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hisui-dreamer · 1 year ago

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we are one

Characters: Trey, Ruggie, Rook, Sebek

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions

Word count: 4.5k+

Notes: im sorry this took so long lol, but part 4 is finally here!!

Part 1✧Part 2✧Part 3✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Shizuka (靜菓) with 静 meaning "quiet, still, calm" and 菓 meaning "confectionery, sweets, pastry"

your daughter had silky green hair the colour of fresh matcha and golden yellow eyes that were reminiscent of fresh honey

you named your daughter after her father's dislike of noise and his culinary abilities that never failed to amaze the whole of Heartslabyul

she's rather a quiet child, not very loud but too quiet either

she gets along with other kids perfectly fine, and she doesn't mind sharing or taking a step back at all, always choosing to go with the flow and not get worked up over small things

honestly she's really a mature kid

also just really good at being a peacekeeper and stopping other kids from getting into big fights

buut she does have a mischievous side and may tease her friends when she's in the mood to

at home, she's pretty obedient and will listen to you, but there are moments when she sneaks around

loves helping you with cooking, and her eyes sparkle when she's baking with you

she loves sweets and desserts, but thanks to your warnings about her dental health, she does stop herself from eating too much sugar

is slightly freaked out about cavities so don't you worry, she'll never need any reminding about brushing her teeth or late night snacks

when it comes to school, she doesn't put in too much effort, but you can tell she'd be excellent if she cared more about her grades

which is clearly shown when fixates on learning magic, always so focused that you'll have to call her twice before she snaps out of her trance

you can't blame her for giving it her all though, after all, you've never seen her more excited than when you told her how amazing a person her father is, calm and soothing like a gentle summer rain

once she puts her heart to it, there's really no stopping her

so on another normal evening, as you were cooking dinner while she was studying on the kitchen counter, you found yourself enveloped by a soft light

when you open your eyes, you find yourself standing outside a charming bakery, the fragrance of roses engulfing your senses

and peering through the bakery windows, was the man you had yearned for all these years

It was just a normal day of running the bakery for Trey. With the sun on the verge of setting, he began preparations for closing, when the soft chime of the bell announced a new customer's arrival. He turned around, catching sight of you. His eyes widened in surprise, mirroring the disbelief in your own.

Before words could be exchanged, Trey rushed past the counter. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you as he pulled you close. The years melted away, and the two of you were transported back to a time when you always had each other.

"Is this real?" he wondered aloud, your hearts pounding in sync.

You nodded into his shoulder, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. He pulled back slightly, brushing away your tears as his gaze softened, a warm smile gracing his lips.

"It's been a long time," he whispered. "I missed you so much."

he's just holding you tight, crying as he thanks the heavens for being so lucky to have you in his life again

trey returned to his hometown after graduation, helping out and eventually inheriting the family bakery

he loved incorporating your favourite foods into the store's selection, adding some new desserts from your world that you taught him, and always reminiscing on those tender moments when it was just the two of you in the kitchen

he always knew you had to go home eventually, but that didn't stop him from wishing you could be his life-long partner, supporting each other through thick and thin

so he's beyond grateful and excited to know you and his daughter(?!) shared the feelings even though you were apart

he's rather surprised about said daughter, but there would be no denying how similar they looked

shizuka is a bit nervous, tugging your skirt as she stares curiously at her supposed father

but Trey very quickly makes her feel at home, his warm smiles and even warmer hugs melting away all her nervousness!

he closes the bakery for a few days to help the two of you settle down a bit

this involves reunions with friends and of course, the clover family, who welcome you and their granddaughter with open arms

the clovers are just really really glad their son finally has someone in his life and that he seems a lot more energised now

Shizuka is very quickly introduced to uncle riddle!! who is very surprised but delighted by the behaving little girl who seems to stick to him a lot

uncle deuce and ace also get along with her wonderfully!! especially when Shizuka wants to play around with riddle for a bit hahaha

don't forget uncle cater who flies instantly to meet his new adorable niece and show her off on magicam!!

the three of you settle into a nice rhythm and you help out trey at the bakery now

Trey is very very affectionate with you always, pecking you on the cheek or nuzzling into your neck any chance he can get

Shizuka loves helping out whenever she can too!! she loves learning from her papa and sometimes will just spend hours watching him work

all in all, a blissful, simple family that Trey had always dreamed of, but never would he have believed he was so blessed to have the two of you come back to him

Trey gazed at the young girl, her silky green hair catching the light in a way that seemed surreal. With a heart full of emotions, he approached her hesitantly, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"Shizuka, was it?" he spoke softly, the name lingering on his lips like a prayer. "It's so nice to meet you."

Shizuka's gaze flickered from Trey to you, seeking reassurance. With a gentle nod from you, she turned her attention back to him, her eyes studying him intently.

Trey knelt to her level, his heart racing. "I know this might be a lot to take in, but I'm your father."

She took a small step forward, cautious but curious. Trey extended his hand tentatively, offering a warm smile. Without a word, Shizuka reached out, placing her small hand in his.

A soft smile graced her lips, mirroring the warmth reflected in Trey's eyes. With a tentative but genuine embrace, Trey enveloped his daughter in his arms, tears cascading down his cheeks. Shizuka, feeling the sincerity in his embrace, wrapped her arms around him as well, a sense of belonging beginning to bloom within her.

Kenji (賢至) with 賢 meaning "intelligence, wisdom, cleverness" and 至 meaning "to arrive at, to reach, to come to"

your son had the softest hair the colour of wheat, and blue eyes that reminded you of cloudy skies

you named your son after how clever his father was, and his endless determination to reach his goals

he's a really sweet kid, always eager to help around and even others when he notices they're in need

you've heard about the many experiences his father had when he grew up, so you've tried your hardest to make sure Kenji wouldn't have to go through them, knowing it's what your hyena would've wanted

but even then, he's never complained about not having enough, there's a subtle wisdom to him that really mirrors his father

though he differs from him in that he's always willing to share, because he knows not everyone can be so lucky

he may not be too good at haggling prices, but his puppy dog eyes work just as well!

he loves doing chores with you, always smiling and laughing that familiar laugh as he helps you sweep the floor while he tells you about his day

he loves cuddles and kisses!!! his favourite part of the day is climbing into your warm bed to wrap his arms around you, asking you for a goodnight kiss and sometimes even bedtime stories

his ears and tails are a bit of a problem, so you keep his hair a bit long to hide the ears, or just say they're fun accessories

you've told him how his father's determination to support his family and community shined through even in unfortunate circumstances, the resourceful and intelligent man he became and you fell in love with

his blue-grey eyes almost resembled a clear sky when he listened to you, asking you more and more questions about this amazing person

he'll try learning more to be like him, but his kind nature stops him from being too schemey

he's not exactly academic weapon material, but he's pretty quick at absorbing information and putting it into practice

and with lots of determination and practice, he somehow manages to manifest the very thing the two of you wanted, and before your eyes was the man who never failed to make you laugh with him

As Ruggie's eyes adjusted, your figure slowly came into focus, revealing the very person who took his heart with them. "Prefect...?" He whispered, his voice a mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy.

His usually carefree expression shifted to one of disbelief, and then a bittersweet smile spread across his face as the tears welled up in his eyes. Without a second thought, he rushed towards you, sweeping you into a tight embrace.

"You're here... You're really here, right?" Ruggie mumbled, his voice choked with emotion.

You nodded furiously, comfort washing over you at his touch. "Yes, Ruggie, it's real. I'm really here."

His hand reached up to thread his fingers through your hair, cupping the back of your head. "I'm so glad... So, so glad..."

he's holding onto you as tightly as he can, so afraid that you'd disappear into the light if he let you loose for even a bit

after graduation, Ruggie followed leona to become his official attendant, what with him knowing how leona likes to get things done, and his ability to pick up etiquette cues

he's also a great information gatherer, so he's perfectly able to assist leona with his foreign affairs

it's leona's voice that finally breaks the two of you out of your trance, him rushing over to investigate that weird light

the two of you pull back and you almost wouldn't notice it, but leona's smile has softened a bit from the image you had in your memory

Ruggie never expected himself to be a father, and things are going a bit faster than he'd like, but there's no denying he's absolutely grateful to have you and your kid at his side

almost immediately the next day, he takes you back to his hometown so you and Kenji can meet grandma and the neighbourhood

grandma bucchi welcomes the two of you so warmly, she even gets a little teary eyed when she sees Kenji, with him looking so similar to the very hyena she raised

leona and Ruggie delegate a room for you in the side palace, where they also live, so you'll be able to see familiar faces often

Kenji loves following his father around, picking up his mannerisms and wanting to learn more about being more schemey

Ruggie's a bit conflicted his angel of a son wants to learn his ways but even he can't deny those puppy dog eyes

uncle leona and guard jack also love spending time with him! though one of them pretends it's annoying

leona shows him magic tricks and jack will teach him how to fight! he'll be getting great lessons all around

Kenji is very eager to learn more and explore this world, so sometimes you'll have to hold him back a bit just in case he gets hurt

but you suppose with the splendid man his father is, you don't have to worry too much

Ruggie's schedule can be a bit hectic and he pulls a lot of late nights, but he always tries to make time for his family

they're the most precious thing to him in the entire world, did you think he'd let them go that easily?

"Dad!" Kenji exclaimed, darting over to grasp at the fabric of Ruggie's pants. "You're my dad, right?"

Ruggie blinked in disbelief, shifting his gaze towards you. "Is... Is he?" he asked, hope saturating his voice.

You affirmed with a nod, and Ruggie redirected his attention to Kenji. "Yeah... I'm your dad..."

Instantly, Kenji wrapped his arms around Ruggie's legs. "Yay! I've always wanted to meet you, Dad!"

Ruggie couldn't help but marvel in awe at the bundle of joy now clinging to his legs, realizing that this spirited kid was the product of your love.

Ayaka (斐佳) with 斐 meaning "elegance, beauty, grace" and 華 meaning "flower, splendour, brilliance"　

Ayato (斐斗) with 斐 meaning "elegance, beauty, grace" and 杜 meaning "forest, grove, woods"

maybe a part of you should have expected it, with how unpredictable your beloved hunter always has been, but you ended up having to raise twins

the two had luscious golden locks that rivalled sunlight and sharp green eyes akin to the forests in the summer

you named the two of them after their father's love for all things beauty and his love for forests and nature

the two are well-behaved children, though they can be surprisingly sneaky and mischievous

Ayaka is more outgoing and is always fascinated by the pretty things in her vicinity

while Ayato is more introverted and quiet, often silently following his younger sister and nodding along to her ramblings

he definitely appreciates beauty, but he's less vocal about it

and whereas Ayaka is more fascinated by gems and cute plushies, Ayato is more interested in nature, finding beauty in the moss, the trees and the insects

the siblings are just really really curious about the world and they love observing the little details, from catching beetles to keep as pets, to planting flowers they found on a hike

they really do reflect your hunter's wide range of appreciation

the twins love sticking to each other and they're rarely arguing

though they do fight a bit over who helped you more with chores or who you love more

they're very helpful and efficient, and though they may complain about not wanting to work because the other twin is lazing, they'll still get the job done

they love watching tv shows and dramas, often acting out scenes in the shows or in fairytales

and oh the way their eyes sparkled when you told the fascinating man their father was, a man who could control his own heartbeat, keep track of time so accurately, and with such incredible eyesight, who devoted himself to spreading joy and beauty

almost immediately they doubled their efforts in studying, wanting desperately to meet the man to learn his ways and see for themselves just how interesting he is

and just like that, the dazzling light gradually subsided, unveiling a world that you thought only existed in your dreams

you remember the villa, it's where he took you on vacation for the first, and supposedly last time

You hesitantly knocked on the weathered wooden door of the villa, the echoes of your anticipation mingling with the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. As the door creaked open, memories flooded back to the first time you entered this place with the man who had captured your heart.

Rook's usual stoic expression shifted, replaced by a mix of surprise and unspoken emotions. "Mon amour... You're really here," he murmured, his voice a tender whisper that hung in the air. Without uttering a single word, he enfolded you in an embrace, as though afraid you might slip away like a fleeting dream.

"I missed you so much," you whispered back the tears flowing freely now that you've felt as you savour the warmth of his touch and the comforting scent of his cologne.

He pulled back, soft brushes of his fingers wiping your tears, his eyes lingering on your face as if trying to capture the essence of the time that had passed. "I missed you too, so dearly..." he admitted as tears threatened to spill from his eyes, a rare vulnerability in his gaze.

this was the most emotion you'd seen from him, even when you said goodbye he kept a smile on his face

he's holding you so delicately, as if you were going to fade away if he applied just a bit more pressure

he's surprised by the children, but he instantly warms up to the idea!

he's remained a pursuer of beauty even after graduation, sponsoring artists while he makes a living through hunting and his film critique

he was taking a break in the family villa for old times sake, but it's almost as if the universe planned it all along

he's very affectionate with you, even more so than before, which you didn't even know was possible

always a warm hand on your waist, an occasional peck on your cheek, and every once in a while he'll feel the urge to pull you in for a hug

he tries to do everything for you so you don't even have to lift a finger, breakfast in bed, waking the children, even cooking and cleaning

he loves spending time with the twins!! teaching the two of them how to hunt and explore the forest safely

he'll show them pretty plants, and interesting fungi, all while explaining what properties they might have and whether or not they're poisonous

the twins are so fascinated by everything, their excitement and energy are seemingly endless

and who's a father to deny his children? he spoils them rotten

he also loves showing the kids a certain idol he's supported...

as well as films of vil!! occasionally talking over the movie to express how perfect a scene is or how flawless his acting is

and when the twins get to meet the vil schoenheit, they're beyond thrilled

asking questions, throwing compliments, all directed towards vil, but they're quiet the moment he tells them to shush

uncle vil loves talking to his niece and nephew, but only when they're... calm

uncle epel also loves popping by and giving the twins some apples so they'll get proper nutrition!

really, you'll have to step in to prevent your kids from being spoiled rotten

but you'll indulge Rook for a while, he's just blissfully happy with his family after all

"Are these...?" he began, his voice trailing off as he looked at the children with a mix of awe and wonder.

"Ours," you answered, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you delicately wiped away the tears that had welled up in your eyes. "Meet Ayato and Ayaka."

The hunter knelt down to their eye level, his usual face softening into a loving. "Ayato, Ayaka," he said, his voice gentle, "It's so nice to meet you. I'm your father."

The children exchanged glances before Ayaka stepped forward. "Hello father!" she exclaimed, throwing her tiny arms around him.

Ayato, the quieter one, followed suit with a nod, a shy smile on his face.

The hunter embraced them both, a warmth in his eyes that spoke volumes. "Such angels... Mon amour what a blessing you've granted me...," he sighed as he held them close.

Atsuki (惇貴) with 惇 meaning "sincerity, loyalty" and 貴 meaning "precious, valuable, honourable"　

your son had curly hair with the softest shade of light green, and piercing golden eyes with slits that reminded you of reptiles

you named your son after the chivalrous values his father had devoted his life to

he's a rather loud and excitable child, always forgetting to control his volume when he gets too emotional

doesn't really get along with other kids, but it doesn't affect him much, he's just happy to have his mama with him

if he's done something wrong, you don't even need to yell at him really, most of the time he's already holding back tears at the thought of disappointing you

very into sports and is also really good at several sports, he's earned a couple of medals and trophies already

he's not the best at magic, and you're also not too sure how his dark fae blood affects that, but he's still pretty good at making progress

he really is just a good kid who tries hard at everything and tries to make the right decisions, but he's quick to get disappointed when things don't go his way, and suddenly you're faced with a very familiar and endearing puppy dog face

so a lot of times, you'll just have to pull him in a hug, and remind him things almost never go the way we plan, and it's okay to accept defeat and learn from it

but there's nothing he's more motivated about than learning more about his dad, who in his mind, is an honourable, talented knight straight from the fairytales who devotes his life to protecting the people important to him

so much so, that you'll find him swinging around the toy sword you got him for training

he'll also start putting even more effort into learning magic, wanting to connect to his amazing papa in a way

and then on one night, you're not sure what triggered it, but he's incredibly emotional and crying about how he can't help you and you're always taking care of him and he just wants to have his dad in his life and it's all so unfair why his mama is alone and-

he starts emitting bright light, so bright you can't keep your eyes open, but you reach to hold him in your arms

when you no longer feel the bright light, you tentatively open your eyes, only to find yourself standing in the dark, spacious throne room of Briar Valley

and standing there, right next to the throne, was your knight in shining armour

Standing next to the grand throne, was your knight in shining armour, Sebek. He, along with Silver, stood in positions of defence, but the moment his eyes met yours, the mask of composure crumbled, and he rushed toward you with an urgency that mirrored the longing that had lingered in his heart during your separation.

