Lloyd's footsteps behind you, his longer stride allowing him to follow you easily. You jabbed the elevator button repeatedly, willing it to arrive faster, desperate to retreat to the privacy of your room.

"Wait," Lloyd tried. "Just hear me out."

The elevator dinged, its doors sliding open. You stepped inside, turning to face Lloyd as you pressed the button for your floor. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say right now," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to keep it steady.

Lloyd's hand shot out, holding the elevator door open. His blue eyes bored into yours, intense and unyielding. "Five minutes. That's all I'm asking for."

You hesitated, torn between your need to be alone and the nagging feeling that there was more to this situation than you understood. The elevator chimed impatiently, urging you to make a decision.

"I don't think there's anything left to say."

Lloyd's expression hardened, a muscle twitching in his jaw. As the doors began to close again, he delayed them once more. "You're making assumptions based on incomplete information."

You crossed your arms and pinned him with a venomous stare, “You can’t reverse what just happened, so I don’t think there’s any information you could share that would really help the situation at all, okay?”

Lloyd's jaw clenched, his piercing blue eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made you want to look away. But you held his gaze, refusing to back down.

"Fine," he conceded, his voice low and controlled. "If that's what you want."

He stepped back, allowing the elevator doors to close. As they slid shut, you caught one last glimpse of his face - a mixture of frustration and something else you couldn't quite identify. Regret? Concern?

The moment the doors closed fully, you sagged against the elevator wall, the enormity of what had just transpired was about to crash over you in waves, you could feel it. Your career, your reputation, your future - all of it had been upended in a matter of minutes. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them back furiously. You wouldn't cry, not here, not now.

The elevator ascended swiftly, and you knew you only had to keep it together for a few more minutes.

As soon as you entered your hotel room, the facade crumbled. You collapsed onto the bed, body shaking with sobs you could no longer contain. The injustice of it all overwhelmed you - the baseless accusations, the loss of the job you'd poured yourself into, and no chance to even defend yourself.

Your mind raced through the events of the past few days, searching for any sign, any clue that could have warned you of the impending disaster. But there was nothing. Just yesterday, you'd been riding high on the success of your panel discussion, feeling like you were finally carving out a place for an exciting future in the industry.

Victor trying to force himself had shaken you and been humiliating, but you had been able to work through enough of that with Maggie to know that it would just be a dark spot but not ruin everything. It had been a private struggle, and you could even guess that it wasn’t probably even that much to do with you, you just happened to be the one he’d fixed on this week.

But this?

It was personal.

You had known Amilla tolerated you because she had to and you delivered results. But she’d found a reason to finally shove you out. And now? Now you were unemployed, accused of betraying the very company you'd given your all to in the first chapters of your journey, and stranded at a conference where you no longer belonged. The weight of it all pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

As the initial shock began to subside, a new emotion started to take hold: anger. Anger at Amilla for jumping to conclusions without giving you a chance to explain. Anger at Holly and Anya for apparently spreading rumors about you. Anger at Lloyd and Hansen Global for their role in this mess, even if you weren't entirely sure what that role was.

And beneath it all, a simmering anger at yourself. Should you have seen this coming? Had you been naive in thinking your hard work and dedication would be enough to secure your place at Nexus?

Your phone buzzed incessantly on the nightstand, likely filled with messages from confused colleagues and friends who had heard snippets of gossip. But you couldn't bring yourself to look at it, not yet. The thought of facing their questions, their pity, or worse, their judgment, was too much. So you turned your phone to do not disturb for the next hour before putting it back on the nightstand.

You lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as your mind raced. The plush comforter was your only respite in this moment, and yet even that made you acutely aware that you no longer belonged here, in this posh hotel room paid for by a company that had just unceremoniously fired you.

When your phone buzzed again an hour later, it pulled you from a nap you didn’t know you’d sunken into. Your mind hadn’t quieted, but evidently being still, in the cozy bed, the emotional exhaustion had swallowed you up - racing mind and all. With a heavy sigh, you reached for your phone, bracing yourself for whatever fresh hell awaited you.

The screen was filled with notifications for missed calls, text messages, and slack alerts. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating. Did you really want to deal with this right now?

Before you could decide, a soft knock at the door startled you out of your daze. For a moment, you considered ignoring it, not wanting to face anyone. But then a familiar voice called out.

"It's Gus. Please open up."

With a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and made your way to the door. When you opened it, Gus stood there, his face etched with concern. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled you into a tight hug.

"I don’t even know what to say," he said softly. "I'm so sorry."

You melted into his embrace, fresh tears streaming down your face, but at least you were past sobbing - for the moment.

"How did you find out?" you asked, your voice muffled against Gus's shoulder.

Gus pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders. "Word spreads fast at these things. I overheard some people gossiping about it in the hallway. I couldn't believe it, and I tried to text you but you didn’t answer, so I came straight here."

You stepped back, allowing Gus to enter the room. As you closed the door, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. At least you weren't completely alone in this mess.

"I know it happened, but I still can't believe it," you admitted, sinking onto the edge of the bed. "One minute I'm preparing for what I assumed would be a red alert meeting, and the next..."

Gus sat beside you, his brow furrowed. "What exactly did happen? The rumor mill is going wild, but I want to hear it from you."

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Amilla had set you up for a spectacle in your firing. That was abundantly clear now.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to recount the painful scene. "Amilla, Anya, and Holly were already there - she told me to meet them at noon, but they’d already been seated and had ordered even though I was a few minutes early. She ushered me out into the lobby, accused me of conspiring with Hansen Global, said we lost the Zhongxin account to them because of me. She fired me on the spot, effective immediately, and said it was so I couldn’t quit on Nexus after what I’d done."

Gus's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's insane! You've been nothing but loyal to Nexus. How could she think you'd betray the company like that?"

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up again. "Apparently, Holly and Anya have been spreading rumors about me spending time with people from Hansen Global. And then Lloyd showed up right as Amilla was firing me, which only made things worse."

"Lloyd? As in Lloyd Hansen?" Gus asked, his tone sharpening slightly.

You nodded, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yeah, he just appeared out of nowhere. He said it was just terrible timing, but it definitely didn't help my case."

Gus's eyes narrowed. "What did he want?"

"He tried to talk to me afterwards, said he wanted to explain something," you replied, shaking your head. "But I was too upset to listen. I just wanted to get away from everyone."

Gus was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "Do you think... is there any chance he actually knows something about what happened?"

You paused, considering. In your anger and shock, you hadn't given Lloyd any chance to speak. "I don't know. Maybe? But even if he does, how could it possibly change anything? I've still been fired.”

"And what exactly is your relationship with Lloyd Hansen?"

You felt a flash of irritation at the implication in Gus's tone. "There is no relationship," you countered firmly. "We've interacted at a few events, that's all. He invited me to dance at the afterparty of the gala last night, but it was purely professional, and then he helped me out in that Victor altercation as any decent person would have."

Gus looked skeptical. "Are you sure about that? He seems pretty interested in you."

You stood up abruptly, and began pacing the room. "Even if he is - which I'm not at all convinced of - it doesn't matter," you said, your voice rising with frustration. "What matters is that I've lost my job and I have no idea what I'm going to do next."

Gus held up his hands in a placating gesture. "You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be pushing you about this right now. What can I do to help?"

You stopped pacing and took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "I don't know, Gus. I feel like I'm drowning here."