He enveloped you in a fierce embrace, his arms securing you but also gentle to not hurt you with his armour.

"I thought... I thought I lost you," Sebek's voice was a shaky whisper against your ear, his grip on you tightening as if trying to confirm that you were indeed real.

"I'm here, Sebek. I found my way back," you reassured him, feeling the softness of his hair against your cheek.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he admitted, his words a whispered admission of the fears he had harboured, pressing his forehead gently to yours.

he's a mess the instant he sees you, and he melts completely when you're finally in his arms

malleus and silver are also immensely happy that you're back, calling lilia to join the family reunion

Sebek's pretty overwhelmed with your presence on its own, so silver and lilia have given him a gentle push to actually function and introduce himself to Atsuki

he's grown to be less awkward with his affection, and particularly with how long you've been away, he doesn't hold back too much

his hands are always inching closer to touch you, his forehead resting on your shoulder every once in a while, it's all really endearing

but his parenting style is a bit awkward

Atsuki really admires him, but that also makes him ever so slightly afraid of him

meanwhile, Sebek is nervous because he doesn't want to do anything that ruins the image of a perfect knight for his son

so they're a bit awkward, but with you as the middle person they can get along pretty well!

they bond over training, with Sebek teaching him sword fighting (with you reminding him not to push him too hard)

Atsuki also really enjoys sparing with uncle silver, who always lets him him, but Atsuki just wants him to fight for real, so it's just silver being "this is real??"

uncle malleus taking him out for gargoyle studies (Sebek is jealous lmao)

and of course, uncle lilia who cooks extremely nutritious meals that always end with Atsuki puppy dog eying you to save him

sebek's family is also very very happy to have you two!!

grandpa baul grumbles around a lot, but he keeps note of Atsuki's favourite foods to prepare them when he visits

also comments on his sword fighting and stance when he feels like it

mom and dad also adore you guys!! mrs. zigvolt loves giving you gifts and talking about sebek when he was younger haha

all in all, sebek's so incredibly grateful you could come back to him, and though he's still awkward with his affection sometimes, he'll never stop trying his best to love the both of you

Atsuki's eyes widened as he took in the sight of his father, the mythical figure he had only heard tales of until now.

Sebek's gaze shifted from you to Atsuki, and his breath caught. His eyes softened as he knelt down to be at eye level with the child who was undeniably his son. "Hello," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of joy and uncertainty. "I... I'm your father."

Atsuki's eyes flickered with a mixture of awe and excitement. "Papa?" he questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sebek nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to gently cup Atsuki's face. "Yes, little one. I'm your papa."

The room seemed to hold its breath as father and son locked eyes for the first time. Atsuki, still processing the enormity of the moment, broke into a wide, joyful smile. "Papa!" he exclaimed, launching himself into Sebek's arms.

Sebek, overwhelmed with emotion, held Atsuki close, a mix of laughter and tears escaping him. "I've missed so much, haven't I?" he murmured, his heart swelling with love for the son he never imagined to exist.

Part 1✧Part 2✧Part 3 ✧Masterlist

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#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #twisted wonderland trey #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader #twisted wonderland ruggie #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #twisted wonderland rook #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #twisted wonderland sebek

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cheralith · 2 months ago

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vogue (chapter two) — boss/fashion designer!geto suguru x reader ; REASONS

series synopsis ; even without much knowledge in the world of fashion, you decide that it's in your best interest to work for the country's fashion magazine powerhouse to propel your career as a journalist. however, you begin to second-guess your decision when you're faced with the grueling labor of its one and only editor-in-chief who expects nothing less of perfection. can your efficiency meet his standards or will you be out the door before you can even blink? masterlist

contains ; editor-in-chief!geto, fashion designer!geto, assistant!reader, assistant turned muse!reader, platonic roommate!ino, modern au, angst, slowburn, co-workers-to-lovers, some crack if you squint

chapter synopsis ; it's chaos at kaizen magazine and the entirety of its staff, including its editor-in-chief is stressed. you meet a particular individual at the coffeehouse who seems all too the familiar for some reason whose strange words encourage you to dabble in the world of modelling in a desperate moment.

chapter tags/warnings; she/her pronouns, afab!reader, blood mention (reader gets mild cut on finger), reader models but no mention of body descriptions, some parts not edited

chapter word count: 8.9k

now playing ; reasons - minnie riperton

↩ previous chapter next chapter ↪

Somehow, you think that your boss has it out for you more than usual this week. Granted, he’s been giving you a stink eye at all times since you first started, but you’re getting the gut feeling it’s more prominent this time around. Be it the upcoming charity gala tomorrow or the stress of pushing out this month’s issue due to some last minute… adjustments—you wouldn’t be surprised if Geto is using you as his punching bag for his own relief.

He has never yelled at you, per se, but his soft-spoken insults and scoldings hurt you far more than anything. Whether it be you stumbling ever so slightly over your own two feet in front of him or something as miniscule as simply accidentally taking out a pen that’s lacking ink when jotting notes, Geto always seems to have some sort of reprimand at the ready.

“Why is this packet stapled so awkwardly? You could be covering vital information.”

“Coffee spoons exist for a reason. There’s no reason why I should be using a dessert spoon for my latte.”

“I do wish you spoke with less ‘um’s and ‘uh’s every now and then. It’s quite bothersome.”

You just wish that the job application had listed “Must take on editor-in-chief’s emotional baggage 24/7.” if you knew that this job would just be mentally draining as it is physically. And to think it’s only been only around four and a half months since you’ve started! Obviously, being editor-in-chief of one of the largest and powerful magazines in the nation is going to be mentally depleting, but is there such a need to take it out on the poor associates?

Your mind reflects back to witnessing an intern accidentally running into Geto amidst last night’s crisis when the office was busy about attempting to piece together the issue into one piece before the publisher’s deadline today, the intern’s impact causing a confetti of cut-out paper to fly about everywhere and making Geto’s afternoon matcha pick-me-up splatter green all over his cream white top. He had gently told the shaking intern, amidst his many apologies, that it was no worries before quietly telling you to head down to HR to terminate him by the end of this week.

Chills run down your spine when you remember how quickly Geto’s smile faded and gentle eyes disappeared as they morphed into amethyst daggers the moment his back was turned to the intern. Though… you do give credit to the intern for making his shirt still somehow look fabulous with the earthy green splatter—a feat only a former fashion model was able to do.

You don’t remember when the last time you came home before 11:00pm was or when was the last time you ate three complete meals in a day and not just crumbs of convenience store snacks. It’s been such a hectic week wrapping up the month’s issue that you’re suddenly back to your college days slurping ramen and drinking any drink that contains any amount of caffeine to give back your energy.

You hear the beep of the microwave sing through the kitchen right next to yours and Manami’s desks, signaling your instant ramen was done, but before you can even get up, you hear the muffled sound of a something being broken inside Geto’s office, causing you and Manami to jump. Gazes suddenly flicking toward each other, with neither of you daring to make another move, a moment of complete silence drifts by before you dare to breathe out ever so quietly and almost instantaneously, Manami shouts, “Not it!”

“Not—oh, fine…” A groan drags out of you and your eyes roll as you brush off the prideful look Manami has on her face.

With great hesitation, you avert your direction to the frosted glass window of Geto’s office that sits a little too politely between you and Manami’s desks. Somehow, with each step you take, the impending doom that sits at the bottom of your churning stomach grows bigger and bigger and you can just barely brace yourself for the scolding that you’re about to receive—even if the cause of Geto’s frustration may have not even been at your own fault.

Your shaking knuckles go to rap at his door. A grumbled “come in” barely seeps its way through the door. You allow yourself with great reluctance to open the door to reveal a heavily breathing Geto Suguru, veins visible on his neck and forehead from the pent-up irritation that has been boiling for the past few days with the double whammy of the charity gala and the month’s issue attempting to be push out on time, which may not even be the case given that many columns had to be changed due to a specific supermodel’s recent scandal.

Upon entering your boss’s office, it was near impossible to miss the shattered glass of cucumber water that was clearly thrown at the wall behind himself, a splotch of the carpet now darkened slightly from the original color. Geto caved inwards towards his desk, his blazer from his three-piece set now draped messily over his chair and his usually neatly-made hair a little more frazzled out of its hair band than usual. On his desk were an array of magazine splits with a pile of cut-outs dedicated to said model. It startles you how many pages she had appeared in given how hefty the pile was.

“Why couldn’t she behave after the issue was printed…” Geto seethes under his breath as a poor page of the magazine draft crumples under his grip.

You can see in his trash can the tabloid that featured the supermodel, who allegedly slandered her fellow upcoming star of a colleague backstage of a recent fashion show with the cameras still rolling in order to document the behind the scenes of all the glitz and glamour. While it was normal for models to shade one another to fight for the spotlight, her remarks in particular were rather nasty and brutish, so much so that it caused outrage amongst the public and with the latter supermodel’s fans who ended up revealing her rather… dishonorable social media presence.

Needless to say, having her as the starlight of this month’s issue before it entered the public eye would prove disastrous for Kaizen. She decorated a large portion of the magazine from front cover to back, but the magazine couldn’t afford to have such a trashy person as their graphic ambassador—especially since there has been little to no dirt on the magazine up until now. Geto works hard to make sure any possible slander against the magazine was dealt with as soon as possible before the public could hear about it. You didn’t know how—preferably, you don’t want to know—but he does it somehow.

But the news and the outrage regarding the supermodel had been leaked only a mere eight days before the issue was to be printed, giving the entire department only eight days to fix up the issue before the deadline. To make matters worse—the issue had to be sent to the publisher before the charity gala, which were both on the same day, Friday, meaning that everything had to be finalized before 3pm that day to give ample time for the start of the gala’s last-minute organization at 5:00pm before it started at 7:30pm and for the publishing company to print the thousands of copies to be released to the city come Saturday morning.

It’s Thursday, the day before D-Day, and the office just reached noon. You have yet to eat properly, given that all you ate this morning amidst the morning rush (Geto demanded asked you to arrive at the office an hour earlier to compose the most time to work on the issue) were two pieces of toasted bread and a badly-made cup of instant coffee.

You stare at the broken crystal on the dampened floor before going back to get the dustpan from the kitchen. Without a word, you clean up the remnants of Geto’s frustration quietly so as to not poke the beast even further with one wrong move, but of course, you somehow end up slicing your finger on a stray piece of glass.

A loud yelp from your lips slips through the tight atmosphere of Geto’s office and blood draws fast, so fast that a few drops of crimson fall and miserably stain the pristine white carpet.

You swiftly poke your finger in your mouth and suck on it before more can ooze out, but unfortunately, your little titter was enough to break Geto out of his trance and snap his head back towards you. He spots the splotches of red on his carpet first, but then averts his gaze to you with your fingertip between your lips.

“What happened?” he urges as he approaches you. “Did you cut yourself?”

You nod shyly, a little startled at how quickly his concern for you came to him given that your presence usually arises some sort of mild vex from him. “I apologize for staining the carpet. I’ll get a cleaner right away for it.”

“No need,” Geto mutters before beginning the dust the glass remnants himself. “I’ll call them myself. Just fix yourself up. First-aid kit is in the kitchen. Go get a bandaid—quickly.”

For a split second, you swear you could’ve seen a grain of sympathy in his normally-cold gaze, but the illusion quickly dissipates the moment you see his eyes harden again before he snaps at you for staring.

“Go now. Before your finger gets infected. You can’t use your hand properly with an infected finger.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you nod lightly and dash out of his office, fighting horribly the urge to mutter curses at him under your breath.

The cut proves rather long and deep, you notice, as Manami gently rolls a strip of tape down a page of gauze on it as she chides you akin to a mother to take care of yourself properly and that this isn’t the week to be injuring yourself like a child. It takes up at least two-thirds of your right index finger and you’re just hoping you’ll be able to use your right hand as efficiently as possible given you still have an extensive list of emails to still send out.

Two hours somehow pass by quicker than expected but you know that your actual day isn’t even halfway done, knowing well that you won’t be clocking out until later in the evening after everyone is gone from the office. For the most part, it looks as though some spare stock images of well-known models were able to suffice the pieces that the scandalous one left them in the columns, but there was one that needed a more specific set of poses given that it was a perfume ad and unlike the other columns, the bottle had to be held in a certain manner that would prove hard for the photo editors to attempt.

Given that the work day was ending, there weren’t many models on-call that could do a last-minute shoot on time and the magazine was running out of time. Geto… was running out of time.

And if Geto, who was known for being rather cool-headed and rational most days, was stressed, that only meant the rest of the office had to follow—whether they liked it or not. Ultimately, his stress became infectious and it was hard to keep a mellow mind in the days filled with chaos. You were already stressed on a day-to-day basis being his junior assistant, but you were basically required to amp it up to the max with the last-minute editing of the magazine and the charity gala.

You’re in line to get Geto’s afternoon pick-me-up, with the minor adjustment of two extra espresso shots for the kick of caffeine to get him through the rest of the working hours. You can hear your name being called up, but with how drained you’ve been from the past few days, the granola bar and Redbull you had for lunch today proves not to be the most efficient source of energy and you end up tumbling over your own two wobbling legs when you rise from the waiting bench.

You crash into the chest of someone taller than you who was passing by and just barely manage to avoid the escaping coffee from the cup of the person you bumped into. Unfortunately, it doesn’t prove well for the latter, as the remainder of the coffee settles itself on the front of their shirt Panic sets in swiftly and you start bumbling apologies left and right before you can even look up to see who exactly you’re apologizing to.

When you do, you’re met with a pair of eyes hidden behind darkened sunglasses ogling at you. It struck you as rather odd—considering it was the middle of winter and that the sun was hiding behind the grayed clouds today. Maybe it was just some sort of fashion statement?

But it’s not the glasses that captivate you. It’s the snowy locks of white hair that belong to a rather tall and leggy figure that belong to it. And despite the pure ivory, he still looks incredibly young. A man of at least six feet and three inches stands before you—a height that easily can rival your boss’s. He’s adorned in a simplistic outfit; black dress shoes with matching slacks held by a glimmering silver buckle, topped with a cool white collared shirt that’s now evidently ruined by the horribly large light brown stain you caused from his coffee.

And judging by the stitching and material of the shirt, you know damn well that the shirt isn’t cheap.

“I-I-I…” you blubber out, teary eyes widened in horror at how fast the stain spreads and how much attention you’re getting from the cafe’s customers. “I’m so sorry…”

The silence that penetrates through from onlookers is terrible and you think you’re getting a fever from how hot your face is burning up.

Thankfully, the man breaks through it with a soft, (dare you say—handsome?) laugh. “I was looking for an excuse to get rid of this shirt anyways,” he says. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

What he says baffles you and your apologies suddenly transform into sounds of confusion to his amusement. “Huh?”

“It’s been two years since it was in season, it’s finally time to throw the old girl out,” the man shrugs nonchalantly.

Suddenly, in front of all the leering eyes of the customers in the coffeehouse, he begins to unbutton his stained shirt and you can only watch in horror with the rest of everyone else. While he still did have one last modest garment beneath the shirt, it was still a sleeveless white undershirt that showed off his visibly sculpted and lean biceps that made a couple of the women in the coffeeshop form heart eyes and bite their lips.

The man flickered his eyes, now shown to be a brilliant shade of crystal blue, to you from atop his glasses and a glint of playfulness shone through, along with a whimsical grin. “Maybe I should’ve been a little more decent. Hope you don’t mind.”

You think that the heat that flushes your cheeks is no longer from embarrassment but… bashfulness?

You attempt to gather what to say in this rather awkward moment, but the bell of the entrance door rings and in comes a young man with spiked noir locks adorned in a midnight blue suit with a visible frown on his face. His eyes skitter through the coffeehouse before landing on not exactly you… but the man before you.

“What the hell Gojo?” the young man scolds as he stomps his way over. “You said you weren’t gonna take long, so why are you stripping in a cafe?”

Gojo… why does that name sound so familiar for some reason? Now that you think about it, the entirety of the man himself seems so vaguely familiar, but you swore you’ve never seen such a unique human being before in real life.

The man turns his head over as he crumples the stain garment in his hands. He perks up in delight at the sight of him, contrary to his furrowed-brow companion. “Megumi! Sorry bud, got wrapped up in a little accident here. Take this and chuck it in the trash, will ya?”

Before “Megumi” can protest, “Gojo” tosses the shirt to him and exclaims for the onlooking baristas to make him another drink if they can. A teenage girl nods excitedly and dashes back to gather the order for the handsome, sleeveless stranger.

Megumi hisses an annoyed insult under his breath before glaring one last time at the taller man and searching for a nearby trash can. The man turns to you again with the same smile that has a lick of mischief to it. “Sorry ‘bout my intern. He’s usually a little sour, so don’t mind him. You okay though?”

“Uh…” your eyes glance around and notice that the commotion in the coffeehouse has started up again. “Yes, thank you. I apologize again for not watching my step.”

He chuckles. “I think you’ve apologized enough. Again, don’t worry about it—it was an old shirt anyways. Has anyone told you you’re quite cute?”

You choke on your saliva. What an odd thing to say in such a moment.

“Wh-what?” you stifle out.

“You’re rather pretty,” the man continues, the same grin still plastered on his face; as if he means every word he says. “Have you modelled before?”

Your jaw is somehow melded into an image that replicates a gaping fish. Somehow, you can’t find the correct words to say at this moment. And it’s not quite like you’ve never been flirted with before, but for some reason, the way that this “Gojo” says it, it doesn’t quite have that tone of flattery, but more like… offering something?

“Thank you?” you say with half-confidence. “And no… sorry.”

“Ah, what a shame,” he sighs wholeheartedly. “Have you considered it though?”

You shake your head, and you’re appalled that the gesture only makes his eyes light up again and his smile grow wider.

“You should try it someday! You know what—hold on. Where’s my wallet?”

The man shoves his hands in his pants pockets to attempt to look for it, but the intern from earlier suddenly appears and shows off his phone to his senior. It visibly reads 2:34 pm.

“The meeting started,” the intern seethes. “We’re late… again.”

“Oh shoot,” the tall man snaps his fingers with pursed lips. “Alright, we can get going soon. But can you do me a favor and get my wal—”

The intern glowers at him. “No. Let’s go.”

You’re surprised at how much guts the intern has, who seems to be rather younger than you by a few years and certainly significantly younger than the man before you, considering he’s the one to command his superior so strictly. Usually, it’s the other way around, is it not? Unless you’re doing something wrong?

“Aw, but—”

“Gojo. If we’re late again, the board of trustees might kick you off, remember?” Megumi says as he pinches the back of his superior’s undershirt and begins to drag him away from you.

The mysterious man pouts childishly and whines. “Ohhh c’mon! They’re not serious! You know those old geezers are practically terrified of me!”

You’ve never seen such a grown man act rather foolishly before, but you suppose there’s a first time for everything. As you watch him be dragged away by the intern, he salutes a goodbye to you with an all-knowing wink to finish things off before he’s shoved into a black Cadillac in nothing but his undershirt for a top amidst the chilly winter air.

As you attempt to process what on earth just happened, the young teenage barista calls at you suddenly.

“Hey! Did that Michizane Sugawara guy leave? The one with the white hair?” she asks you, pointing to her own brown hair. She holds what looks to be milk with a hint of coffee in it, judging by how there’s just barely a tint of brown in the plastic cup.

“Oh… him.”

Wasn’t his name Gojo? There’s no way you could’ve misheard “Michizane Sugawara” as “Gojo” you think, with the six other syllables just simply flying in from the window out of nowhere. Unless the fatigue has finally caught up to you and you’re hearing things wonky.

“Yeah. It seemed like he was in a rush of sorts.”

The barista leans over the counter to see and eventually shrugs. She pushes two cups towards you—your original coffee for Geto you nearly forgot about and the newly-made coffee for the mystery man. “You can just have it then. Not too sure you’ll like it though, it’s pretty sugary, but I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Your eyebrows perk up. With how much suffering you’ve been enduring lately from your work, you might as well indulge yourself in a sweet treat as you think you’ve earned it. Plus, with how much there is more to complete for today, you’re most definitely going to need the caffeine and the communal coffee pot isn’t exactly acquired for your tastebuds.

When you finally settle yourself down back in the comfort of your desk after the coffeehouse fiasco, you take a soft sip of the free coffee…

… only to pull a face at how ridiculously sweet it is. The barista was right. You think that there’s probably only a drop of coffee in the entire cup melded with milk and a variety of syrups and sugar. And to think this was for a grown man?

Sighing miserably, you pour the free drink down the kitchen drain, ignoring the glob of sugar that slugs out of it before you return back to misery.

“And there’s absolutely no models left that are in proximity to us? In any of our partnering agencies?” Geto asks as he rubs his temple.

The head of the PR team shakes his head, ashamed. “All of our current models are either abroad or they’re simply unavailable as of this moment.”

He mutters to himself before gritting his teeth. “And did you try bribing them with additional pay?”

“We tried, sir,” the head says. “And with other compensation like a guaranteed column for next month’s column or brand partnerships, but they wouldn’t budge.”

Geto sighs loudly and slides a hand down his face in exasperation, fatigue visible. It’s currently 5:51pm and the magazine has yet to find a model to try and replace the perfume advertisement. The partnering modelling firms had absolutely no models to offer at the last minute and it was too late to try and get in contact with freelance models considering communication with them proved much more difficult than those in agencies.

“What about recycling an older ad with a similar posed model and just photoshopping the fragrances out?” Geto suggests.

It gets shot down immediately to his dismay. “Unfortunately, that’d be violating some copyright issues.”

You watch with fidgety hands as you stand next to Manami as your boss and the PR team examines the idea board carefully, trying ways to fill in the missing column. Of course, you could chime in with your own ideas, but with how stressed Geto is currently, you didn’t want to risk adding fuel to an already violent fire.

Geto’s eyes scan the board left to right, taking in every single piece pinned onto it for some sort of genius idea, but nothing comes to him on the third try. A rigid silence fills the meeting room that keeps everyone on edge, anticipating his next move. When Geto finishes his fourth scan, in comes another blank page, until the corner of his eye catches you standing idly in the corner.

His gaze moves to fixate on your squirming self as you attempt to look anywhere but his stare. It proves unsuccessful, however, considering that Geto calls your name and motions you to come forward.

Geto presents you like a doll of sorts to the PR team. “(Y/N) here seems to have similar proportions to her,” Geto says, keeping two firm, large hands on your shoulders. You shiver at the strange contact “What if we…?”

One of the team members catches his drift uneasily.

“I don’t know Geto,” he starts as he stares at you incredulously, as if you’ve grown three heads all of a sudden. “Does your junior assistant even have any modelling experience?”

“Well no,” Geto confirms. “However, we’ve attempted to use all that we have available. I think this is our last resort.”

Somehow, you’re a little offended that your being is just simply a “last resort” to him, even if it is true.

The PR team’s director's shifty eyes land on each of his team members with visible hesitation. With a cracked voice, he softly announces, “Well, technically speaking, there is… one more option.”

Geto cocks his brow, his hands still firmly locked onto your shoulders with a whisper of a tighter grasp, as if you’re some sort of scurrying mouse ready to escape his hold at any given moment. “Well?”

The director’s mouth opens and closes for a given moment, attempting to choose the right words to say.

“Technically, we don’t have to use just our partnering agencies,” he begins quietly. There’s now a visible sweat misted on his receding hairline.

The way Geto’s eyes narrow so suddenly makes everyone hold their breath for what comes next. Because, from the looks of it, everyone seems to know what the director is going to suggest and Geto’s reaction.

“We’ve got contracts with every single management in the city. What? Are you saying we reach out to other cities’ talent managements? That’s rather tedious.”

“No, sir, that’s… not what I meant,” the director swallows thickly. “There’s technically one agency that we don’t have a con—”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Geto’s stern words ring loud and clear. While his voice volume is still the same as always—soft with an obvious austere to it—his words are tight and evident. The emphasis of the curse word gives more than just a sharp edge to it, leaving no room for negotiation.

Yet, one of the female team members pries anyway. She was hired around the same time you were, but because she didn’t interact with Geto as much as you did, so she didn’t know about how no meant an absolute no when it came from Geto Suguru just yet. Poor thing.

“But this agency has an abundance of models to choose from at their hand!” she exclaims with wide, desperate eyes. “I do think it’s a better decision to contact Infi—”

“I said no.” Geto turns to her and gives her a hard scowl before she can even finish her words. “Do not even say the name around my presence. I have forbidden any contact with that agency for a good reason. They only bring trouble and mayhem and disorder. Remember the Mei Mei scandal? The Kinji Hakari incident?”

Everyone except for you tightens their shoulders and lips at the mention of the particular models. This isn’t the first time you’ve been kept in the dark, since you’re still just as a new hire as the female team member, but something is telling you that this news is much more hush-hush than the other gossip you’ve heard. Geto sighs again, their tensing bodies giving him a clear answer.

“We have done well without them for how long this magazine has existed for the past few years under my leadership,” Geto says. “I see no need to get in contact with them when we have a perfectly good substitute right here.”

His hands pat your shoulders again to properly show you off once more. The PR team goes to scan you up and down with their beady eyes, mutters of half-confident approvals and some other comments that you’re a little offset by rumouring around the meeting room.

The director eventually sighs and gives in, considering that there weren’t many hours left in the day and that he and his team just wanted to go home. “Okay, we’ll use your junior assistant for the replacement shoot. We’ll tell Miguel, the photographer, and the fashion stylists to get ready for her.”

Geto turns to Manami. “Go with them. Just ensure that the creative team will not cause a fuss with the choosing of the model. We don’t have time to dabble in feuds now.”

Manami nods and begins to lead the PR team to the studio, leaving you and Geto in the awkward quietness of the meeting room. Eventually, he releases you from his grasp and lets you breathe normally once they all leave.

Geto leans on the table and returns to rubbing his forehead, muttering to himself at what he just did. You plant your stiff self back to your original position firmly.

“Sir,” you cough out with a voice crack with the lack of use from your voice. A heat rushes to your face and you clear your throat to properly speak. “Sir… I… don’t think I’m the right choice for this job.”

Geto lifts his head up from his hand and stares at you dully. “Excuse me?”

A shiver goes down your spine. Of course you forgot your consciousness and dared to question the Geto Suguru, editor-in-chief of the powerhouse fashion magazine in the country. But… even so. There were some limitations that you dared to even ponder about and though you were a lowly assistant, you still deserved to try and voice your own opinion on this matter.

Especially since you’re going to be affected in more ways than one.

“I…” you start slowly. Your gaze meets the carpet of the room to try and ease yourself out of the intimidating stare of your boss. “I truly don’t think I’m the right fit for this particular feat. Like what they mentioned, I don’t have any modelling experience and I’m sure it’d cause the shoot to be more prolonged than it should be.”

“You don’t need modelling experience for this,” Geto begins. “I’m not asking you to be a model. I’m asking you to be a replacement.”

The familiar odd hurt singes at you again when Geto labels you as nothing more than a prop. Something about him shoving you in a magazine filled with well-experienced and trained models feels like cramming a piece of plain cardboard in a nearly-done puzzle, its individual pieces adorned carefully with each other to create something beautiful and ornate, only to be interrupted by a spare piece of something that just barely imitates it. You may have all the right curves and edges crafted by Geto’s hands, but you know that you don’t belong properly amidst the magazine at the end of the day.

The perfume ad takes up three pages of the entire magazine—two pages for the actual photoshoot and one for the description of it along with its reviews—not much in comparison to the articles written in it. But it’s still enough to composite a significant chunk for the magazine. And enough to make you feel overexposed to a public that in your rational mind, is not going to give you a second glance much more so than the actual product when reading the magazine.

But right now, that unwanted attention is all you can think about.

“But still—” you start with a tight throat. “Manami might be a better suit than I am. Or quite literally anyone in the office.”

“Manami has been feeling under the weather as of recently,” Geto interrupts and shakes his head. “If we had more time, believe me, I’d be searching for a better fit for the ad as well, but right now, given the current predicament and since most of the employees have gone home, we don’t have many options left.”

Geto turns to you and though his face remains stony, his iris eyes gleam with a hint of desperation.

“You’re my best choice right now, (Y/N).”

Time goes still for a moment and you can hear a voice echo in the back of your mind as Geto gazes at you.

“Have you modelled before?”

When you blink, a crystalline blue pair of eyes flashes through your vision all of a sudden. You step back a little, slightly startled at the hazy vision you have of the “Gojo” man from earlier and his proclamation to you.

The tone of the man’s voice echoes through your mind. In a typical male fashion, that sort of sentence would most likely be played off as a flirtatious intent. But the way that he said it made it seem like some sort of actual encouragement, like an urge of sorts for you. It felt genuine. Sincere, even, as if he wanted you to do it for no one but yourself.

And though as of now, you’d technically be doing it for Geto… you can’t help but feel an urge just to try it to see how you yourself would like it. To see whether or not you’d actually fit into the mold of a “model”—even an amateur one.

You suppose… that there’s a first time for everything.

Shuffling your feet, you swallow the last bit of qualms down and let most of your nerves go, choosing to settle in what could be as of this moment. Even if you’re not ready for it, you think you should at least try.

And in the end, if not for Geto, perhaps for yourself.

You lift your head up and lock eyes with Geto’s with a more determined look on your face. The hesitation is still faintly there, but the ghost of it is overpowered by your resolve.

“Okay.”

“Alright, now peek your eyes over the newspaper a little bit, sweetheart! Make it playful!” the photographer chimes as he readjusts his position with his camera.

The photoshoot set is a makeshift cafe, to properly highlight the coffee and sugar notes of the new fragrance you hold in your hand. The backdrop is a fake interior window of the cafe looking out into a winter wonderland. Makeup and clothing took awhile to prosper considering you had to take off your previous makeup and let the MUAs do their magic on you and that you had to test multiple layered clothing sets before the photographer approved of the final one appropriate for the shoot. It didn’t help that you put up a fight to keep your glasses on and that the MUAs had to attempt a look that would highlight your features with your glasses.

You can’t tell whether it’s the nerves of you modelling for the first time or the heat of the lights that’s making you flushed. Something about the flashes of lights felt almost exhilarating to you. It’s foreign, but somehow, they embrace your being like a long lost friend of sorts. You have yet to get used to the blinding white lights from the flashes, but you only have to endure it for a good hour or so. The repetitive mantra of “You’re just trying this out.” echoes in your mind over and over again, even though you already know you seem to not be cut out for this sort of position.

It’s much too hot in the studio, you feel your body being rather awkward, and you don’t appreciate the onlookers that watch your every move as you reposition yourself to the photographer’s demands. You’ve already knocked over a couple of fake cappuccino mugs since your limbs still aren’t working correctly and you can’t seem to make the right facial expression to your degree.

It’s clear your nervousness is evident, considering you can see Geto discussing quietly with the creative director as they examine you closely from the corners of your eyes.

“She’s rather… stiff,” the creative director mutters. “You sure there wasn’t anyone on call?”

Geto hums monotonously as he watches as you attempt to find the right position to try and capture your side profile while showing off the perfume itself. “If there were, they would’ve been here by now.”

“Yes I understand, but,” the director fights the urge to wince as your bracelet gets caught in the chair handle. “I don’t know if this shoot will be proper enough to display in the zine this issue. Can’t we just talk with them and discuss moving the ad to next month’s?”

“No, they’re releasing it the same day the issue comes out. They want people to know about it as soon as possible,” Geto murmurs. “To ask that from us is to ask them to push back their release date. We don’t have that sort of power.”

The creative director sighs and silences himself, wallowing himself in a state of doubt as he and Geto continue to watch the scene before them. Perhaps it’s the state of weariness that Geto has accumulated from the past few days, but he genuinely doesn’t think you’re doing too bad of a job for your first (and probably last time, given the anxiety still within you) time modelling. He thinks the angles of your face hit the light just right when it counts properly, and that the clothes that drape you fit you more than accordingly; it’s surprising given that there was no time to tailor them to properly suit you but somehow, you made it work.

There are certain moments that your nerves fade from view when the director asks you to make a certain facial expression. The little surprised face you make when you hold the perfume up to your face was most likely the money shot, but there were much more shots that could be used for the ad that he didn’t anticipate.