"Okay, let's take this one step at a time," Gus said, his tone gentle but firm. "First things first, do you want to stay for the rest of the conference?"

You hadn't even considered that. The thought of facing everyone after what had happened made your gut churn. “No, but I don’t have the money to just jump on a plane back home. God, am I even still allowed to stay in this room? Nexus was paying for everything for our travel!”

Gus's expression softened. "Don't worry about that right now. We'll figure it out. If you need to, you can crash in my room until we sort things out."

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. "Thanks, Gus. I don't know what I'd do without you right now."

He gave you a small smile. "That's what friends are for.”

You nodded, grateful for Gus's steady presence. As you both sat in silence for a moment, your phone buzzed again, startling you back to its presence.

"You should probably check that," Gus said gently, “but do you want to yet?”

You grimaced at him before your eyes flicked back to the phone.

“Okay, no,” Gus said, “there might be something important, but I’m making the executive decision that it can all wait for at least one more hour. We’re going out for a walk. Fresh air and the city streets will be good for your soul, and then you can with all of this,” he snatched your phone from the nightstand, shaking it around before pocketing it in his pocket.

You frowned, but nodded. You felt like you should be ready, but you weren’t ready. “Okay. But one hour. Then I should at least skim things.”

“Totally agree to that. Now go splash some water on your face, grab a jacket, and then we’re going. I downloaded six audio-guided walking tours of the city and have only done one of them!”

You managed a weak smile at Gus's enthusiasm. "Alright, alright. Give me a minute."

In the bathroom, you did as instructed and splashed cold water on your face, trying to erase the evidence of your tears. The person staring back at you in the mirror looked pale and shell-shocked, but at least your eyes were no longer red and puffy. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the outside world.

You and Gus were able to head down to the ground floor and make your way out out of the hotel without bumping into anyone, and the bustling city street hit you with a wave of noise and energy. It was jarring after the quiet cocoon of your room, but also oddly comforting. The world was still turning, life was going on all around you, oblivious to your personal crisis.

Gus handed you an earbud and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times as you inserted the proffered but and then a chipper voice began narrating directly into your ear.

"Welcome to the Hidden Gems of Paris-Montparnasse according to an ex-pat Walking Tour! I'll be exploring some of the lesser-known historical sites and architectural wonders of this vibrant city. Let's begin our journey at the Saint-Jacques Metro station…"

As you and Gus followed the audio guide's instructions, weaving through the bustling streets, you felt some of the tension in your body start to ease with the movement. The narrator's enthusiastic descriptions of century-old buildings and quirky local legends provided a welcome distraction from the turmoil of your thoughts.

Gus occasionally nudged you, pointing out particularly interesting details or making quiet jokes about some of the more outlandish claims in the tour. His presence was comforting, a reminder that you weren't alone in this mess.

After about forty-five minutes, you were just exiting the Gardens of the Observatory of Paris when Gus suddenly tensed beside you. You turned to follow his gaze, and the sight that greeted you was both unexpected and overwhelming.

There stood Maggie, her arms laden with an assortment of paper bags. Next to her, also holding bags and looking slightly uncomfortable but determined, was Claude Dumont.

"What a perfect coicidence!" Maggie exclaimed, her voice infused with a forced cheerfulness that didn't quite reach her eyes as they approached. "We were on our way back to the hotel to try and find you - and we come bearing sustenance for the weary."

You stood frozen for a moment, your mind struggling to process this new development.

“What do you say to a picnic here in the park?” Maggie suggested more than asked.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to press on with the walking tour or retreat back to your room and the realization that you couldn't hide forever. Gus squeezed your arm gently, a silent show of support.

"I guess that would be okay," you managed. These were two people

Maggie's smile softened, becoming more genuine. "Wonderful. Let's find a nice spot, shall we?"

Following Maggie and Claude deeper into the garden, you couldn't help but notice the tense set of Claude's shoulders. He kept glancing at you, but didn’t speak yet, the tension palpable but manageable as Claude's presence served as a stark reminder of the company at the center of your predicament.

You found a secluded area with a few benches surrounding a small fountain. The gentle sound of water provided a soothing backdrop as Maggie and Claude began unpacking their bags.

"We've got a bit of everything," Maggie announced, beginning to open bags. The rich scent of freshly baked bread wafted towards you, mingling with the sharp tang of cheese and the sweet promise of pastries. It was a sensory bliss that further distracted you from the upheaval of your life today. Your stomach growled in approval, reminding you that you’d missed lunch.

"I... hope my presence is not wholly unwelcome," Claude said, his usually confident demeanor somewhat subdued. He held out bottles of sparkling water and spring water, letting you take your pick. "I insisted on accompanying Maggie on her mission to find and feed you. I thought perhaps I could offer some clarity on the situation."

You felt a conflicting surge of emotions. Over the past few days, you'd grown fond of Claude. His wit, charm, and genuine interest in your ideas had been a breath of fresh air in the often stuffy atmosphere of the conference. His friendly overtures had been so genuine and welcome, but now…

You hesitated, torn between your desire for answers and your instinct to protect yourself from further hurt.

Maggie intervened, her voice gentle. "I know it's a lot, but I think you should hear him out. Claude reached out to me the moment he heard, and... well, I think there's more to this story than we realize."

You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself.

"Okay," you said finally.

The late afternoon sun slanted through the window, casting long shadows across the landscape and illuminating the worry lines etched on Claude's face.

Claude cleared his throat, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on his knee. "First, I want to say how deeply sorry I am about what's happened. The deal with Zhongxin... it was news to me this morning as well."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you exchanged a quick glance with Gus, who looked equally taken aback.

"What do you mean? You’re head of international relations at Hansen Global.”

Claude nodded, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Indeed I am. But the world of international business is often more complex than it appears on the surface." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he began to explain.

"You see, Zhongxin has been a coveted client for many companies in our industry for quite some time. Months ago, when they opened up a bidding process, inviting proposals for representation, multiple companies jumped at the chance, including both Nexus and Hansen Global. I was heavily involved in our pitch, given my role. We put together what I believed to be an impressive proposal - innovative strategies, cutting-edge technologies, the works."

As Claude spoke, you found yourself transported back to those intense weeks of preparation at Nexus. The late nights, the endless revisions, the nervous energy that had permeated the office. You remembered the thrill when Nexus had been selected, the pride you'd felt in being part of the team that secured such a prestigious client. The memory now felt bittersweet, tainted by recent events.

Claude continued, his voice drawing you back to the present. "We lost that bid to Nexus, fair and square. It was disappointing, of course, but not entirely unexpected given Nexus's stellar reputation emerging in the Asian market."

You nodded, a small spark of pride flickering despite everything. Your team had worked incredibly hard on that pitch.

“I have a longtime friend who is a member of Zhongxin’s board, so afterwards I asked if there was anything we could have done differently, anything that might have swayed their decision. And do you know what my friend told me?"

You shook your head, curiosity piqued despite yourself.

"He said no, that our proposal was excellent. But then he mentioned something interesting. He said that in the end, there was a dynamic young professional on the Nexus team that they had a really good feeling about. Someone who had not only showed remarkable insight and passion during the presentations, but who had been diligent, eager, and helpful in all correspondence from the beginning stages up to the end." Claude paused, and his gaze intense gaze held a visible glimmer of admiration despite the gravity of the situation. "He was talking about you."