There was one where your eyes stared directly into the camera from a three-fourths angle, a certain warmth to them compelling him to look further into you. Another one was a mild bokeh effect of you sipping coffee from a mug from a lower point of view, where the perfume was fully into view. But Geto was still somehow locked onto your figure from the background despite how crystal clear the bottle was. Either way, there was still a plethora of good shots to use despite you not being a professional model.

“But I do have to admit,” the creative director starts slowly, capturing Geto’s attention and breaking him from his gaze as he fixates on you repositioning yourself on the cafe bench, legs crossed to show off the mocha boots that adorned your calves. “She’s not really all that bad. I can see some potential in her.”

Geto’s body remains still, but his eyes shift to stare at the director from the corner of his eye, watching carefully as he examines you from the set. He narrows his purple eyes as he picks up on a mild lip bite from the creative director as you shed the trenchcoat to reveal a black fitted mini dress with a turtleneck, a vintage cowboy belt cinching your waist. While you’re still modestly covered, it’s the way you show off your long legs emphasized by the short skirt of the dress and the fitted heeled boots.

“I wonder if she’s single…” the director murmurs so softly that Geto just barely picks up on it.

“I completely forgot,” Geto interrupts rather loudly, making the director’s fixed stare falter as the shoot continues. “I believe I left a file in regards to the perfume’s licensing in the meeting room. Would you mind getting it for me? I’ll keep an eye on the shoot.”

The creative director’s brows raise. “O-oh! Yes, of course. I’ll be right back then.”

Geto watches as the director shuffles out of the room and out of view from you. Truth be told, the file was finalized a while ago. But something about how the director was looking at you made Geto wary of his intentions with you, if he had any at all.

Something about it made him a little aware that your temporary spotlight shone a bit brighter than he originally thought it’d be.

The shoot finishes up within the next hour, giving the team a good handful of images to choose from for the column before the issue is printed. Manami is with you in the dressing room as the MUAs carefully take off your makeup and reveal your raw face to everyone, peeling away the heavy amounts of concealer that hide the darkness embedding the rim of your undereyes.

“Christ, how many hours did you sleep last night?” she questions when you give a large yawn.

“I should be asking you that question,” you quietly remark back, studying her equally tired features. “If anything, you need the rest more than I do.”

Manami had been feeling quite ill as of recently, possibly due to the colder weather. She claimed that it was just the new diet she had been trying out to properly fit into the dress that she was planning to wear for the charity gala, but it was clear that no diet was capable of causing stuffy noses, consistent sneezing, and a mild fever. You had encouraged her to try and take some medicine and go home yesterday, but she specifically said that, “Geto will have a guillotine ready come tomorrow morning if I dare to even think about taking a day off right now.”

“I’m fine,” she sniffs with half-assurance as she snatches a tissue from nearby. “Besides, people say you burn more calories when you’re sick so hopefully I can lose another half inch off my waist by tomorrow.”

“Oh, so you admit you’re sick,” you point out with a mild smirk.

“I-I’m not sick—!” she falters before her nose begins to twitch. “Ahchoo!”

You hum, ignoring her protests. It’s currently nearing seven in the evening, and you’re sure that work is just beginning to wrap up as of this moment. Thankfully, everyone agreed to do the work for the perfume ad tomorrow before the finalized issue is shipped to print, but you still had to edit some articles, as well as help Geto still gather materials for his newest fashion line that he only tended to work on in the evenings of the weekdays.

He leaves earlier than you and Manami do, since he often piles the nonsensical work to you and her. You wouldn’t be surprised if he left the office without another word considering he was attempting to push out his new line by the end of next month.

In the past few months, you can’t say your work as a journalist has improved since your time at Kaizen, but you can at least say that your friendship with Manami has blossomed and sailed a little more smoothly than your first few weeks of working with each other. She was still a little snippy towards those below her like the college interns and the other entry-level employees, but you were specifically her junior, so you suppose it gave you special access to a much more kind, yet still sassy, side of her.

You spot the paleness of Manami’s usually glossed lips and how fatigued she looked. It didn’t help that the dressing room was quite warm so she looked rather blushed in the face. She leans back on the couch and puts a hand over her eyes to block out the glaring white light of the vanity.

“God, shut that thing off,” she quips as she lazily wags a finger to the vanity lights. “Feels like I’m staring right into the Sun itself.”

The lights are turned off and the room dims. You chew on your lip before deciding to sacrifice your time a little longer in order to help her out since you knew how badly she wanted to attend tomorrow’s charity gala and show off her new Emilio Pucci dress.

“You should go home,” you say quietly. “Get some rest before tomorrow. I can take care of the Book and the rest of his bullshit.”

She chuckles at your mild cursing regarding you-know-who. “Yes, because that went great last time…”

“I swear I won’t mess up again! That day was just out for me, I swear,” you pout, “But really, you should go home and get some sleep. I know you’re gonna come in tomorrow regardless of what I say, so at the very least take some medicine and sleep.”

Manami pokes an eye out of her hand to study your pleading ones. She gives in rather easily, sighing heavily. “Fine. But if you mess up anything, it’s all on you,” she states pointedly and unlocking her phone to notify Geto you’ll be taking care of her duties tonight.

She shortly leaves the office when you clean yourself back up to your day’s attire. The company car comes promptly on time and you begin to wave goodbye to her, but she opens the window halfway and motions you with a shaky finger to come forward.

“No funny business,” she mutters sternly through her mask. “I mean it. He’ll have your head first, then mine if you pull anything.”

“I swear, nothing will happen,” you promise to her. “Now go home. Or else that that cold will be taking more than just a half inch off your waist.”

She rolls her eyes but you can see the faintest grateful grin from the inside of her mask as she rolls the window back up. You watch until the black car disappears from view and into the city traffic before you go back into the office to wait for the Book to be finalized with its editors.

It reaches your hands eventually just a quarter to 10:00pm, a little earlier than expected. Another company car comes by and picks you up to get his dry-cleaning as well, and you arrive at Geto’s apartment just shy of 10:30pm.

The heavy doors seem much more intimidating the second time around. Perhaps it’s because they knew what happened last time and are just waiting to see what incident occurs today this time around. But you shake your head out of your apprehensiveness and decide the only thing that will be happening behind those doors is just you placing the Book down on his coffee table and leaving to go home and sleep before D-Day.

The entrance was the same as always—decorated with a great assortment of artistry of different mediums. In the corner was the marble dragon and beside it was the archived Basquiat piece that must’ve cost an arm and leg to purchase for the typical person. Up ahead was the entrance to the living room and in the center of it stood the coffee table.

The coffee table.

All you have to do is just simply put the Book on the coffee table.

Then leave.

Then just leave. Do not do anything more than that.

“No funny business.” Manami’s warning chimes in your mind again with each step you take to the living room.

“No funny business,” you repeat to yourself under your breath, clutching the Book tightly to your chest as if it was the most fragile thing on earth.

You eventually reach the beginning of the living room and spot the very ottoman that had caused you to have a much more humiliating night than anticipated during that one day you were given the simple task of dropping off the Book from Geto himself. You hadn’t been asked to do so since then, shamefully. It’s tucked away safely on the side of the sofa, meaning you had to intentionally yourself into it to try and re-enact your foolishness again.

The coffee table stands before your knees and you stare at yourself in the reflection of its glass.

“No funny business.”

You gingerly put the Book down on the center of the coffee table, your fingertips brushing against the many pages of its draft and a relief begins to fill your nerves the moment you’re about to break contact with it…

… until a familiar voice calls to you just as your fingers let go.

“(Y/N)?” Geto calls from above. “Is that you?”

You freeze on the spot. You swore to yourself and Manami that there would be no funny business today, and you were doing such a good job! Did you accidentally leave mud tracks behind? There wasn’t any rain today. Did you leave something else at the office that you needed to bring? No, Manami said he only needed the book… so did you do anything at all that would cause your boss to randomly call out to you during such a menial task?

With a rigid neck, you turn to him slowly with a pained smile and the Book officially set on the coffee table. “Yes, hello. Sorry to interrupt… I was just dropping off the Book.”

Geto peers down at you from the second floor’s staircase. He’s shed his waist coat and has left himself in his grey button up that’s relieved of three buttons at the top, just shyly showing the beginning of his chest and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A rare sight—considering that Geto was often covered from head to toe in fabrics then even seeing him in a short sleeved shirt was a rarity.

“I see,” he says, scanning you from above with his cat-like eyes.

You don’t know what to do. You just needed to drop the Book off and you were so unbelievably close to completing it without trouble. “Did you… did you happen to need something else by any chance?” you ask nervously.

“Ah, well,” Geto starts to your dismay. He pauses palpably before motioning you to come up. “I actually may need your aid on a piece I’m working on. Come upstairs.”

And miraculously, your throat closes up as you struggle not to burst into tears.

All you wanted to do is just drop the Book off!

Despite all the curses that marathon through your head that you aim at your boss, you gather up the courage to shove down any questions of doubt and take your tired legs up the winding staircase. Something is telling you that this is a trick—that when you reach the top, Geto is actually just standing there with your termination letter, telling you that you forgot a vital rule to never go anywhere more than the living room in his house. But because you can rarely ever refute your boss in an effort to spare your sanity, you do as he says willingly like an obedient dog.

By the time you reach the top, there is no pink slip for him to display to you, but instead is an open door that faces the staircase directly. Inside, Geto stands in front of something, and you can see a tape measure around his neck more clearly, as well as a pin cushion on his wrist that usually holds an expensive watch. The room itself is rather large, with a variety of supplies garnered across a pegged wall with rolls of fabric decorating two of the walls. It’s Geto’s atelier room for his fashion line, you detail, the one that he stormed out of with Shigemo that time you had to drop off the Book.

Without turning around, Geto calls to you, “Well don’t just stand there.”

Another thick swallow just barely passes through your dry throat. You prompt out an apology and slowly shuffle into his studio, where you see where the magic happens much more clearly and what exactly he was crafting on so late at night.

Geto moves aside for you to take a proper look at the mannequin adorned in a beautiful A-line black dress with a square neckline and ghostly, sheer sleeves. Around the waist was a loose string of pearls with a matching pearl necklace. It was a simple-looking dress from afar, but up close, you can tell that only a creative genius like Geto himself was capable of making something so minimalistic look so regal.

“Oh my…” you murmur softly as Geto pins a piece into place in its sleeve. “It’s beautiful.”

Geto hums flatly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he begins as he lifts his head to properly face you. One of his arms goes to lean against it (are those tattoos?) and you can feel his eyes scan you up and down like what he usually does in the morning as he examines your outfit. But something about this particular feat feels a little more intimate than usual, and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. “You don’t happen to have an outfit for tomorrow’s gala, do you?”

“Well, um,” you mumble, fidgeting with your fingers. Initially, you were just going to use a plain white, sleeveless dress you had used for a work party you spoiled yourself with before you left your former workplace since it was a rather expensive and nice dress, but as you second-guess, you’re sure Geto wouldn’t approve of a dress that you had bought on clearance at the nearby outlet mall. So you meekly reply with, “... no, not really.”

You’re expecting some sort of scolding from him, possible Geto telling you that you need to be more prepared for such an event and that the last few days’ events were no excuse for sloppy planning, but instead, you’re even more startled when he says something completely unexpected that makes your eyes widen beyond your glasses’s frames.

“Good,” he says and gestures to his creation. “Because I want you to wear this for tomorrow night.”

↩ previous chapter next chapter ↪

a/n ; i have rewatched the devil wears prada for the 123894th time before the year ends and have decided to bring this series back to life because i think it's much to good to give up on 🙂↕️ i don't know if i'll start a taglist just yet, but maybe, we shall see.

i'll also will be using she/her pronouns with an afab-hinted!body from this point on. i'm also still in debate of writing smut since 1) i'm not very good at writing it, 2) i don't usually like to write it lol, and 3) but i still do consider it as some sort of breaking point eventually between geto and reader. so if there will be in the future, it will be tagged and most likely will be extremely mild.

thank you for reading as always! i hope you enjoyed this chapter and this series so far. likes, comments, and reblogs are always noticed and heavily appreciated! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ !!! until next time!

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thisismeracing · 11 months ago

Text

More than friends | LH44

―Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader ―Warnings: curse words, mentions of food, and typos; ―Summary: You're friends with Lewis, but fans don't buy the "just friends" discourse - for them, you and Lewis make the most powerful couple, even if you're not famous. And maybe they're right, maybe you're supposed to be more than friends. (based on this request).

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

yourusername

liked by yourbestie, lewishamilton, and others

yourusername went for coffee/reading with the bestie, but of course, we ended up yapping about everything and only reading two sentences 😁

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angryschumacher they just like me and my bestie except they’re more cute and would make a great couple 👀

grandpierre can you imagine being bestie with lewis freaking hamilton?! 😭

leclerccrown what are you reading, yn?

⤷ yourusername crooked plows by itamar vieira junior! :)

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lewishamilton worst matcha I’ve ever had 🤢

⤷ yourusername youre just not used to the flavors! It was deliciou

⤷ lewishamilton it probably was, but right before you added tons of sugar and what else 🥴

⤷ yourusername shut up 😡

⤷ lewishamilton I just don’t need extra sugar when you’re around, sweetie

⤷ tifosikimi am I sensing some flirting? 👁️🫦👁️

⤷ tiredtyres tifosikimi I don’t think so, me and my bestie banter like this but we consider each other siblings

harrietdirection her hair is so shiny, her skin is so glowy, she’s so humble and simple and sweet and pretty can lewis share her with the fandom pls

lewishamilton

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lewishamilton recharging for next weekend 💛

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likedbypierregasly this looks like such a romantic dump, the kind of dump one would post with…I dunno…their girlfriend 👀

biebertsunoda I wanna be her so bad

yourusername 💛

⤷ keepingupwf1 yeah bestie Im at a loss of words too

mickschumacher Angie is questioning me about play dates with roscoe!!

⤷ roscoelovescoco 😍 Is miss Angies too

⤷ yourusername how about tomorrow before media duty??

⤷ mickschumacher sounds great! 🤝

⤷ zhoulovers she’s roscoe’s mom, change my mind

elitebarzal oh to spend a weekend recharging beside lewis and roscoe 😭

zendaya 😍😍😍

yourusername

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yourusername productive Friday at work 🤓

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redsainz who choose these boots? I bet it was lewis

oconnected they're so powerful together, you can see bits and bits of the other in them 🩷

mickschumacher glad you enjoyed the haribo! 😌

⤷ yourusername my new fav candy!!! 😌

lewishamilton nice fit 😏

⤷ yourusername you like it? a friend set it up for me 😎

⤷ redsainz told you guys he was to one to piece it together!!!!

bonosmicrophone its the way mick, lily, alex, george, and so on constantly interact with her 🥹🥹

dollarsainz lewishamilton can I date her?

⤷ lewishamilton nah, she’s already taken

⤷ leclerccar WHAT?,mKVNWNCJSJJCJSD

lewishamilton & yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and others

lewishamilton guess we were always meant to be more ❤️

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yourusername fitting together like the perfect pair of legos 💘 you're forever my best friend, I love you

⤷ lewishamilton I love you forever

⤷ schumickey 😭forever😭my😭best😭friend😭

rizzhou most powerful paddock couple!

yukiyukiyuki everything about these pics gives wholesome heartdly in love vibe 🥹

charles_leclerc finally, guys!!!!! ❤️

georgerussell63 it was about time!

alex_albon lily is asking for another double date (please Yn don’t steal my girl 😭)

⤷ lilymhe too late, babes 😁

mercedesamgf1 😍😍 we’be been rooting for this since the beginning!

⤷ formulainchident even admin!!!!

scuderiaferrari Yn, we already have your special headphones and shirt ready! 🫵❤️

norrisrizz I want what they have, I wanna be her, I wanna be him, I wanna be their dog, I-

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this piece! :D as usual, reblogs and comments are extremely appreciated. don't forget to let me know your thoughts!

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©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

― Reminder: None of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps, but the work is, and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

#lh44 #op: smau #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton media au #lewis hamilton instragram au #f1 smau #lewis hamilton smau #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton instagram au #f1 instragam au #f1 x you #asian!reader

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shojizbae · 1 year ago

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Peeping Tom

Tamakixreader x mirio

Word count: 4K

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, oral (m&f receiving) jerking off, safe sex practices

Mirio didn’t mean to. He really didn’t. UA had very recently moved into the dorms when it happened. It was a Friday night, and he just finished a shower after getting home from his work study. Apparently, the walls were a little thinner than he expected.

Sometime around 8:30, he heard it. It started slow at first, talking. A movie played, but it changed so often that he couldn’t figure out which one. He had only a pair of sweatpants as he toweled off his hair when he heard it.

“(Y/n), woah!” It was the voice of his best friend and neighbor, Tamaki. His shy, elvish friend had finally confessed to his now girlfriend three months ago. (Y/n), a kind but rambunctious girl who had been dropping not-so-subtle hints for almost two years was one of Mirio’s favorites in the class.

Since getting together with Tamaki, she had drawn him out of his shell. It seemed tonight she would drag him out a little more complicated.

“What ‘woah’?” She gently placated

Now, Mirio, of all things, was not a snoop, but he was curious. Luckily, he wasn’t a cat, so he pressed his ear to their shared wall.

“W-we were just watching a movie. I didn’t expect you to get all handsy.” He said, and even through the wall, he could hear his best friend tucking his chin into his chest in embarrassment. So, they were finally gonna have sex?

Two weeks ago, Tamaki came to Mirio and Nejire with this concern. (Y/n) had very nonchalantly asked if he was ready or could consider getting physical with her. After about twenty minutes of gently calming him down, as he seemed to begin hyperventilating, he managed to say something he wanted meanly. Although his anxiety could try your patience occasionally, you were proud of the semi he was sprouting at the mention.

After that conversation, he went to Mirio, who coincidentally was with his girlfriend. He knocked at the door open (Y/n). Want to have sex with me!” He proclaimed in the closest voice he could muster. Unfortunately, he entered a scene from a magazine in the back of the store.

Nejire was in her school skirt and bra, her hair was disheveled but tucked to the side, and she was lying/ straddling Mirio's lap. Mirio was only in some checkered boxers and had one hand on her boobs and the other on her ass below her skirt. He managed a squeak before he spun around and slammed the door shut behind him.

His friends dressed quickly and chased him down, finding him with his head shoved deep into the dorm refrigerator.

“Uhh, Tamaki?” Mirio scratched his cheek but couldn’t hide his smile and his friend's antics

“Yeah, M-mirio?”

“Whatcha doing, man?”

“Uh, just getting a tea?”

“Yeah?” Nejire confirmed, “I thought Yaobara took the last ginseng one. And you hate the matcha ones?” Hado placated

“No, I think I see a Yuzu one back here.” He reached in and pulled out a can of lemonade and cracked the can open. He toon a sip just for show although not bringing himself to make eye contact “mmm refreshing. Well gotta get back to my dorm!” He tried to breeze past the couple until one of Mirio’s giant hands pushed him back by his chest.

“Slow down there, partner! What was this you said about you and (Y/n) having sex?”

“Mirio, not so loud!” Amajiki exclaimed

“Yeah, babe, why don’t we take this back to your dorm?”

“Right,” Mirio looked at his girlfriend with smitten eyes, then at Tamaki’s cherry-red eyes. “Why not yours?” He offered. Tamaki hung his head and pathetically followed the couple to Hado’s dorm room to discuss what this meant.

That was two weeks ago.

Ever since Togata had been anxiously waiting for some kind of sign that (Y/n) had gotten Tamaki into the sac. He felt like some religious fanatic awaiting a divine character, and here it was. Giggles and sighs, and the TV in Tamaki’s bedroom turned up a considerable few clicks.

He kept his ear pressed to the wall, but his curiosity was getting too powerful for him. Accidentally or subconsciously, he slipped through the wall, so his head and left should be passing ghostly through the barrier.- Now his head was in Tamaki’s dim closet where he always left his doors cracked for a long-standing fear of monsters. From his angle, he saw a scene that was downright painting-worthy.

You were sprawled over Tamaki’s lap with both hand tangled into the hair at the base of his neck. Tamaki had one hand up the back of your cardigan which was slipping down your right shoulder. It seemed he was fumbling with your bra clasp which frustrated Mirio because they had spent a considerable amount of time teaching him all about bras.

Frustratedly, you sat up and whipped your cardigan to the side, unclipping your bra and pulling it out of the front of your camisole slowly to tease your boyfriend. With the news he could see, Tamaki looked downright disfigured. His tie hung off his bedside lamp, the top three buttons of his school shirt had been hastily undone, and a speckling of hickies already decorated his neck and chest. Mirio heard him whimper below you as he braced his hands on your thighs.

“You’re beautiful (Y/n).” Tamaki proclaimed, which shocked both who’d heard it

“You don’t need to butter me up, babe, I’m already so wet for you.” You purred as you sunk back to his lips. Tamaki did his best to keep up with you, but the overwhelming barrage of kisses and the constant figure eight of your hips against his was becoming too much for him. Mirio watched in delight as you climbed. His best friend was like a hungry cougar. You gently placed your hands in each of his collarbones, pushed him back onto the plush pillows, and placed a gentle peck on his lips before shimmying down his thighs.

You landed softly on the carpet on your knees with your hands braced on his thighs.

“Uhh (Y/n), what are you…?”

“Shhh, babe, I want this to be special for you.” You held your pointer finger up to your lips in a hushing motion. Then you dug at his belt and enjoyed the iconic sound of a metal clacking against metal.

“(Y/n), You really don’t have to.” He anxiously pleads

“But, Ama, I want to.” That made something in Mirio’s stomach do Olympic gymnastics. There was a pleading glint in your eyes as you begged him silently. He closed his mouth and eyes and gave the subtlest nod known to man, and you dove back in. You tucked some hair behind your ear and undid the button and zipper of Tamaki’s green trousers.

“Take off your shirt, babe.” You ordered, and he obeyed happily as you tugged his boxers. He wriggled around and tossed his shirt into oblivion, and you fished his dick out of his briefs. “Woah, babe, you have such a pretty cock.” You stated proudly.

Mirio had to agree. Of course, he had accidentally caught glances in the locker room, but he was seldom hard in those situations. He could tell from this distance that your statement wasn’t just flattery. It was above average in length with a plump cockhead and perfectly flushed pink. Mirio watched as you took a lick from base to tip, and Amajiki warbled beneath your touch. You took his balls in your left hand and played with them.

Amajiki was notoriously neat, so he wasn’t shocked to see his friend had done some manscaping.

“(Y/n)~” he drawled the final syllable as you slowly sucked on his tip. Mirio could see his friend's abs flexing and twisting as he struggled under your mouth. “(Y/n)!” He groaned. Suddenly, he touched your shoulder and pulled off with an almost cartoon pop.

“Why are we stopping? Is it bad?” You added anxiously

“No! No, it’s. He wiped his eyes and tried to collect his thoughts. “It’s really, uhuh, really good. I don’t think I’ll last one second if you keep going.” He wiped his sweaty brow

“Aww,” you gave a downward smile, proud of yourself for being a natural. You started climbing up him again and gave him a long, searing kiss so he could taste his own precum on your lips. You started reaching behind you for the zipper of your skirt, but Tamaki caught your wrist before you could retake the lead.

“I’ll be taking care of that.” He stated as a wave of confidence overtook him. He held under your armpits and spun the both of you around, so he landed with a giggle in the tangle of his blankets. Often, you forget how strong your boyfriend is. Partly because he rarely wore tight or revealing clothing that showed off his sexy, lean muscles. They didn’t exude the confidence typical of people as powerful as him.

As he stood, he tucked himself back into his boxers but shucked off his pants and folded them at the waist before tossing them to the side. You laughed at his continued clean behaviors, and Mirio just enjoyed it. He claimed back over your abdomen to kiss your lips and your forehead.

Sensing his tiredness, Mirio returned his whole body to his bedroom and got some water. He brought his fist toward his chest in victory and recapped some water. He’s seen plenty more than what is appropriate, right? There should be no need to keep snooping? Right?

Mirio checked the lock on his door, relieved that he remembered to lock it while changing. Although it’s not as if everyone in the class hadn’t seen some part of him during training. He took another sip from his water bottle and plunged his head back into his ‘peephole.’

What he saw was miraculous.

Amajiki was laying shooter style between your spread legs. He had his right hand stuffed deep in your cunt, and with his left hand, he was holding yours.

“L-like this (Y/n)?” He sought your guidance and received only a high-pitched sigh

“Yeah! Mhmm,” you attempted to clear your throat to gain some composure. “Yeah, just like that, Ama.” You sighed

“Ok, but how’s the pace, or should I do anything else.”

“Y-you c-could play withhh my clit?” You offered. Mirio was gobsmacked. How did his shy, reserved best friend get his girlfriend to stutter like him?

“O-ok.” he unlocked his fingers from yours and started making gentle circles. He tried to find it, but notoriously, it seemed to be the eighth wonder.

“Um, a little higher, baby,” you took your once-connected hands and guided his left hand up to your clit and hiccuped. You found it, and Tamaki's gentle hands lay you out.

“Like this?” He smiled up at your pinked face

“Yeah, just like that, baby.”

“So this is good?”

“Yeah, hun, this is euuh,. This is really good,” you accidentally interrupted yourself. Jeez, Tamaki, Mirio thought you really needed more confidence.

“You know,” Tamaki jumped at the sound of your voice, “nothing's wrong, babe, just if you wanted, you could use your mouth.”

“D-do you want it?”

“Only if yoUU!” Before you could confirm, he placed his mouth right where his left hand was. The squee you let out emboldened both boys witnessing you. Until now, Mirio had been balancing on his knees and his right hand while his left hand pushed against the wall. Now, his left hand slid down to his navel and slipped under his champion sweatpants. There was a considerable pile of pre that had pooled in his pants, and he thanked his twenty-minute earlier self who had chosen to forgo underwear.

Quickly he was able to grab onto his cock as his gaze was fixed on you, the porno in front of him. Amajikis left hand had vacated your clit as his mouth took the promotion. Instead, he was grasping desperately at one of your boobs, and his right did its best to assault your g-spot.

Evidently, his right hand was doing a good job, and you moaned and writhed beneath your boyfriend's ministrations.

“Fuck baby, keep going,” you looked your leg over his shoulder and locked him closer to your pussy. Mirio started to circle his cockhead with his thumb as he heard your moans pitch up.

You sunk your right hand into his hair, which made Tamaki groan a little. Your left hand flew out to grip a nearby pile of comforter.

“Tama, uhh, I’m so close! Please, whatever you do, don’t stop or change anything.” And he obeyed happily, maybe adding to the intensity only emblazoned by your tenacity. Your other leg wrapped around the side of his ribs as you reached climax. All coherency left him as you came a jumble of Tamaki's names and various moans and squeals.

Mirio gripped his dick a little harder, and you squirmed and relished the first orgasm someone had provided you. Tamaki sat on his knees and wiped his mouth as he admired how wrecked you looked. Your hair was spread in a million directions, and your tank top was ridden up so he could see your belly as it rose and fell. Your skirt was flipped up, and your panties hung off one of your knees. Even your socks seemed to be slipping if your body as your boyfriend devoured the sight of you.

He had watched many a dirty movie, but nothing compared to how sexy you looked right now. Sweating, shaking, and your face was completely red.

Tamaki was doing much better. He, too, was out of breath and slightly damp, but most noticeable was his cock dancing and straining against his navy blue briefs.

“Aww baby, that looks like it hurts,” you reached for his waistband and tugged him so you were both sitting on the bed, “why don’t we take care of you.” You sat his back against the wall and almost tore his boxers off him. You stood up and pulled your camisole over your head, and brandished it to the side. You gave him a smile as his eyes locked onto your breasts. You saw him swallow and, for the show, fanned himself like a lady at church with his hand.

Boldly, you pulled the zipper of your skirt down and let the green pleats free fall, and you stepped out of it. Despite being buried in your pussy just a minute before, the sight of you completely naked and on display for him was golden. His cock stood at attention, painfully awaiting you.

You climbed back onto your boyfriend's and kissed him sweetly to reassure him. His confidence broke briefly as he awaited your insight.

“Here, hold onto my hips.” You place your hand over his and guide them to the fat of your hips. You rose slowly on your knees and used your right hand to guide his cock to your awaiting pussy. You paused right as you made contact.

“Fuck! I forgot condoms!” You put your forehead on his collarbones in defeat.

“That’s okay, baby,” he secured a hand on the small of your back and leaned the two of you forward. He slowly opened the drawer and pulled out a box of condoms, pulling out the roll and ripping one off.

“How did you?”

“After that night, I went out and bought some. I-I had to call Mirio for help.” He admitted, ashamed.

“Aww, baby.” Mirio stopped his hand as he smiled at the memory. It was nine at night when he got the call. It took ten minutes to calm down a very overwhelmed Tamaki and explain that most of the scented or rubbed condoms were not a good choice and that he should go with latex unless he knew you were allergic to latex. You weren’t, so he got some pretty generic-looking lubricated condoms with a little doctor-recommended check. He didn’t make eye contact with the cashier; he only handed her enough cash to pay and grabbed the box before she could give him change.

You both settled back into position and he ripped the foil open with his teeth. Your knees buckled a little at the sight and you helped guide the condom down his dick. As you slid him down your folds you paused right at your pussy and looked in his eyes.

“Mhmmm,” he managed to grit out, and you slowly sunk his head in. Both of you seemed to moan and were keen on the contact. Your hands flew up to grip his shoulders, and he sunk into the small of your waist. Mirio gripped his cock reignited by the double loss of virginity. Slowly you eased down his cock and experimentally brought yourself up and down once. You shuddered in his lap.

Tamaki slid his hands down your waist to your hips, and you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down his lap with more confidence. With his help, you rode him with a passionate curiosity.

Mirio picked up the pace as you two seemed to find a groove. The purple-ette enjoying the sight of you taking him for his pleasure and the satisfying squelch of your pussy around him. Every lift and drop of your hips forces his eyes to shut a little, but every time, he forces them back open to allow himself to soak you in.

You’re not doing much better. Already sensitive from cumming minutes earlier, the excitement of finally getting to fuck Tamaki swirled into a greater pleasure than you could imagine. Unfortunately, it was interrupted by the ghost of cowgirls.

“Ow ow ow!” You settled your hips

“What? What is it, baby?” He clamped his hand on the side of your face.

“Foot cramp.” You shook it and winced

“D-do you wanna switch?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, and he kept his hold on the side of your face but gave you a gentle peck. Then he slid his hands under your legs and picked you, only to slam you down on the mattress. You bounced and laughed as you held his face for another kiss. You tucked some stray hair out of his face as he guided himself back into your sweet, warm pussy.

You made eye contact as a slight gasp slipped from your mouth. Tamaki leaned over you and placed your arms around his neck. He placed both hands by your ears and started up a slow and gentle pace. Before he realized your eyes were going the same rolling back/ force open pattern.

From this position Amajiki was hitting all the best angles. Mirio thought he was spoiled for getting the pleasure of witnessing this. Every grunt and every sigh even the squeak of the mattress beneath Tamaki’s knees was only fuel for his fist. He brought his hand up to his mouth so he could collect a weight bead of spit which he spread over his throbbing cock. He could feel his balls keening with the need to release but he was trying to time it with the movie he was witnessing.

On your side of the wall was bliss. You kept your arms around his neck but still wove your fingers through the thick hair at his nape. When you gave a particularly strong tug Tamaki crooned into you touch. He moaned a little harder as you tugged on him.

“D’yo like that, Ama?”

“Y-yes,” he managed to plead.

“Y’want me to do it again?”

“Yes-fuck, please!” You were shocked to hear your typically formal boyfriend swear at you. It was hot, so you pulled harder in his gorgeous silky hair. You only pulled more erotic sounds out of his lips, which were coated in a thin layer of saliva from chewing on them.

“Fuck again! I-I’m gonna cum!”

“T-Tama!” You nearly started laughing in surprise at his foul mouth. But the obsessive rhythm of his hips was bringing you closer to the edge again. “Just keep going. I’m ughh,” you groaned against your will as he teased your G-spot.

“Deeper Tama!” You begged. He grabbed each of your ankles at your request and brought them up by his ears. He leaned down on you and landed a searing kiss on your forehead and then brought his pace a little faster, lingering at the depression of his thrust.

“Ahh, right there! Please don’t stop!” But he was sputtering out from exhaustion and being on the precipice of an orgasm

“I can’t- I’m not gonna!” He sounded absolutely pathetic

“It’s fine, baby. Just keep going.”

“Do you want me to pull out?”

“Why would you wear a condom? Inside please” At that, any scrap of reserve fell away as he pounded into you, desperate to cum.