The revelation hit you like a wave, momentarily washing away the ache of your recent firing. You remembered the pitch meeting vividly - the way you'd passionately presented your ideas, the energy in the room, the approving nods from the Zhongxin representatives. At the time, you'd attributed their positive response to the strength of the overall proposal. Now, learning that you had played such a pivotal role in securing the account filled you with a bittersweet pride.

“I told you the night we met that I was already aware of your work in Southeast Asia and this was what pointed me in your direction, and I’ve been keeping tabs on your work since then.”

Claude's words hung in the air for a moment as you processed this new information. You felt a mix of pride and confusion, unsure how to reconcile this revelation with your current situation.

"But if I was such a key factor in winning the account," you began, your voice wavering slightly, "then why would Zhongxin suddenly switch to Hansen Global? And why would Amilla think I had anything to do with it?"

Claude's expression darkened. "That's where things get complicated. And, I'm afraid, rather ugly."

He paused, seeming to weigh how to proceed with the next bit. The air was thick with tension as everyone waited for him to continue.

Claude sighed, running a hand through his hair. "About a month ago, I started hearing whispers that Zhongxin was starting to become unhappy with Nexus. Nothing concrete, just murmurs of discontent. I didn't think much of it at first - client relationships often have ups and downs, especially as two parties learn to navigate the client relationship in the first year.

"But then," Claude continued, his voice lowering, "I heard something that troubled me deeply. There were rumors that someone at Nexus was deliberately sabotaging the Zhongxin account."

You felt your stomach drop. "What? That's impossible. We were all working so hard on that account!"

Claude nodded grimly. "I have no doubt that you were. But the whispers persisted. Now you worked most often with Min Ho Song, correct?"

“Yes.”

“And Min Ho learned that your team director, Amilla Tremaine, was making a trip to Shanghai to meet with a potential new client.”

“That’s right. Amilla and Zhongxin’s schedules weren’t lining up while she was going to be there, and since Zhongxin wasn’t paying to bring her out, she had to prioritize the other client, but Min Ho and the team seemed like they were understanding.”

“Well, it turns out Amilla did find a pocket of time to meet with Zhongxin.”

A pit began to form in your stomach.

Claude's expression grew even more somber as he continued. "According to my friend on the board, Amilla's meeting with Zhongxin was disastrous. She arrived nearly an hour late, offering only a flippant apology about traffic. This, in a culture where punctuality is highly valued, especially in business settings."

You felt your chest tighten, imagining the scene. The Zhongxin executives, impeccably dressed and perfectly on time, waiting in a sleek conference room as the minutes ticked by. The growing tension, the exchanged glances, the murmured concerns.

"But it gets worse," Claude said, his voice low. "Throughout the meeting, Amilla reportedly displayed a dismissive attitude towards Zhongxin's concerns and questions. She interrupted speakers, checked her phone repeatedly, and at one point even rolled her eyes at a suggestion from one of their senior board members."

You felt sick. This was not wildly different than how she treated you, but you were stunned that she had treated any client this way - especially one as large as Zhongxin.

“Seemingly fed up with their input and concerns, she proposed drastic changes to the current strategies - strategies that, as I understand it, were largely based on ideas you had pitched to launch some of their key campaign and marketing strategies. When they tried to express that they only wanted to discuss adjustments and expansions, she said they should trust her expertise - that she didn’t tell them how to do their jobs, so they shouldn’t tell her how to do hers.”

Your jaw dropped.

“The chair of the board then said she was right - and as board chair, he knew when it was time to terminate a toxic partnership.”

“Wait,” Gus interjected. “Are you saying that Amilla knew she killed the relationship before she even left Shanghai?”

Claude nodded. “Before she even left the building.”

“What the hell! How long did she think she’d be able to keep this quiet? Or did she think she’d be able to recover?” Gus asked.

You were still too stunned to speak.

“She may have even thought closing a deal with the new client would compensate for losing Zhongxin,” Maggie tossed out.

Claude shook his head, a wry smile playing at his lips. "It's anyone's guess what was going through Amilla's mind. Perhaps she thought she could salvage the situation, or maybe she believed losing Zhongxin wouldn't be as catastrophic as it's turned out to be. The human mind has an remarkable capacity for self-deception, especially when pride and ego are involved."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the lush gardens surrounding you. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground and highlighting the vibrant colors of the flowers nearby. A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming roses, mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly cut grass.

"As for Zhongxin," Claude continued, his attention returning to you, "they didn't waste any time. After deciding to terminate their contract with Nexus, they immediately revisited the proposals that had been on the table a year ago. Our offer, it seems, still held viability and appeal for them. They worked with our office in Southeast Asia to finalize and sign the deal in the last twelve hours, and by the nature of the time difference, I only found out a couple of hours before they issued their press statement.”

You felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you - anger at Amilla, disbelief at the turn of events, and a growing sense of injustice. "But why would Amilla accuse me of betraying the company? Why fire me?"

Claude's expression darkened. "That's where things get even uglier. It seems Amilla needed a scapegoat."

Maggie leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. "Think about it. Amilla knew she'd messed up catastrophically. She needed someone to blame, and fast."

"And I was the perfect target," you said, the realization running like ice through your veins. "Young, ambitious, someone she's never fully trusted or liked, and the person who had the closest relationship with the Zhongxin team."

Claude nodded grimly. "Exactly. By pinning the blame on you, she could potentially save face with the higher-ups at Nexus. She could claim that you had been secretly working with Hansen Global, feeding us information, and that's why we were able to swoop in so quickly after the fallout."

"That's ridiculous!" Gus exclaimed, his face flushed with anger. "There's no evidence to support that!"

"Evidence isn't always necessary when someone is desperate to cover their tracks," Maggie said softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Not in the corporate jungle.”

You felt numb, struggling to process the enormity of what you were hearing. The injustice of it all made your head spin. You had poured your heart and soul into that account, into Nexus, only to have it all ripped away because of Amilla's incompetence and desperation to save face.

"So what happens now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Claude leaned forward, his eyes intense. "That's up to you. But I want you to know that Hansen Global would be more than happy to bring you on board. In fact, when Zhongxin signed with us, they specifically suggested we poach you."

You blinked in surprise. "They did?"

Claude nodded. "They spoke very highly of your work and insights."

A small spark of pride ignited in your chest, but it was quickly doused by the weight of everything else. "I... I don't know. This is a lot to consider.”

"But this isn’t fair!" Gus retorted, his face still furious. "We can't let her get away with this!"

You appreciated Gus's righteous indignation on your behalf, but a creeping sense of hopelessness was settling in. "What can we even do? It's my word against hers.”

Gus gasped then.

“What?” you asked immediately.

“Helen!”

“Helen?”

“Yes!” he laughed. “She just landed a few hours ago! You’ve got to talk to her! You were basically her protégé! She’ll have to believe you!”

With all the drama, you’d forgotten she was on her way to Paris from Amsterdam, and while you’d been thrilled with that news this morning, now you were nervous to face her - if so many others knew you’d been fired, she certainly would by now, too.

Gus hastily pulled your phone from his pocket and thrust it into your hands. You bit your lip as you turned off Do Not Disturb.

Sure enough, among the sea of notifications, one stood out - a DM in Slack from Helen, your former boss and now the VP of Strategy and Innovation.

HELEN: We need to talk as soon as you can.

It had been sent almost an hour ago.

You stared at Helen's message, your heart racing. This could be your chance to set the record straight, to have someone with real influence at Nexus hear your side of the story. But doubt crept in - what if Helen had already made up her mind? What if she believed Amilla's version of events? Amilla was the one she’d hired as a director.