“(Y/n)! Uh, I’m gonna!” He parked his hips deep in your pussy as he came with a whimper. Your eyes rolled so far back that he was nervous; they might not return. As he came to, he felt like he was strangled by your pussy, clamping down and spasming around his cock. You raked your hands down Amajiki's back, desperate to cling onto something for fear you might float away.

If he were to look back on it, Mirio would say that the noises you made as you came sent him hurtling over the edge. In a split-second decision, he permeated his other hand through the wall to bite so he could damper his sounds. He shuddered, and his ear rang after he came. A nasty white matter on the wall was evidence of his Tom peeping.

He pulled himself back through to his room to assess the damage. He would need to change his sweatpants because of a big precum stain on the grey fabric. He laughed at himself and how live-action porn got him so riled up.

“Oh jeez,” he put his clean hand on his forehead. Directly after he had hidden the evidence, a pounding at his door nearly scared him out of his skin.

“Miri! Togata! Why is your door locked?” He zipped over to his door, unlocked it, and gave his girlfriend a kiss on the forehead as she sunk into his chest.

“Long day, baby?” He similarly caged her in

“So long,” she whined

“You want to hear something that will cheer you up?” He pulled back so he could look at her adorable little face

“Always,”

“They finally did it.” He admitted with a downward smile

“YOU SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!” She leaped back, accidentally activating her quirk

“Yeah, I heard it all.” He smirked proudly. “You wanna go over and bust them?”

“Yeah!” She cheered sharing similar smirks and penchants for mischief. Mirio threw on a t-shirt and they crept next door. Stupidly the couple had forgone locking the door. The two bust through the door to reveal what could have been a sweet wholesome moment.

(Y/n) had her head laid on Tamaki’s chest and Tamaki had an arm over her shoulder and was stroking up and down with his finger tips. But as the couple blew threw Tamaki’s door sending the couple flying up and out of their sheets.

(Y/n) grabbed the nearest blanket and held it to her chest to conserve some of her modesty.

“What are you doing get out!” You screeched in embarrassment while poor Tamaki cowered, mortified.

“Ok ok,” Mirio backed out in surrender “did you kids have fun?”

“Out!’l you hollered. The incident did not stop you by any means from continuing your fun. You just remembered to lock the doors. But no padlock could keep out your neighbor of a peeping tom.

#tamaki amajiki #Tamaki Amajikix reader #Mirio Togata #Nejire Hado #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #Tamaki Amajiki x reader smut

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firstdivisiongirl · 9 months ago

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Hi! I'd like to request number 4 for the summer event with Haitani Rindou from Tokyorev 🪄

The event is such a cute idea I can't wait to read your writing 🙇🏻‍♀️

Hey there. Thank you so much for the request and your kind words. I love the idea of an ice cream date. Seems like a great way to spend a hot day with a hot guy. Please enjoy!

Rindou Haitani x Reader: Strawberry

When Rindou asked you out, you were really shocked. He was a delinquent, a powerful one at that. You were just a normal student who didn’t get into trouble. Truth was, that’s what he liked about you. The fact that you weren’t scared of him or treated him differently. You were nice and pretty. Sadly, he picked the worst day to go on a date. It was extremely hot. What made it worse was every restaurant he tried to take you too was jammed packed because everyone was escaping from the heat. And most ice cream parlors were too.

“It’s okay Rindou,” you told him with the brightest smile, “I know the perfect spot!” You grabbed Rindou’s hand. Rindou started to turn as red as a tomato. But he followed you through the crowded streets of Roppongi. The further you got away from the main shopping areas the less crowded it became. He was so focused on trying to play it cool that he didn’t notice you stop in front of an old wooden cart. “Tad Ah,” you said proudly motioning to the ice cream cart.

“There’s no line,” he dumbly stated, trying to calm down his flustered self.

“Yep! My dad used to take me here all the time when I was little. No one usually ventures this far from the main shops, but I think they have the best ice cream in Roppongi!”

“Bold statement. Let’s test that theory.” The two of you walked up to the cart owner and ordered. He got matcha and you got strawberry.

“How do you like strawberry ice cream,” he bluntly asked as the two of you ate.

You paused for a second before turning towards him, “I think it’s nice. It’s more interesting than plain vanilla but not as sweet as chocolate. It takes the best of both flavors and combines them, with the extra fruitiness.”

After your little date, he took you back to your dorm. “Thanks Rindou,” you said smiling, “I had a great time.”

He smiled back, “I did too. Wanna go out another time?”

“I’d love that.”

You headed into your room when suddenly you turned around and kissed him gently. “Bye Rindou,” you said before opening the door and disappearing into your room. As he walked out of the dorms and back home, he realized something. You were right. Strawberry was nice.

Please do not copy, modify, translate or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

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magic-shop-stories · 8 days ago

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Hi! I read your J-Hope fanfiction and absolutely loved it, and it got me thinking about Yoongi having a kid. Could you imagine a scene where Yoongi’s teenage child accidentally breaks something really important to him—maybe in his studio? It could be something like an award maybe? Yoongi isn’t mad, but his kid feels so guilty they run off to their mom’s grave and when Yoongi finds them, it’s this emotional moment where he reassures them that they’re more important than any material thing. Maybe they’ve been secretly working on music in his studio, and he already knows about it and loves it?

I hope that’s not too specific! You can ignore this if it’s too much—I’ve never requested something before, but your writing is so good, and I thought this could be really touching. Thank you! 💜

Also if you want to add Namjoon breaking something for comedic relief, I wouldn’t complain. 😂

💌 Reply:

WoooooooW, like fr... WOW! First of all, THANK YOU for reading my J-Hope fic and loving it—your kind words mean the world to me! 🥺 And oh my heart, this Yoongi dad scenario has me in pieces 🥹✨

The idea of Yoongi’s kid accidentally breaking something precious, only for him to remind them they’re his everything? I’m already emotional. And the secret music-making?? STOP, I’m soft. 💔

I’ll absolutely write this for you—expect lots of soft Yoongi dad moments, a sprinkle of angst, and a whole lot of healing. 💜

REQUEST NAME:

Broken Things That Matter

↳ Yoongi x Teen!Reader (Parent/Child); Angst with Comfort, Fluff

Rating: G/M!

Word Count: ~2,5k

Genre: BTS AU, Parent, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Feelings, Found Family, Emotional Whump

Warnings: Strong language, grief mention (loss of a parent), emotional distress, self-doubt, self-destructive thoughts, strained parent-child relationship.

Pairings: None (Parent-Child Relationship)

Featuring: Single Dad Yoongi, emotionally guarded child, music as an unspoken connection, tension and unsaid words, slow emotional healing, and a synthesizer full of memories.

The Relic

The Moog ONE 16 wasn’t just a synthesizer—it was a relic, a 16.5 million won relic. Yoongi had hunted it down in Tokyo, its walnut veneer gleaming under the fluorescent lights of a vintage gear shop, its analogue guts humming with the ghosts of every artist who’d ever coaxed sound from its keys. He’d joked to Namjoon afterwards that buying it felt like adopting a feral cat: expensive, temperamental, and his. Now it sat in the corner of his studio like a shrine, its LED matrix flickering faintly even when powered off as if dreaming.

You had been orbiting it for weeks.

You’d linger by the door after school, backpack slung over one shoulder, pretending to text while eyeing the Moog’s labyrinth of knobs and sliders. Sometimes, when Yoongi left the room, you’d dart in to trace a finger along its wooden edges, imagining the low growl of its bass oscillators—a sound you’d only hear in your dad’s old Agust D tracks. What if I tweaked this? You’d think, hovering over the filter cutoff. What if I ruined it?

Today, though, recklessness overruled fear.

Yoongi was asleep upstairs, dead to the world after three all-nighters in a row. The studio was yours. You tiptoed in, Matcha latte in hand, and booted up the synth. It whirred to life with a purr, its touchscreen glowing azure. You’d watched a dozen tutorials and memorized every patch Yoongi had ever saved. Just one experiment, you told yourself, plugging in the headphones.

But the latte was too full. Your hands were still shaky from skipping breakfast, from the adrenaline of sneaking in. The cup tilted—

Glug.

A tidal wave of green cascaded across the Moog’s ivory keys, pooling in the pitch-bend wheel.

“Shit—!”

You lunged for a towel, knocking over a stack of lyric notebooks. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you scrubbed, but the damage was visceral. Matcha seeped into the seams, the synth’s screen flickering erratically. Dead. It’s dead. I killed it.

Footsteps thudded down the stairs.

Yoongi appeared in the doorway, hair sticking up in sleep-mussed tufts, an old Daechwita hoodie hanging off one shoulder. He blinked at the scene—You frozen mid-scrub, towels strewn like crime scene evidence, the Moog’s screen sputtering static.

“…Is that,” he said slowly, voice graveled with exhaustion, “my Moog?”

Your throat closed. You had seen that look before—the tightness around his eyes, the vein pulsing faintly at his temple. The same look he’d worn when you totalled his car at 14, a failed attempt to “borrow” it for a midnight skate session.

“I’ll fix it,” you babbled, backing away as if distance could undo the sin. “I’ll—I’ll sell my bike, my drum kit, anything—I’ll work at HYBE’s cafeteria, I’ll—”

Yoongi said nothing. He crossed the room with the grim focus of a bomb defuser, crouching to unplug cables from the synth’s mangled ports. His hands were steady, but you catalogued every micro-expression: the twitch in his jaw when a droplet of Matcha oozed onto his sleeve, the way his nostrils flared slightly.

“It’s insured,” he finally muttered, dabbing at the keys with a microfiber cloth. “Breathe.”

But you couldn’t. The air was thick with the scent of dread and jasmine Matcha. You gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white, waiting for the explosion. For the “How could you?” or “You never think!” that had punctuated your teenage rebellions.

Instead, Yoongi stood, tossing the soiled cloth into the trash. “Go upstairs. I’ll handle this.”

“But—”

“Go.”

It wasn’t anger in his voice. It was worse—resignation.

You fled.

Upstairs, you collapsed onto your bed, replaying the scene on a loop. Stupid. Reckless. Just like Mom said.

Your mother’s voice surfaced unbidden, frail but teasing, from a memory six years buried: “Yu-yah, you’ve got your dad’s stubbornness and my clumsiness. Poor thing.” She’d been bedridden then, her IV stand draped with your finger-painted get-well cards. “Promise me you’ll take care of him when I’m gone. He’ll forget to eat… or accidentally adopt another synth.”

You pressed your face into a cushion. The Moog’s death felt symbolic. Another thing you had destroyed. Another piece of him chipped away.

Downstairs, Yoongi stared at the synth.

He’d lied about the insurance.

The Moog was an expensive modified beast—its quirks irreplaceable. The track he’d been working on, a collaboration with an indie artist from Busan, relied on its specific grain. Now it was gone...

He sank into his chair, head in hand. For a heartbeat, he let himself ache—for the lost music, for the exhaustion, for the child who looked at him like he was a landmine. Then he pulled out his phone.

To: Manager Kim

Need a repair genius. Moog ONE 16 water damage. Don’t tell anyone...

The reply was instant:

Suzanne Ciani’s protégé? She’s in town.

Yoongi exhaled. Fixable. Everything was fixable.

Except, maybe, the fracture he’d heard in your voice when he’d told you to leave.

---

The Shattered Trophy

The studio had become a burial ground for mistakes.

A few days after the Moog disaster, the air still reeked of regret—and now, faintly, of burnt matcha. Cables snaked across the floor like vipers, tangling around chair legs and pedalboards. Yoongi’s Golden Disc Award, its golden figure mid-strum unfurled, perched precariously on a floating shelf cluttered with thumb drives and empty coffee cups. It was the 2023 Digital Song Bonsang for “That That”—a collaboration with Psy that had dominated charts the same week your mother took her last breath.

You hadn’t touched it. Hadn’t even looked at it since the funeral.

But today, your mind was a storm.

ADHD buzzed under your skin like static, limbs restless from days of walking on eggshells. You’d come to apologize again, to beg for chores—anything—to atone. But Yoongi was hunched over his monitors, headphones on, lost in a mix. His silence was a wall.

Maybe if I just… straighten up.

You tiptoed around the room, gathering discarded coffee cups and coiling cables. Each movement was careful and deliberate. But focus was a slippery thing—a notification buzzed in your pocket:

Jae BFF: Skatepark later? ,

and your foot caught on an XLR cord.

Time warped.

Your elbow slammed into the shelf. The trophy wobbled, tipped, and—

Crash.

The sound was cathedral-loud. The golden figure shattered on impact, its head shearing clean off, rolling beneath the desk with a hollow clink. Your breath stopped.

Flashback: Your mother’s hands, skeletal and IV-punctured, cradling the trophy. Her voice, a threadbare whisper: “Our grumpy rockstar… did it again.” Three days later, she was gone. The award had sat untouched since, a relic of her last coherent joy.

Yoongi froze. The click of his mouse stopped mid-edit.

“…?”

You dropped to your knees, scrambling for the pieces. “I’m sorry— I’ll glue it, I’ll— I’ll find a jeweler, I’ll—”

“Don’t touch it.”

His voice was arctic. You recoiled as if slapped.

Yoongi stood slowly, chair screeching. His face was a mask, but his hands betrayed him—fingers trembling at his sides, knuckles blanched. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t look at anything his gaze fixed on some middle distance where grief and fury collided.

“Out,” he said, voice splintering. “Now.”

“Dad, please—”

“NOW.”

The word was a detonation.

You fled.

---

The Runaway

The streets of Seoul swallowed you whole.

You ran blindly, sneakers slapping against rain-slick pavement, the city’s neon glow warping into streaks of acid green and electric blue. Paparazzi lurked at every familiar corner—Always watching, always hungry—so you veered into alleyways, vaulting over trash bags and dodging delivery bikes. Hobi’s apartment was too close; Taehyung’s studio was too bright. The Han River bridges loomed in your mind, but the thought of standing on those guardrails, of icy water below, made your stomach lurch.

No. Not there.

Your feet carried you somewhere older, quieter. The subway ride passed in a haze—stares from passengers, a teen’s muffled “Isn’t that Suga’s kid?” - ignored. Seonyeong Cemetery emerged at dusk, its iron gates weathered and moss-clung. You slipped through a gap in the fence, your mother’s grave a compass point in the dark.

The dogwood tree had grown gnarled in six years, its branches clawing at the sky. The headstone beneath it was small, unadorned but for her name—Min Ji-eun—and the dates that bookended her warmth. You collapsed onto the damp earth, grass staining your ripped jeans, and pressed your forehead to the cold stone.

“Eomma,” you choked, the word crumbling like ash. “I’m… I’m breaking everything.”

Rain began to fall—thin, needling drops. Your hoodie soaked through, clinging to your skin, but you barely felt it. Your mind looped like a corrupted track: Moog. Trophy. Mom. Moog. Trophy. Mom.

Flashback: Age 9, hospital room.

Your mother’s hand, feather-light. “Yu-yah… promise me you’ll take care of him. He’ll forget… forget to laugh.”

You had nodded, not understanding. Now, you understood too well.

A sob ripped free. “I’m failing you. I’m— I’m just like him—all broken knobs and sharp edges—”

The wind hissed through the dogwood, scattering dead leaves. No answer. There never was.

---

The Search

Yoongi’s hands shook as he typed.

Yoongi: Yumi’s gone. Check the usual spots.

The group chat exploded.

Jin: On my way to the Han River. Jungkook, check the bridges near Itaewon.

Jimin: HYBE’s empty. Security cams show they never came here.

Jungkook: Already at the skatepark. Jae says they left their board. Paparazzi chased them earlier.

Hobi: Checking Tae’s studio. They’re not answering calls.

Yoongi stared at the screen, his reflection fractured in its cracks. The studio felt alien now—a crime scene. The Moog sat shrouded in a tarp, the trophy shards boxed but unaddressed. He’d found your sketchbook open on the couch: a page filled with rough drafts of him, all frowns and hunched shoulders, captioned “World’s Okayest Dad (Don’t Tell Him).”

How did I miss this?

Namjoon arrived unannounced, damp from the rain, his glasses fogged. “Hyung. Let’s go.”

Yoongi didn’t argue.

---

The Cemetery

The rain had thickened into a downpour by the time they reached the gravesite. Yoongi drove, white-knuckling the steering wheel, while Namjoon navigated from the passenger seat. The car fishtailed on the muddy backroads, but Yoongi didn’t slow.