"Well?" Gus prompted, his eyes bright with anticipation. "Are you going to message her back?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Yes, I am."

With trembling fingers, you typed out a reply:

YOU: I'm available now if you are. Where would you like to meet?

The response came almost immediately:

HELEN: Meet me in the hotel lobby in 15 minutes.

You showed the others the message, a mix of hope and apprehension swirling in your stomach.

"This is good," Maggie said reassuringly. "Helen knows you, she'll listen to your side of the story."

“And if not, I’m serious about making you an offer,” Claude reiterated.

“Do not accept anything from him until you speak with me though,” Maggie said. “I’ve been wanting to start my own think tank, and I came to the conference this year specifically to scope out members to flesh out my team.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Wait, really?”

Maggie's eyes sparkled with excitement as she nodded. "Yes, really! I've been planning this for months, but I wanted to find the right people to bring on board. And after seeing you in action this week, I'm more convinced than ever that you'd be perfect for what I have in mind."

You felt a rush of warmth at her words, a stark contrast to the cold dismissal you'd received from Amilla earlier. The idea of working with Maggie, of being part of something new and innovative, was incredibly appealing.

"That's... wow, Maggie. I don't know what to say," you stammered, genuinely touched by her offer.

Maggie's smile widened. "Say you'll have dinner with me tonight so we can discuss it properly. I've got a reservation at this charming little restaurant I discovered last time I was in Paris.”

You nodded eagerly, “Yes, that would be perfect! Thank you." And then you said it again with more softness and warmth, looking at each of them. “Thank you. I don't know how I would have gotten through this day without your support.”

You felt so much gratitude for these people who believed in you, even in the face of this disaster - Maggie who had known while during your graduate pursuit, Gus who had worked along side you since you started at Nexus, and Claude who’d only known you a few days but had apparently been watching your career over the past year.

As you stood to leave, Claude reached out and gently touched your arm. "Remember, regardless of what happens with Helen, you have options. Amilla's actions will not define your future."

You smiled, determination taking root in your gut again at his words. You had always worked hard for everything. It was just time to pick up and do it again.

With a deep breath, you set off towards the hotel, Gus at your side, your mind racing with all you'd learned and the conversation to come. The walk back seemed both too long and too short, your nerves growing with each step.

The hotel lobby bustled with conference attendees, their animated chatter creating a low hum of background noise. Your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Helen's familiar face. You spotted her almost immediately. She was seated in one of the plush armchairs, her tablet in hand, looking every bit the powerful executive you remembered. When she saw you, she stood, Gus squeezed your shoulder in a show of support and good luck, and you stood a little taller as you approached the Nexus VP of Strategy and Innovation.

"Hello," she said, her voice calm and measured. "I think we need to talk.”

next chapter: coming February 17

Only two more chapters!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #chris evans characters #aspen wrote something #huffily ever after #female reader #aspen's valentine storygrams

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kittynugg · 3 days ago

Text

hi i wrote some stangst

forgst

words: 1,737

p.s: REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!! credit to my pal @empressofsamoyeds (soorry for the tag) for the idea! ALSO DO NOT TAG THIS AS SHIP CONTENT. THIS IS NOT FOR YOU IF YOU SHIP THEM.

Stan stepped out of the shower, shuddering as the cold air hit his skin. Like every other time he showered he was quick to towel himself off and get dressed in the first clothes he could get his hands on. So.. the clothes he’d been wearing for the past month, now? They smelled. He’d have to do something about that sooner or later.

The mirror was fogged up as he tied up his damp hair, but he could still see just enough of what he was doing to get it done.

He stared at his blurry reflection. When he reached to wipe the condensation off of the surface he hesitated, his expression somehow going more blank than that numbness he’d been used to for years. That was.. Funny. He kinda looked like Ford with his hair up like that and the mirror all foggy.

No, he really looked like him.

That familiar empty feeling washed over him as he looked into the mirror, his brain filling in the blanks made by the distorted surface. A pair of glasses. A coat. The haunted look of a guy who’d seen things that shouldn’t even be possible in his eyes.

It took him a while to tear his attention away, maybe a couple of minutes, but once he did he rubbed the sting out of his eyes and left the bathroom. His “walk” had become more of a trudge in the past few weeks. He did whatever that was down the hall. Something about almost seeing his face made his feet even heavier, made the decision to get up that morning even more regrettable.

But it also gave him this weird resolve to keep going.

Maybe if he didn’t kill himself he could actually see that face. Alive, safe, maybe even happy.

He kicked open the door to the office or study he was staying in, announcing in a sitcom-y voice, “honey, I’m home!” Then he put his hands on his hips with a distant grin. “Oh, wait! I don’t have a wife! Or a husband! I’m all alone and nobody fuckin’ loves me because the only person who ever did is god-knows-where!” An unhinged laugh bubbled up in his chest.

“..Anyway,” he flattened after finishing his manic display, then collapsed face-first into the couch he’d been ‘sleeping’ on. Nice couch. Felt like the only thing in the world that actually supported him. “But it’s an inanimate object,” Ford would say, not getting the joke.

And then he’d say something like.. “You’re an inanimate object, nerd.” Then Ford would tell him that was wrong and that he wasn’t making any sense. Stan would just laugh at him.

Back in the real world, he shifted on the cushions to make himself comfortable. He knew just how bad the idea was. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get up. Right now, he just couldn’t force himself to care. Whenever he was up, he’d be up. Wasn’t like anything was waiting for him. Ford actually wasn’t on the other side of that portal, facing whatever it was that had him terrified enough to speak to him again.

Everything was fine. Great, even! So great that he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He heaved a muffled sigh into the couch, knowing that if he pulled his face away from it now it’d be stained with tears. Now he was fucking crying.

Pa would tell him to man up and do something about it. When he tried, his arms wouldn’t move to push him up and his legs only shifted into a more comfortable position. The couch was warm. The basement was so, so cold.

Get up.

He tried again. This time he was too lazy to move at all.

Repeating the command didn’t work. Get up.

Just get up. You need to get up so you can work on the portal so you can get Ford back so you won’t have a reason to cry anymore. Come on, this is the first step. The first step is always the hardest. Up up up. Please.

Instead of listening, his body just sighed again. Then he folded his arms under his forehead to put some space between his face and the couch and shut his eyes.

----

Eventually, he found himself blearily waking up with half of his body hanging on the couch and the rest on the floor. The very first thing that caught his eye was the light from the window glinting against Ford’s glasses, abandoned on the table where he could be reminded of why he was still kicking every time he woke up.

He peeled himself off the hardwood floor with a grunt and stood there for a moment as his shitty excuse for a brain sputtered and revved like his car when he tried to start it. He’d have to do something about that sooner or later.

…

Ford. Right.

A hesitant hand reached toward the glasses, and he turned them in his hand. The lenses were smudged. Ford never let his glasses get smudged. Always crystal clear or it was like he didn’t have them at all, they had to be perfect. He wondered if Ford still carried a spare on him. If he didn’t.. Shit, Stan couldn’t even imagine that. Not just being sucked into whatever nightmare he was so worried about but having to deal with it blind.

The thought of Ford, his brother, of all the people on this Earth (or.. outside of it), going through that made him sick. Maybe he should eat sometime today. Slice of toast might settle his stomach down for a bit.

He stared down at the spectacles in his hand and shook his head, then wiped them on his shirt. Lifting them up to the window shone enough light through the lenses for him to see that they were still smudged, just.. Spread around. His shirt was dirty.

Typical, he just made it worse. A look was cast around the room, nearly untouched in the month he’d been there. “Just fuckin’ poetic,” he whispered to himself if only to test if he even had it in him to talk. “It’s just like my life.” His eyes narrowed at the glasses. “..In a way.”

Barely resisting the urge to throw the damn thing, he set the glasses back on the table and looked toward the door. He should get to work.

He picked up the glasses again, leaving the room with the gait of someone wading in cement.

It was the same autopilot he’d been on for ages that led him back into the bathroom. When he slipped the glasses onto his face, his vision actually cleared a little. Maybe he should look into getting an eye test sometime.

He put up a finger and spoke in his best Ford impression, “I may be a little bookworm, but I know what I’m talking about!” The sheer accuracy of the voice made him chuckle. He sounded just like him!

When he found himself staring at his reflection again, his other hand reached for the shower. The knob creaked as he turned it to the highest temperature and he watched absently as the mirror fogged up again.

Hair was up. Glasses were on.

They really were twins..

His shoulders drooped, and after a few seconds of careful consideration he spoke up. “Hey, Poindexter.” No, that wasn’t right. Say his name. “..Ford.”

Another pause. Then he folded his arms behind his back and spoke in that impression again. “Stanley,” he greeted himself under his breath. Something about it, something about hearing Ford’s voice and– and almost seeing his face was..

It hurt.

But it felt good. The kind of hurt that he couldn’t help but reach for, like the burn of alcohol or a cigarette. Speaking of which, he was running out. He’d have to do something about that sooner or later. Not now. He was busy right now.

“I’m, uh..” his fingertips tapped together in a subconscious tic. “Still trying to get you back, Ford.” A smile spread across his face and he gestured behind him with his thumb. “I’ve been reading your textbooks, yanno, it’s actually startin’ to make sense. It’s not as fancy and sophisticated as you had it but it’s something to show for all the work I’ve been puttin’ in..”

Arms made their way behind his back again and he straightened his posture a little. “My idiot brother, learning physics..” A wistful sigh from “Ford”. “And it only took the worst tragedy of your life to finally kickstart it.” His expression softened, and he moved to place his hand on a shoulder that wasn’t there. His fingers twitched. “You know I’m proud of you, right? Not everyone would go through this much effort for.. Anyone, really.”

He needed to hear that. From the real Ford. This was good enough for now.

“I know, yeah.. I just– I hope you’re still out there. If you’re dead, or.. worse, I don’t know what I’d do with myself, Ford. I don’t know what I’d fucking do, and–” he took in a sharp breath, running a hand down the side of his face. His nails dug into the skin. “And I’m really scared to think about it.”

Silence.

His voice cracked when he spoke again. “..I’m scared, Ford.” The glasses over his eyes and the fog fading from the mirror left him with nothing. Nothing. A reminder of just how little he had. That was it.

And Ford offered no response.

Tears dirtied the lenses of the glasses even more, so he took them off and swiped at his eyes. He set them on the rim of the sink. This was stupid. All of this was stupid. Why was he still here? Why was he still holding on?

His legs wobbled underneath him and he just.. sat on the floor and gave in. With a shaky breath, he gave his tears a moment to fall and murmured into his knees, “because you’re my brother.”

It took him a few minutes. Maybe half an hour. But eventually, Stan pushed himself up and retrieved Ford’s glasses. He rinsed them in the sink to clean the dried tears off of them and only stopped when they were spotless. Crystal clear. The way Ford liked them.

Turning to leave, he muttered, “Love you, bro.”

“I love you too, Stanley. I’m sorry for everything.”

..He already forgave him.

(note: might be a part two with ford if im feeling brave)

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nexiva · 15 hours ago

Text

You made me hate you

Part 4

Bucky x reader

Warnings: ok now they really hate each other, really angsty part and a lot of swearing (again)

Summary: A not so nice morning in the kitchen with Sam and Bucky

A/N: I couldn’t wait any longer haha so enjoy this part :)

Masterlist

Five months. Five months of avoiding each other like the plague. And when we do run into each other? Jesus Christ, even Captain America himself would bolt from the room.

Barnes has gotten a little more… how do I put it? Confident. In the wrong way. About three months ago, he was still trying to talk to me, still trying to convince me—just like everyone else. But I wouldn’t give in. I would never forgive him. Maybe after all this time, it seems childish, but I didn’t care. I stood firmly on my ground.

And once everyone realized I wasn’t going to change my mind, that’s when things started heating up. Barnes was starting to get so cocky. The worse my remarks got, the more he started snapping back at me. I could see I was driving him insane—not that it was my intention. I just didn’t want to see him. But since he was already there, I couldn’t stop myself from throwing sharp comments his way. Until, finally, he had enough and started fighting back.

“Fuck, Sam, I swear I tried everything. But she wouldn’t even let me get a word in. I’m so done with this. Guess some amends just can’t be made.”

I walked into the kitchen with every intention of ignoring Barnes and making myself a great breakfast. “Morning, Wilson.” “Hey, Y/L/N.”

I could tell Sam was uncomfortable, but that didn’t stop him from asking a stupid question. “So, Bucky and I were about to go for a run. Do you wanna join us?”

Oh God. Pathetic.

Barnes practically choked on his coffee, barely stopping himself from suffocating (what a shame that would be).

“If I were you, I wouldn’t let him outside. He might ‘accidentally’ run over someone and then claim he was forced to do it.”

Oh, I knew that one was going to hurt. But it rolled off my tongue so sweetly that I couldn’t stop myself.

Barnes threw his cup against the wall. Sam flinched slightly.

“You are a cunt, you know that?”

Bucky stepped closer like he was about to throw hands. I got up immediately.

“What? You gonna kill me too now? Finally finish collecting the whole family, asshole?”

And he just stared.

Nothingness in his eyes.

I wanted it to hurt. I wanted him to feel exactly the way I did. But strangely, there was no satisfaction in seeing him suffer. It wasn’t as enjoyable as I had imagined. So much time had passed, my rage had only grown, and yet… I couldn’t put a name to that stupid feeling inside me. Oh no, it definitely wasn’t sympathy or guilt—it was just exhausting.

For the first time, I saw something in his eyes. Fear?

I didn’t care to figure it out. Not at that moment.

“Fuck you,” was all he said before leaving the kitchen.

I sat down with a small smirk but also with a hint of uncertainty (hopefully, it didn’t show).

“Um, so that went well?”

Sam, not knowing what else to do, sat down with me.

“Y/N, aren’t you tired of this?”

The bastard could actually read my mind sometimes.

“Despite everything, you two have a lot in common. He was under HYDRA, you had NEXUS. You really should—”

I couldn’t listen to him any longer.

“Despite everything? You mean the fact that he killed my sister? And HYDRA? NEXUS? We have nothing in common. I never killed anyone for someone else. No one ever controlled me like some brainless puppet!”

“Because Fury saved you! You little brat! You think you wouldn’t have done the same as him if Nick hadn’t stepped in?”

Silence.

A long, awkward silence.

I had no idea how to respond. And I sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he was right—even if he was.

“I wonder if you’d say the same thing about him if Fury hadn’t shown up back then. You need to get it together, Y/N, because everyone is tired of your shit.”