“Here,” Namjoon said, pointing to a gap in the cemetery fence.

Yoongi parked haphazardly, ignoring the NO ENTRY AFTER DARK sign. Namjoon grabbed an umbrella from the backseat—Yoongi’s backup, black and battle-scarred—but true to form, fumbled it as he ducked under the dogwood tree. The umbrella caught on a low branch, ribs snapping with a sound like brittle bones.

“Aish,” he muttered, shaking the mangled fabric. “Sorry, Hyung.”

You didn’t look up. You were curled into a shivering ball against your mother’s headstone, soaked to the skin, your AgustD hoodie darkened to charcoal by the rain. Namjoon crouched beside you, abandoning the broken umbrella to the mud.

“Hey, little storm.”

“Go away.” Your words were hoarse, raw from hours of crying.

Namjoon sat anyway, his long limbs folding awkwardly, knees jutting like a grasshopper’s. Rain dripped from his hair into the collar of his jacket. “Remember when I broke Jin-hyung’s limited-edition Sailor Moon figurine? 2025. The one he imported from Tokyo?”

Your breath hitched. “This… this isn’t a figurine.”

“No.” Namjoon’s voice softened. “It’s worse. But not unfixable.”

“Stop being wise!” You lurched upright, eyes wild. “It’s gone, Joon-ah! The award, the synth—Eomma—I ruin everything! Maybe… maybe if I’d died instead—”

Namjoon caught your wrist, grip firm. “Don’t.”

“Why not?!” Tears streaked down your face, mingling with rainwater. “Dad hates me! He should—!”

“He doesn’t.”

Yoongi’s voice cut through the dark.

He stood at the edge of the tree’s canopy, backlit by the cemetery’s sulfur lamps, shadows carving hollows under his eyes. Namjoon nodded once—your turn—and rose, brushing mud from his jeans. As he retreated, his foot caught on the ruined umbrella, crushing it further into the muck.

You scrambled backwards, spine pressing into the headstone. “How… how long have you—?”

“Long enough.” Yoongi’s voice cracked. He stepped closer, rain plastering his hair to his forehead. “You think I’d trade you? For any of it? The trophies, the synth—her?”

You froze.

He knelt, ignoring the mud seeping into his pants, and cupped your face. His palm was calloused, warm against your rain-chilled skin. “When she died, I… I wanted to burn the world. Then you’d crawl into my studio, all scraped knees and fury, and I’d think—this. This is what she left me. Not grief. A life.”

Your chest heaved. “But the award—”

Yoongi pulled a shard of gold from his pocket—the trophy’s broken head, edges smoothed by his thumb. “It’s metal and ego. You’re flesh. My flesh.” He pressed the fragment into your hand. “You think I care about a plaque? The night I won it, your mom held it for two minutes and said it was ‘too pointy.’ She cared more about the seaweed soup going cold.”

A sob tore from your throat. “The Moog—”

“Fixed it this morning.” His lips quirked, barely a smile. “Suzanne Ciani’s protégé said you ‘altered the dampening with impressive idiocy.’ She’s sending a bill. And a mentorship offer.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Turns out flooding a synth with Matcha is a résumé-worthy feat.” Yoongi thumbed a tear from your cheek. “Come home. Finish that track you’ve been hiding. The one with the… what’s it called? Trap breakdown meets Ennio Morricone?”

“Dusk Theory,” you whispered, stunned. “You… knew?!”

“Kid, you sample my snores. Of course, I knew.” He stood, offering a hand. “And Namjoon?”

From the shadows, a guilty shuffle. “Yeah?”

“Next time you ‘comfort’ someone, don’t annihilate my umbrella.”

Namjoon emerged sheepishly, the umbrella’s corpse now dangling from his fist. “Hyung, it was an accident—”

“God of Destruction my ass.”

You hiccuped a laugh, the sound fragile but real. Yoongi pulled you to your feet, steadying you when your knees buckled.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, shrugging off his jacket to drape over your shoulders. “Jin’s making kimchi stew. And Hobi bought you a new board.”

“With Hope World stickers?”

“Would I allow anything else?”

As you trudged toward the car, you glanced back. The trophy shard gleamed in your palm, sharp but held gently—a thing broken, but not lost.

---

The Mended Symphony

The studio hummed with a newfound quiet, the kind that settles after a storm. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, striping the Moog ONE 16 in silver and shadow. Its walnut panelling bore scars—faint tea stains etched into the grain, a slight warp near the modulation wheel—but it lived. A sticky note fluttered on its surface, Yoongi’s jagged scrawl unmistakable:

FINISH YOUR TRACK.

—Grumpy Cat

You traced the words, a half-smile tugging at your lips. The synth smelled different now—less like aged wood and solder, more like citrus cleaner and the faintest ghost of Matcha. Altered, but alive, you thought, just like everything else.

You sank into Yoongi’s chair, still warm from his earlier presence, and booted up the DAW. Your project file blinked tauntingly: FRACTURED NOTES (FEAT. SNORES). The waveform sprawled across the screen, a jagged mountain range of bass drops and distorted guitar riffs. Nestled in the bridge was the pièce de résistance—a 10-second loop of Yoongi’s snores, lifted from a voice memo you had secretly recorded during his studio nap last month.

“Cheeky,” you muttered, adjusting the EQ to soften the nasal tones.

The track was chaos incarnate—a thing of clashing genres and emotional whiplash. Trap beats collided with spaghetti western whistles; Yoongi’s snores morphed into a haunting theremin wail. It shouldn’t have worked. But as you layered in the Moog’s resurrected bassline—a growl so deep it vibrated your molars—you felt it click. Your sound. Not his. Not theirs. YOURS

---

Broken Things That Matter

On the shelf, the Golden Disc’s remains glimmered in their new home—a glass case lined with velvet the colour of midnight. Yoongi had stayed up piecing it together, gold-dusted epoxy bleeding into every crack. The figure now listed slightly, its neck kinked at a drunken angle, but it held.

Your addition sat tucked in the corner: a tiny skateboard fragment, its Hope World sticker still clinging stubbornly. Broken Things That Matter, read the plaque below, in Namjoon’s careful calligraphy.

At 3:17 a.m., you slumped forward, forehead hitting the desk. “Done,” you croaked to no one.

Yoongi appeared silently, sliding a fresh Matcha latte beside you—this time in a spill-proof tumbler.

“It’s… different,” he said, nodding at the screen.

You stiffened. “Bad different?”

“Honest different.” He hesitated, then ruffled your hair, a gesture so rare it froze you both. “She’d hate it.”

A beat. Then laughter, a bright and startled, burst from you. “Yeah. She’d call it ‘noise pollution.’”

“Then play it louder.”

You did.

...

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lexithwrites · 10 months ago

Note

what r ur wolfstar/jegulus/rosekiller hc’s?

You’ve opened a can of worms enjoy:

Wolfstar:

- Sirius does the talking for the both of them

- Sirius is more aggressive verbally but Remus is more physically aggressive

- Remus is just as kinky as Sirius if not more he just never talks about it

- Remus is the only person Sirius can go non verbal around (autistic/adhd Sirius rise)

- They shower together and it’s usually not sexual it’s just to save time

- Remus is the cook/baker of the relationship whilst Sirius is the cocktail/drink maker

- they host a lot of dinner parties

- they bicker constantly but never fight

- Remus’ safe word is butterfly and Sirius’ is cantaloupe (he thought it sounded funny)

- Remus had a big breeding kink but it’s less about actually getting someone pregnant and more the intimacy of it, being that connected to someone gets him going

- Sirius has tics like twitching his head and drumming his fingers

- Remus has black coffee and Sirius only drinks iced lattes filled with caramel syrup

- Sirius has a motorbike and Remus has a car (Sirius is a passenger princess and Remus is a backpack)

- they get married asap

Jegulus:

- they take weeks off every year to stay at the potter’s holiday home (probably somewhere like Italy)

- regulus insults everyone BUT James

- James can’t cook very well but he loves making regulus breakfast in bed because he always forgets

- it took regulus a long time to be comfortable with sex due to past relationships but James is so patient and legit doesn’t care about sex unless his partner is interested

- personal opinion don’t hate me, but James is a service top and I’ll die on that hill

- regulus is a power bottom and likes having control most of the time (he loves tying James up)

- it’s rare for James to bottom but when he’s in the mood regulus uses all their toys on him

- they have three cats (all siblings because James didn’t want to separate them)

- effie and Monty have biweekly dinners with them

- regulus has a j behind his ear and James has an r on his thumb

- they have promise rings but aren’t too fussed about getting married but they talk about it

- a lot of pride flags in their apartment

- James taught regulus how to drive

- James has to remind regulus not to have dairy because he’s lactose but that doesn’t stop him

- regulus exclusively drinks matcha and James is a hot chocolate boy

Rosekiller:

- they’ve never said they’re dating but they’re together duh

- barty has evan’s bite marks tattooed on him

- evan has a b tattooed on his left ass cheek

- they live in a studio and it’s basically a hot box room

- neither of them drive

- when they go out drinking barty gets beer or cider and Evan only drinks spirits with a mixer

- barty has a pet rat called Rosie

- evan loves him

- barty and Pandora are best friends and Evan has seen them painting the others nails

- evan does Barty’s hair for him, he’s never gone to a hair salon

- barty loves pain, like a lot, so they’re very kinky

- evan is usually in charge and Barty is usually tied down in some way, or gagged, or blindfolded

- evan had quite bad panic attacks at night and barty is the only person who calms him down besides pandora

- evan has a cockwarming kink and barty is more than happy to participate

- evan has a cooperate job whilst barty works in some gross bar

- they host the house parties

- barty has been arrested about three times

- evan is more possessive out of the two

- barty does his own piercings and tattoos

#mail #the marauders #sirius black #regulus black #james potter #remus lupin #wolfstar #jegulus #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller #jegulus headcanons #wolfstar headcanons #rosekiller headcanons

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fbfh · 3 months ago

Text

Curiosity is a Wonderful thing ch. 12

wc: 2.6k

genre: slow burn, little angst, childhood best friends to lovers

pairing: slow burn bff!ben x fem daughter of alice!reader, mal x ben (allegedly), reader flirting with Jay for strategic reasons

warnings: sort of kind of dubcon ish only bc reader uses a truth serum on someone but it's contextually ethical and nothing shady happens, made up wonderland plants by yours truly, reader shakes them feminine wiles to get info in a very sfw way

summary: you brew a special blend of tea with the sole purpose of spilling tea with a friend of Mal's.

song recs: what baking can do - waitress OBC, power and control - marina, something bad - wicked obc

a/n: your outfit (it's the same one as ch11), also HI I MISSED YALL. things have been CONSTANTLY happening and good news is I'm finally on the right dose of adderall so I was able to knock out the last part of this chapter in like 20 minutes or smth lol. ily all and if I missed you in the tag list just hoot n holler at me in the tags!!

also candorcorn root is a made up plant that makes people tell the truth, and neutrestnuts are a made up wonderland chestnut that neutralize things

tags @yesv01@magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sunshineangel-reads @dustyinkpages @inejsknifes @tulipmagnoliaisme @ev3ningrain @yokolesbianism @ma1dita @casey1-2007 @roseidol @eaterof-concrete @enhacatalog @inejghafawifesblog @jjmaybankisawesome @leovergurl @formulas-bitch @starsdotalk @tulipmagnoliaisme @inejsknifes @ficslutt @bwormie @urmomlikeslinotoo @jazhandzzz

Your mind is reeling as you go over the elements of the strategy before you again and again. You have the candorcorn root - from the right side of the plant, of course - in a small pouch. You carry it into the school kitchens, gather the rest of your ingredients, and lay them out in a meticulous sort of mise en place. You let out a long puff of air out of your pursed lips, staying in a deep focus as you begin to do something you’ve done a thousand times before.

Brew a pot of tea.

You brew the candorcorn root into a strong concentrate, so strong it makes your eyes water. You set it aside to boil down as you settle on what the body of this beverage will be composed of. Candorcorn root is known for having a strong, bitter taste - sometimes with a sweet aftertaste depending on the truth that’s revealed, but you’re not counting on a particularly sweet truth under the current circumstances.

To hide some of the earthy bite, you begin making your own blend of different dried herbs, spices, and tea leaves. You start with a base of English dinner - it’s much too late in the evening for English breakfast, even in tea form - then carefully whisk in a little bit of matcha. Once that’s steeping and nicely blended together, you muddle in a few fresh cranberries. You add in a healthy dose of your favorite Port Royal vanilla to lighten the flavor profile and minimize suspicion.

Feeling mischievous, you add in a few mint leaves to the mix. After it brews together, you waft the steam into your nose. It smells… irresistible. Your mouth waters, and you scribble down the recipe on a napkin to make again later - sans the candorcorn root concentrate, of course. You check your pocket watch, and the time for action is growing nearer and nearer. You bite the crook of your finger in consideration.

Your mother always used to tell you, the way to a man’s stomach is through his heart, and the way to his heart is through his chest cavity. You suppose it would be a rather good, sensible decision to have a backup plan of sorts. As bizarre as it is to think, you are aware that not everyone drinks tea - especially not as often as you do. You hum and rock on your heels anxiously, eyes darting around the kitchen as the self imposed deadline you’ve set marches coldly closer.

“Wait,” you murmur, freezing as you get an idea.

You begin digging through the kitchens as quickly as you can, looking for a few things. If you can get them together, you won’t need to worry about ensuring the specialty tea is consumed in full. You rifle through cupboards and pantry shelves, gathering chocolate spread, a large box of fluffy, cake-like cookies, hot chocolate powder, and a small jar of currents. You look around some more, huffing in irritated frustration at the lack of proper tea biscuits in the kitchen.

Your disappointment is short lived, however, when you remember the large supply of tea biscuits you always carry around with you for just this sort of emergency. You reach into your teapot bag and pull out your sewing kit, then proceed to swiftly open it up and dump out all the biscuits it contains. Your sewing supplies is kept in a biscuit tin, of course, otherwise you’d get them all mixed up and find yourself hemming your trousers with snickerdoodles. A preposterous idea, of course, everyone knows that biscotti are best for mending trousers.

The last crumbs fall and you’re brought back to the task at hand. Or rather, at foot, since that’s where the rest of the crumbs land when you stuff the empty tin back into your bag. You let out a shaky but determined breath, and begin to get to work as swiftly as you can manage. You falter once more, realizing that gloves are most likely in order here. You can only find your backup gloves, white and silky with a little pearl in the center of each wrist, but you suppose they’ll have to do.

It’s with a surgical sort of precision that you begin, soaking the biscuits in the candorcorn root concentrate just long enough to get soft around the edges. You lay out each biscuit meticulously, then slather them in a layer of chocolate spread and thick whipped cream. You repeat the process again and again until you’ve a little stack before you.

Once satisfied with the deceptive desert before you, you top it off with more chocolate spread and a heavy dusting of powdered cocoa mix, sure that the sugary chocolate will balance out the earthy, bitter taste of the candorcorn root. You garnish the top with a few strategically placed dried currants, spelling out eat me along the top.

You remove your gloves, careful not to get any candorcorn root on your bare hands, then make up another little pastry. The second one, however, is free of any Wonderland serums or juices, and instead is garnished with a few comfits from the container you keep with you - a habit you’d picked up from your mother.

You next prepare a perfect cup of your brew, then a second containing your secret ingredient. Gloves, of course, are worn during that second step. Your cup is garnished with a piece of fig, the other with a cherry stuck along the rim of the tea cup, bleeding down onto the side. You place everything onto a silver tray, as tenderly as if you were in the middle of diffusing a bomb, and exit the kitchen with it in your only slightly trembling hands.

You let out a steadying breath as you ascend the stairs in the great hall, making the turn towards the boys dorms. Stopping at an open window, you let out a whistle, signaling to a waiting bluebird that you’re ready, and to send word to your companions for the evening. You walk down the hall as silently as a ghost, only stopping when you hear rowdy yelling coming from behind a particular door. Your heart pounds in your chest, and after a few thrumming pulses, a large cat pads up to you, accompanied by a doormouse.

“Alright,” you breathe solemnly, “it’s now or ever.”

The doormouse skitters up to the knob, slipping into the lock and popping it open with a click. It slides down and scurries to safety, and you do the same, moving a few feet away and hiding in an alcove. The cat, brave and noble, slowly enters the room via the now ajar door. It only takes a few moments for the chaos to ensue.