Sam stood up, looked at me, and walked out.

I couldn’t admit he was right. I couldn’t get rid of the fog in my head. That horrible memory.

I refused to back down.

The kitchen felt emptier than before.

Sam’s words hung in the air like a goddamn storm cloud, suffocating me, pressing against my chest. "Everyone is tired of your shit."

I clenched my fists. Fuck him. Fuck them all. They didn’t get it. They weren’t the ones who had to wake up every morning and remember that someone ripped their soul apart like it was nothing. They weren’t the ones who had to stand in the same room as the murderer and pretend like he was just another member of the goddamn team.

I grabbed a piece of toast and took a slow bite, staring at the shattered ceramic from Bucky’s cup still lying on the floor. Someone else could clean it up. I wasn’t going to.

The compound was quiet now, except for the faint hum of the fridge and the distant sound of traffic outside. I let myself breathe. But my hands were still shaking.

Then I heard it—the door slamming shut.

I exhaled through my nose, already knowing who it was.

“What the fuck do you want now, Barnes?”

Silence.

I turned my head slightly, and there he was, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. He looked like he hadn’t cooled down one bit since storming out of here a few minutes ago.

“I’m not done talking.”

I let out a dry laugh. “That’s funny, I could’ve sworn you told Sam you were done trying.”

His nostrils flared. Good. I wanted him angry. I wanted him to feel something.

He took a step forward. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Y/N.”

I shot him a look. “Oh, I don’t? Enlighten me. Please.”

His eyes darkened. “You think you’re the only one who lost someone? You think you’re the only one who wakes up every day hating the person in the mirror?”

That caught me off guard. For a second. But I didn’t let it show.

“The difference between us, Winter Soldier?” I stood up, stepping closer until there were just inches between us. “I lost my family. You were the one pulling the goddamn trigger.”

He swallowed hard. I saw his fingers twitch—just slightly. Like he wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Or grab something. Maybe grab me.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he let out a bitter chuckle and looked down.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice was lower now. Tighter. “Every goddamn day, I think about the people I killed. I hear them screaming in my fucking head. And you?” He shook his head, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “You don’t even want revenge anymore. You just want something to be angry at.”

I stiffened.

He saw it. He fucking saw it, and I hated him for it.

“Go to hell, Barnes.”

His lips curled into a humorless smirk. “Already been there, sweetheart.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and left, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, pulse racing, and for the first time in a long time—completely speechless.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #enemies to lovers #slow burn #marvel #the avengers #white wolf #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #sam wilson #captain america #i hate everything #i hate this #winter soldier #soldat #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x y/n

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thebrothel · 12 hours ago

Note

Heyyyy❤️ I’m here for the sleepover and I hope I’m not late😅 I don’t know what I’m asking for, anything honestly, but I’ve been thinking a lot about my man Nightwalks and his friendship with baby Vamp. I love their bromance so much and I’m definitely not opposed to be in that sandwich. So what if my car breaks down and it’s raining and I happen to walk to the brothel to ask for help and Nws and Vamp take me to their room to warm me up and Vamp is sweet and a little shy and Nws is 🥵🫠😵‍💫 asdfghjkl ya know, does his thing (this scenario brought me comfort when I was sick the last time🥹) I’m not even asking for smut. Just anything about these two will make me happy❤️😍

Love y’all and love you, Toxy💖💖💖

men of the night

After blowing out your tire, you pull into a sprawling, wooded estate. It's a foggy evening, and you get quite a scare. But your luck turns around when a mysterious man carries you to safety.

STARRING: vampire!Joel x f!reader x night walks!joel

LENGTH: 3.6k words

CONTENT: 18+ comfort, smut, minor injury, blood

NOTES: Love you, kate! I'm so happy these two bring you comfort. Ty ALL for your patience and support. Hope y'all enjoy this one. I do. 🩷

Your phone has been dead for a while by the time your tire pops. As your car hobbles along, you have no choice but to turn into the first driveway you see. Two big, steel gates are sitting open enough for you to pull in. Just after dusk, a dense fog has settled over the area.

What is this place?

You drive slowly, looking for signs of life. Someone you can ask for help, or at least to use their phone.

The road is winding. There are woods, lots of woods. When the tread falls off your tire completely, you’re still in a remote part of the complex, but you have no choice but to pull over.

It starts raining.

You get out your tire-changing supplies and you’re taking the spare tire out of your trunk when an imposing figure appears in your peripheral vision. You stare at the tire and freeze. Your heart races. You’d know that figure anywhere. That stance. But it must be your imagination. Michael Myers isn’t stalking around some remote old estate waiting for a victim to blow out their tire. It’s probably the property owner. . . or groundskeeper. Huge groundskeeper. By the time you find the courage to look in the hulking figure’s direction, he’s gone. You exhale in relief, but then–are you hearing things, or are there footsteps receding into the forest?

You need a minute. Deep breaths.

Several deep breaths. Eyes closed.

Then, back to the task at hand.

You start using the tire jack and a sharp corner slices a hot line across the heel of your palm. “Shit,” you whisper.

You’re staring at your hand when a gentle voice some distance behind you calls, “Hey, You okay?” You jump and gasp, and he says, “Didn’t mean to scare ya, sorry.”

You look over to see the silhouette of a man in a cape approaching. As his form pushes through the fog, you can see it’s not a cape, it’s a cardigan. He has the face of a kind professor. “Lost?” he asks, and his nose twitches. You stand up to face him, and his eyes fall on your bleeding hand. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters then yanks his eyes back to your face. He swallows and takes a handkerchief out of his cardigan then steps forward and hands it to you. “Here,” he whispers, then backs up and turns away to offer you a private moment, putting his hands back in his pockets.

You thank him.

His adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, then he inhales through his nose and tilts his head up to the sky and mutters “Jesus.” He takes a deep breath through his mouth and composes himself, then forces a chuckle as he looks at you again. “All good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“Sorry, I’m Vahh....” his voice trails off as he realizes how strange this situation must be for you already, without knowing his condition. “Vam. You can call me Vam,” he decides.

"Vam," you repeat, then share your name in return.

Your face is overcome with horror, but not at him. You're looking just over his shoulder, toward the woods. He turns to see what you’re looking at–who you’re looking at–Michael Myers, towering in a faded navy jumpsuit, mask and all.

“Mike,” Vamp acknowledges the enormous slasher, then turns back to you to explain, “He prob’ly just wants to help.”

You swallow and your eyes gaze over. You’re still staring over Vamp’s shoulder when Michael lifts up a big wrench. Your eyelashes flutter and your knees buckle under you.

“Oh, sweetheart-” Vamp lunges forward and catches you in his arms as you lose consciousness. “Oh boy,” he mutters to himself.

Michael is still standing there.

Vamp tells him, “Yeah–I’ll uh–you take care’a that, I’ll take care’a her.”

Michael gives a single slow nod, then goes to the stripped tire, tools in tow. Vamp holds you securely with one muscular arm, then the other, as he takes his cardigan off and wraps it around you. “There ya go,” he whispers to you in your sleep, then scoops you up. “I’ve got ya, sweetheart.”

It's not a short walk, and vamp does his best to ignore the beautiful scent wafting from your hand. He passes the front of the mansion and no one notices, they're all watching tv together. Something exciting. A couple of them are bickering. Others are glued to the screen. For a moment, vamp wonders if he's missing a watch party, but he's far more intrigued by you.

As the road winds around back and vamp nears the joel mansion’s basement, you wake up in his arms.

He feels your body tense as you lift your head up and ask, “Where am I?”

“My buddy's place, he’s a real good guy, we’ll get ya dry, and warm, get ya back to your car….”

He seems to carry you effortlessly. You can hardly take your eyes away from his face. He’s handsome and familiar. His eyes nearly glow. Is he real? Is any of this? You wrap your hands around his neck to get a better look. He presses his lips together and gives you a shy look, holding you, a stranger, in a bridal carry with his handkerchief wrapped around your sliced hand and his cardigan wrapped around your body. Your hair has gotten misty in the fog and drizzle, and so has his.

“Who are you?” you ask.

He exhales through pursed lips before answering, "I'm Vam, remember?”

Your eyelashes flutter heavily again.

“Hey, you’re okay, sweetheart” he reassures you. “You’re okay.”

In lieu of knocking at the basement door, Joel taps it with his boot a few times. “N-dub,” he whispers, not wanting to disturb you.

As the door opens, a man is saying, “No more edibles, man. You gotta…” but his voice trails off when he sees you in Vamp’s arms, wrapped up in the cardigan. He’s speechless. He steps out of the way.

He’s handsome, too. You’re in a daze, but god, he's good looking, and he's got this vibe, you can tell that much. He has a joint behind his ear and his eyes are slightly glassy. The place smells of weed with a hint of patchouli and shaving cream.

“Shit, man. Where’d you take her from?” the basement owner asks.

“SHH!” Vamp responds. “I didn’t take her. She was stranded in the rain.”

“She okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer for yourself.

“Michael scared her,” Vamp explains.

“Well shit, guess we’ve all been there,” the man with the vibe says and closes the door behind you.

You feel strangely at ease in the basement. It feels familiar, like a place you’ve been in your dreams or fantasies, but hadn’t fully visualized. At the same time, it feels foreign, like it’s a familiar place in a strange location. A little darker, maybe. A little off. But still, the strong sense that you belong somehow.

Vamp sets you down in an easy chair and they both stand there looking at you, then each other.

The pothead steps forward and squats next to the chair to have a better look. He gently nudges your chin to look toward him, and keeps his hand there. His eyes soften and he bites half his bottom lip as he admires your features, then says, “Well, god damn. . .” Then, as his hand leaves your face, his forearm brushes the cardigan and he feels the light misting of rain on it. “Let’s get you dry,” he offers, and nudges the cardigan open.

Hunger overtakes his face as he catches a glimpse of your body in your rain-soaked clothes. He doesn’t bother averting his eyes from your tits until you accidentally cough.

Vamp reacts, “we gotta hurry, she's getting sick,” and goes to check the closet. “Where are all your clothes?” he asks his best friend.

“Laundry day,” the basement dweller answers. “Shit.”

You ask, “You got a robe or something?”

“Uh, yeah,” he retreats to his bathroom.

Vamp takes the opportunity to discreetly tell you, “Hey, I think he’s kinda into you. So if he makes you uncomfortable at all…”

“I can handle it,” you smile, and you get butterflies at the thought. “What’d you call him? Indub?” you ask.

Vamp chuckles. “That's just his initials. It's Night walks,” vamp answers.

“First name ‘knight’?”

“No you say it like one word, nightwalks.”

“Nightwalks and Vam, huh?”

Vamp nods, then asks, “You want a bath to warm up?”

“Uhhh… I am kinda chilly, yeah”

He calls over to the bathroom, “Hey nightwalks? Draw her a bath while you’re in there.”

“Do what to the bath?” night walks laughs at the old fashioned term.

“Run a bath, man. C’mon.”

The water starts, and night walks emerges holding a silk, leopard print robe. He lets it hang over his muscular shoulder as he kneels to take your shoes and socks off.

Vamp leaves to attend to the bath.

You giggle and flinch as your second sock is pulled off.

“Ticklish?” Night walks smiles, eyebrows up.

You shrug demurely.

He prowls up the lazy chair hovering over you, then kinda hugs you, hooking one strong arm under your back. “Let’s get you outta this,” he murmurs.

You stand, and he helps for balance to make sure you’re not too dizzy.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, and he lets you stand on your own two feet.

He nudges the cardigan off your shoulders and it falls behind you. His eyes scan your body then meet your eyes again. You rub your lips together trying not to flirt with him, but there’s a cheeky sparkle behind your eyes. There’s something darker but equally charming behind his.

And there’s a calming energy that seems to waft from him to you. Comfort and desire is thick in the air.

He begins to take your clothes off, slow and intimate as if he doesn’t know how to do it any other way. His warm hands glide over your hips and up your sides as he lifts your thin, wet shirt.

He lets you keep on the undershirt for now. Not that it makes much of a difference.

He stares at your tits, nipples blazing through the damp, thin undershirt. No bra.

“Freeballin’,” he nods in approval. “My kinda’ girl.”

You can’t help but giggle at that.

He adjusts himself, making your loins buzz, then he kneels to unbutton your jeans. As he takes down the zipper, your face heats up as you remember the panties you’re wearing - they’re printed with a she-devil whose tail points down to your cunt.

“Oohh,” He coos nearly under his breath, “We got a bad girl here.”

You cringe at yourself and mutter, “oh, god,”

He looks up and doesn’t laugh. “My kinda girl,” he repeats, locking eyes with yours.

As he takes your pants down, his hands glide down and around your hips and linger on your ass for a squeeze. “God damn,” he whispers.

Once your pants are off, for the first time, he notices the bloody handkerchief in your hand. It had been tighter in the clutches of your fist before.

“Oh, shit,” he comments. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little cut,” you answer and glance at it to check. “It's fine, it stopped bleeding.”

He takes the handkerchief from you and discards it on the chair. He inspects your palm. “I dunno if I got any first aid shit,” he mutters to himself.

“It’s fine, really,” you reassure him. He holds your hand, inspecting your palm, then looks at your face again. His eyes fall on your mouth and he seems to forget what he was thinking about. He wets his lips. “God damn, you’re hot,” he murmurs.

“Thanks,” you whisper, thinking the same about him.

He laces his fingers with yours as he steps even closer, then he brings his hands to your waist.

Your head tilts upward, watching him look back and forth between your eyes.

He leans in and your lips meet.

There’s a spark, more of a spark than you’ve ever felt, and he must feel it, too. He slips his tongue into your mouth as his hand meanders and grabs your ass. “Mm,” he hums into your mouth. You put your arms around his neck and he pulls you against him. A warm bulge throbs against you, making you moan into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss to murmur, “There’s my bad girl,” then he kisses you again and crosses his hands behind your back to take off your undershirt.

He takes a long, deep breath as he looks at your tits, then urgently pulls you up against him again, one hand cradling your head as he feeds you his tongue

He grinds against you as you kiss, and your fingers lift the back of his shirt. He takes it off, breathing heavily, then says, “c’mere, baby.” His lips attack your neck as his thumbs hook into your panties and pull them down below your ass cheeks. He gives you a little spank then groans into your neck.

Fuck, he's hot.

His palm slides down your crack and between your legs until his middle finger can feel your dripping hole. “Hell yeah,” he breathes against your neck as he reaches further. Then he breaks away from your neck and wedges his other hand in between the two of you to finger you from the front. The hand in the back palms a cheek, fingers spanning quite a distance on your skin.

He rubs you from the front and you moan. “Yeah, that's right, sugar.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head slightly upward as he touches you, letting himself get absorbed entirely by the feeling of you in his hands.

You're hypnotized by the veins on his neck and the rhythm of his fingers through your slick.

The way he touches you, it’s like he knows exactly what you like. And his hands, they feel so…

“Oh, daddy,” the word slips from your lips and he replies, “Mmm,” and looks down to observe your face of pleasure. He grinds himself against your hip as he fingers you just the way you like. Like he'd done it dozens of times before - to you.

“Yeah, cum for daddy,” he breathes then nudges your forehead with his nose, prompting you to lift your chin for his lips to take yours again.

He moans into your mouth, the shape of his cock stiff against your hip through his PJs, his hand between your legs, and one on your ass.

As his fingers push you over the edge, you break away to moan, then stifle it in his bare shoulder, gently biting.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “fuck yeah.”

You cum in the palm of his hand, and he moans.

“Attagirl,” he breathes, “fuck.”

He shudders and groans, then his hard-on throbs against you and a warm, wet spot spreads through his PJ pants.

“Damn,” he mutters.

A short sigh comes from behind you.

“Hey “ Night walks greets vamp matter of factly as he catches his breath. He looks vamp up and down and vamp casually covers his crotch, prompting a smirk from night walks.

Vamp clears his throat, “Bath’s ready.”

“Thanks,” night walks says. “Now I need one too,” he chuckles, then turns his attention back to you. “You’re real damn hot, you know that?”

He kisses you gently on the mouth then says, “finish this later,” with a wink. He pulls your soaked panties from your thighs down to your feet and helps you into the silk robe.

You make your way into the bathroom and Vamp lingers in the living room with night walks. Never judging, he’s simply raising his eyebrows in a question - how did that happen?

“Just happened, man,” night walks says, then squints. “She familiar to you?”

“Uh, YEAH,” vamp agrees. “Smells familiar.”

Night walks sucks his slick fingers and says, "Tastes familiar."

“Nice bathroom,” you announce, and both men file into the room to see if you need anything. “Never seen a bathtub this big,” you add, stretching out your arms, tits on display.

Night walks takes the opportunity to ask, “Want some company?”

“Sure,” you smile, and he takes down his pj pants.

“Room for three?” night walks asks on behalf of his buddy.

“Yeah,” you agree.

Night walks asks, “You wanna be sandwiched or wanna look at his pretty face?” He can’t let vamp sit behind you. Too much neck access.

“I’ll take the extra body heat,” you answer with a flash of your eyebrows.

Night walks gets in the bath behind you and settles his legs outside yours. You can feel all of him against your back. He sneaks in a squeeze of both tits as vamp prepares to get in front of you.

Vamp is a solidly built man. Not in a distinctly muscular way. A little softer than night walks, but he’s just so broad. His back flexes as he gets into the tub and rests back on you. His hair smells nice. And your tits feel amazing against his back.

Sandwiched between them, you feel their breathing. You just sit and feel it for you don’t know how long. Your breathing synchronizes. All three of you.

You’re almost lulled asleep--maybe you even are asleep-- until vamp gasps softly.

You look down to see a faint red plume coming from your hand.

“Oh, crap,” you react.

“He can take care’a it,” Night walks murmurs, sounding half asleep. “He’s got ya.”

“How?” you ask.

“Kiss it better, man,” night walks encourages, then sighs with how comfortable he is with you nestled between his legs, laid back on his chest. He gets a waft of your hair and sighs, “Mm.”

“You gonna kiss it better?” you ask vamp with a giggle.

“Sure, I can if ya want,” he offers and holds your wrist. He plants a kiss on the lower end of your wound, letting his lips linger long enough to inhale as much of your scent his nostrils can get.

It’s not just a kiss. To the naked eye, it’s just a kiss, but it feels like more. It feels like healing. It feels almost like...pleasure. He takes his lips away and the part he kissed is no longer bleeding.

“Whoa,” you whisper.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Night walks mutters over your ear.

“You want more?” vamp asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. No brainer.

Night walks takes your un-injured hand around to vamp’s abdomen and rests it on vamp’s thick, semi-hard, uncut cock. The shape under your hand sends a pang of desire down your spine and between your legs.

“might lose a little blood,” vamp warns. “But not much.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses your wound again, starting at the top and sliding his lips all the way down it. Then he shifts his lips a bit, and something smooth begins to slowly trace the cut as his lips slide back up the wound. You feel a suction along the cut, and at the same time, his cock stiffens under your palm. You reflexively palm his shaft, holding it against his stomach.

The suction in your palm feels good. Your nipples harden and a rush of pleasure shoots down your chest, then lower.

“Oh, god,” you whisper.

When he reaches the top of the cut, his lips break away with a moan, as you continue to massage him. “More?” he asks breathily.

You nod, “please.”

He repeats the process, ever so slowly, twice. . .and you go from massaging his cock to pumping it, until he’s coming against his stomach underwater, moaning into your hand.

When night walks slips his hand between you and vamp, you realize your hips have been moving, seeking pressure. Night walks finishes you off, and God, you cum hard.

Night walks’s dick is hard against your back, and you’d love to do something for him, but you’re utterly spent. Your palm looks good as new, and you can hardly keep your eyes open. Vamp twists his torso to look back and check in on you. He idly tongues his sharp incisor.

You look at him, eyelashes fluttering and say, “You’re….” He closes his lips and swallows, and he looks away, expecting you to say that word he doesn’t like. But you don’t. . . “Special,” you say, making his heart swell.

“You too,” he whispers as your eyelids fall shut.

Your head lulls back against night walks and he asks vamp, “she okay?”

“Yeah,” vamp answers. “Most people can’t process that kind of pleasure their first time.”

“That’s why she’s passed out? God damn,” night walks says. “We’re the dream team, buddy.”

“Let’s get her to bed,” Vamp says.

—-

“This is all good, right?” vamp asks night walks as they get you situated nude in the bed. All three of you are dried off.

“Yeah, bud,” night walks reassures vamp in a whisper. “We’ve got a duty to act.”

“That’s doctors,” vamp replies, then lowers his whisper more. “Not….men of the night.”

“Shhh,” night walks replies. "we gotta keep her warm."

You stir and let out a sigh. Vamp is wearing silky shorts and night walks is in fresh boxer briefs.

They settle in on either side of you. After a minute, vamp whispers, “hey, n-dub?”

“Yeah?”

“Is she really familiar to you?”

“Yeah,” night walks answers unequivocally.

“Me too,” vamp agrees. “I think she–”

“Let’s talk about it later,” night walks whispers.

“Yeah,” vamp agrees.

“Get some sleep, man,” night walks encourages.

Vamp starts to respond, “I…” then doesn’t bother. “Yeah.”

“Oh. Sorry, bud.”

“It’s okay,” vamp says, then asks, “but hey, if I go in my restful state, will you rouse me if you're gonna fuck her?”

“I think you'll be ‘roused,” night walks chuckles. “But sure, buddy.”

Vamp gets up on his elbow, then hovers over your face. strokes your cheek and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Sweet dreams,” he whispers.

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I sincerely hope y'all enjoyed this as much as I did 💕. Ty kate for the prompt that kinda led me to write a comfort fic for myself too lol.

Note: in English, "woman of the night" is a tame or old fashioned way of saying female sex worker

#brothel sleepover 💕#vampire!joel #night walks!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#cw daddy kink

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