The silent, still hallway is filled with a riot of barking and yowling as the cat speeds out of the room like a bolt out of blue. She’s followed, of course, by Duke; and Duke is naturally followed by Carlos. They all shout and skitter down the hall, around the stairs, and deeper into the school until they’re out of earshot. You steady yourself, wait a moment, then poke your head into the room, now only occupied by one person.

Jay.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask coyly from the doorway, blinking up at him. Jay seems surprised to see you, and answers around button mashing his way through the level he’s playing.

“Uh,” He replies, distracted as he continues to look at the screen. “Yeah.”

He lets out a long string of curses as he takes a nasty hit, hemorrhaging hp when he’s nearly done with the level. There’s still a chance, and he continues to fixate on the screen.

Perfect, you think.

Using your foot, you gently nudge the door closed with a click. You reach behind you, flicking the lock closed, and walk forward.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your winning streak,” you say with a cute smile, deliberately stroking his ego. “I just couldn’t wait until morning to tell you what an amazing job you’ve been doing at tourney.”

That gets his attention. Some of it, at least.

“Oh, word?” He asks, smirking as he glaces away from the screen a little more. You nod, humming sweetly in response. You keep your eyes trained on him while you reach into your bag and slip on your gloves. You pick up his tiramisu and slink over to his bed, breaking off a moist, chocolaty bite with a fork.

“Your athletic performance was… nothing short of inspiring.” You say slowly, bringing up the fork to his lips. “I bake when inspired.”

He chuckles, getting that cocky, flirtatious look on his face. He opens his mouth to reply with something you could only assume would be cockier than a spaniel, and in that moment, he presents the perfect opportunity for you to ensure he eats the first bite of your special pastry. He startles a little, then hums in approval at the enticing taste. You hand him the plate and offer him the cherry garnished tea, then remove your gloves, careful not to cross contaminate your dishes from his.

“This is really good,” Jay says, and you smile more slyly than a Cheshire cat. “So,” you begin, dragging your fingertips across his wrist when he accepts the beverage from you, “tell me.”

You lean in like you’re utterly fascinated by him, like you can’t wait a moment more to learn all there is to know about him.

“How is it that someone as…” you trail off with a breathy sigh. “Rugged… as you is still flying solo, as it were?”

You take a sip from your cup, gaze locked onto his, scrutinizing each quirk of his brow and twitch of his smirk, searching for anything he might reveal beyond his words.

“Well,” he starts, puffing his chest and acting all cool and nonchalant. “You know, playing the field is a full time job.”

“Both of them.” You hum. He looks at you blankly. You shake your head.

“Nevermind.” You murmur. You can feel yourself growing antsy. You’re not sure how long your dear cat friend will keep Dude and Carlos distracted, and Jay’s had enough candorcorn root syrup to testify in front of a parliament of owls. It’s time to cut through the detritus and root around until you find what you’re really here for. You set down your teacup, leaning forward.

“Dating must be so hard coming from somewhere like the Isle.”

He starts to answer, but you don’t pay much mind, continuing your train of thought.

“It’s just… if someone as enticing as you hasn’t been locked down yet, how is it that Mal managed to get a prince like Ben wrapped around her finger so quickly?”

Jay puffs out his chest, laughing at your flattery and taking another bite of the tiramisu.

“Well, I’m not really at liberty to say,” he starts, leaning casually and flexing his arms as he stretches. “But let’s just say Mal really worked her magic on him, you know?”

He laughs, and your stomach sinks. You have to remind yourself to manually laugh along with him.

“Really,” you tease, leaning closer. “And what sort of magic would that be?”

“Oh, you know Mal and her freaky mind control thing.” He chuckles, wiggling his fingers in front of his eyes to mimic when hers glow.

“But when you’re out on the tourney field…”

He continues boasting about his sportic success, but your mind is entirely elsewhere. Mind control. Of course. You wonder how you didn’t realize it sooner. Mind control, the same trance Mal’s mother used to lure Aurora up to the spinning wheel. Your heart starts thudding painfully in your chest as your mind races, grappling with the ramifications of what this could mean, the danger Ben and all of Auradon could be in.

You stand up quickly, reaching into your tea pot bag and pulling out a few neutrestnuts you’d snagged from your last trip to Wonderland. You smack one loudly against Jay’s bedpost, cracking it open in one swift movement. Before he can ask what you’re doing - or even realize you’ve stopped listening to his ramblings about tourney - you’ve pushed the nut inside his mouth.

“There we go,” you say, watching him to ensure he eats it. “There’s your after dinner nut. They’re all the rage in Wonderland.”

It’s a lie, but not one he needs to worry about. You gather up the remaining tiramisu and tea cups, leaving his dorm quickly. The neutrestnut should take effect and neutralize the honesty that comes from consuming candorcorn root, so Jay will be back to rights quite soon and be none the wiser.

You wrack your mind as you try to figure out where you can learn more about dark fairy magic. Not much is known about it, and what is known is heavily debated by both magic experts and members of the fairy community. You pause, remembering something, something that sits just on the tip of your tongue. The Museum of Cultural History has Maleficent’s staff on display. Maybe there’s some information there, something too specific for the usual library catalogs.

You check the time on your pocket watch and see the little hand is pointed to the words Hurry On Now Hurry Girl, The Doors Of Wisdom Are Nearly Closed!

Realizing the time pressure cooker of a pickle in which you find yourself, you take off like a bolt of midnight blue, rushing across campus to get to the museum on time. You’re sure you can persuade the guard to let you stay late, being from the Wonderland Embassy and all. When Alice Liddle of Wonderland is your mother, people tend to go along with any strange or unusual requests you make.

You reach the museum just in the nicknack of time, catching the guard’s eye just as he’s about to lock up. After a rush and babble of explanations, he concedes, letting you in with a concerned nod. You’re not quite sure he’s following what you’re saying, but you’re in, which is really all you’re troubled with at that moment.

“Oh- uh, I suppose so, Miss Liddel.” The guard agrees. “Just make sure to check in with me before you leave.”

“Thank you so much-” you glance down at his name tag. “Neil. Truly, thank you.”

He nods, accepting your gratitude. Before you can leave, he chuckles lightly.

“Doing some studying for parents day?” He asks with a smile.

The archive is in your sight, but you stop in your tracks.

Parents day.

In the tizzy you’d been swept into you had totally forgotten parents day. Will you have enough time to prepare? You must. There’s really no way around it. Maybe if you can work quickly enough, you’ll be able to get back to your dorm soon enough to get everything ready by morning. You turn to Neil with a smile you hope comes off as sincere and not panicked.

“Precisely.”

You enter the archive quickly, rushing through titles in hopes of spotting one that reads To Miss Liddel, Within Contains the Answer to All Your Troubles. Just like you’d expected, and unlike you had hoped, that particular book appears to be nowhere in sight. You don’t lose hope, though. You find a treasure trove of old, dusty, complicated books that each contain a little breadcrumb of what you’re looking for.

You just hope you can gather enough to form a loaf before daybreak.

#curiosity is a wonderful thing #curiosity #descendants #descendants x reader #ben florian #ben florian x reader #daughter of alice #daughter of alice!reader #alice liddell #liddel!reader #OH MOTHER FUCKIN BOY this one was on the shorter side bc of a lot going on in my personal life lol #but guess what's about to hit the fan??? all kinds of shit!!!!!#dare I say enjoy things while they're calm #I'm sure that's not very comforting /j #but yeah I hope yall like it #<333 #and as always thank you for being patient /gen <33333 #smooches you on your little forehead

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maineventbts · 11 months ago

Text

The Boy Is Mine

pairing: jey uso x oc

word count: 2.1k

warnings: cursing , some innuendoes at the end , that’s pretty much it.

note: i haven’t written anything in a while , im just testing the waters. pls be kind <3

It was Monday, meaning you were walking into the arena for tonight's show. Typically, you enjoyed coming to work; you had the best job in the world. However, this was the last place you wanted to be today. Your silver suitcase was rolling behind you as your best friend power walked to keep up with your quick strides. Your goal was to reach your destination as quickly as possible, avoiding as much contact as you could. You greeted some staff and fellow coworkers before rushing into the female locker room. Holding the door open for your friend, as she gives you a side eye on her way into the room. "What is wrong with you? You need to slow the fuck down," Nia said with her hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath.

You refused to tell her the reason for your speed walking into the arena. In your mind, the reasoning made you sound like a high schooler, and you were grown as hell. You and your longtime friend, who happens to be Nia's cousin, were going through a rough patch. You and Josh were not just typical friends; you were practically in love with each other. You couldn't get enough of each other from the day you first met. Sitting together in catering, riding to shows together, even having him hold your purse sometimes. You two even shared many steamy moments in private. No one ever questioned your closeness until a new person was added to the mix. Newer talent, Nikita, the Bane of your existence. Because you and Josh were not an official item, he was fair game for anyone. However, you were ready to go to bat for that man, like he put a ring on your finger.

"Hello? Girl, you almost killed me; this better not be about Josh again." Nia shakes your shoulders, pulling you from your daze. You playfully smack her hands off of your body, "my bad, I'm just a little tired today." Not believing your excuse, Nia opens her mouth, preparing to remind you of your busy day. "And I know we have a tag match tonight, I'll be focused," you beat her to the punch.

After setting up your space in the locker room, you and some of the other women head to catering. You've only had a matcha latte today, and if you didn't eat anything soon, your body would give up. Thankfully, there is always a diverse spread of delicious food, so you never have to worry about going hungry. You grab a Gatorade and pack your plate with three tacos and rice. As soon as you sit down with Nia and Naomi, you notice Naomi's continuous glances at you. "Yes, Naomi," you say, already knowing what was about to come next.

"Why are you ignoring that man," referring to her brother-in-law, Josh. Unsurprisingly, he told his twin brother Jon, who definitely told Trinity. You poke at the food on your plate before looking up at the girls, "I'm not ignoring hi-," Trinity put her hand up, not wanting to hear whatever bullshit you were about to spew. "I literally watch you speed walk past him at every show. And he won't stop calling me and Jon to see what's wrong with you." It was obvious that Trinity wanted to help you both, but you wanted to avoid being lectured by your friends. "He out here entertaining other bitches, what am I supposed to do," your words came out in a whisper in an attempt to keep your fellow workers out of your business.

You’ve been talking about Josh too much because he comes around the corner like Beetlejuice. In an instant, your head is down, and you begin eating your food, praying that he'll ignore you. His eyes are on you instantly, but to your surprise, he doesn't approach you. Instead, he sits down with Xavier and Kofi, at the table beside you. Your back was toward him, but Nia's constant looks in his direction weren't helping your paranoia. "Stop looking over there," you mouth to her, causing her to look down at her plate.

Just as you thought things couldn't get any worse, Bane arrives here to ruin your day. "What up Nikita," you hear Xavier greet the girl, who takes a seat at their table. Your jaw tightens, and your grip on your fork is deadly. Her presence makes you want to flip every table in the room and slap the taste out of her mouth. "I'm liking the little blue in the back, Josh; did you just dye it?" just the sound of her voice raises your body temperature. Smoke is practically barreling out of your ears as you try to remain calm. His hair color is none of her business, and why didn't he tell you about it? Your mind is racing so fast that you don't notice Trinity and Nia's concerned facial expressions. If you didn't leave this table now, Nikita would be laid out on it. Gathering your trash and personal items, you get up from the table and get away from catering as quick as possible. Little did you know, Joshua was staring at you the entire time with puppy dog eyes, praying that you'd look his way.

Back in the locker room, you begin to prep for your match. Earbuds snug in your ears as you riffle through your suitcase, trying to find the best gear to wear. After a swift search, you pull out one of your strategically distressed t-shirts, trunks, and kickpads. You change in one of the stalls and throw on your black boots. "You want to look like me so bad," Nia lets out a laugh as you both come out of the stalls wearing the same colors. The show had already started, and it was time for you two to get in the makeup chair.

"Do you want to go with a neutral type of look tonight," Melinda, one of the makeup artist, always asked what you wanted before she worked her magic. You went with the neutrals, and so did Nia. You and the girls are enjoying small talk as she puts the finishing touches on your face. "Y/N," your body instantly tensed up, and you refused to look away from the girl in front of you. Nia instantly looked away and continued to chat with the other girls. "Girl, i know you did not," you mutter, shocked that she'd leave you to deal with this alone.

"Yes, Josh," you fight the urge to face him, trying to stay strong. If you looked that man in the eyes, you just might let everything go and fold. "Can we go somewhere and talk," he moves to stand before you, not allowing you to avoid him any longer. "I'm getting my makeup done," you quickly respond, hoping to excuse yourself from the situation. "Actually, you're all done now," Melinda pats your shoulder as she ushers you to get out of the chair. Your eyes widen as you've just been thrown to a wolf by your favorite makeup artist. You thank the woman, realizing that you can't hide anymore. "Come on," you tilt your head towards the far end of the hall, which happens to be empty.

"Why you ignoring me," Joshua jumps straight to the point, looking down on you. His body looks tense as he folds his hands in front of him. It was beyond evident that he was just as nervous as you were, if not more. "We been friends for years, you know you my girl," you could hear the hurt in his voice, and it completely shattered your heart. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt Josh, but you were hurting too. "If I'm your girl, why are you flirting with other bitches? It's supposed to be me and you, Joshua; this is not a group thing." You could hardly hold eye contact with him anymore; his eyes looked angry and apologetic, while you looked like you were about to burst into tears.

He cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "Ain't nobody flirting with nobody. She just follows me and the guys around sometimes, you need to stop trippin-"you smack his hand away from your face. How dare he accuse you of being dramatic. "I need to stop trippin? You won't even let Dolph sit next to me anymore. Anybody gets friendly with me, and you get upset, but I can't be mad at you for getting fresh with someone that ain't me," no longer were you scared to look at him; you were practically fuming. Head cocked to the side with your arms crossed over your chest, "you're so fucking backwards, Josh. If you wanna flirt with other people, if you want to fuck with other people, go ahead!" The two of you sat in silence for a moment, unsure of what even happened. He clenched his jaw, as you tried your best to hold back the flood that was ready to fall from your eyes.

"Fuck you, Josh. I'm so fucking done with you," you turn away from him, not wanting to waste any more of your time on someone who wasn't truly committed to you. Head hanging low as you speed past everyone in the hall. Joshua watches you walk away from him, knowing that you need some time to cool off. Though you might not understand now, he loves you more than anything else in this world, and he wouldn't let you walk out of his life that easily.

The rest of your evening was bearable. You won your tag match with Nia but had to go up against the one person you wanted to strangle. Luckily for you, Josh was nowhere to be found; now it was time to get the hell out of there before he magically appeared again. You and Nia were outside, waiting for Saraya to bring the car around. Sitting on your suitcase with your earbuds in, this was the most peace you had gotten all day.

As Saraya pulls up in front of you, a hand drapes over your shoulder. You recognized that soft yet heavy hand anywhere. "What do you want Josh," your words come out very monotonous as you pull the earbuds from your ears. "You riding with me tonight," his words sounding more like a statement than a question. You shrug his hand off of your shoulder before rising from your seat. "No, I'm going with the girls to-” before you could finish your sentence, Joshua is holding your suitcase along with his, "you gon' stop running from me. You know just how much I love you, even though we haven't made anything official, I've made it more than clear that you my number one." Before you can get a word out, he continues, "I shouldn't have let her get that close to me; that's my fault entirely. But never once did I feed into her advances or little flirtatious behavior. I'm not checking for anybody that's not you, ma," with every word he says, you feel your face get hotter. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but you didn’t think that he’d profess his love for you outside the arena.

"I know we ain't made nothing official or anything, but I wanna change that. I don't want no one thinking they got a chance with you, and I know you don't want that either." Joshua advances towards you, letting go of the suitcase handles. Hands slowly wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to his body, "be my girl, officially." You couldn’t resist it anymore, the last thing you wanted was to keep fighting with Josh. Your hand comes up to the back of his head, strands of his blue hair through your fingers, "I'd like that very much," your words come out softly as you feel your face burning. His eyes were scanning all over your body like this was the first time he’s ever seen you. You couldn’t lie, you did get some new braids in and did your makeup a bit different lately, hoping he would notice. He wasn’t the only one staring, you found yourself drooling over his tattooed arms and the shine from his grill. It’s been a minute since y’all got together and you needed him now.

"Kiss her! Be a man," you hear Saraya and Nia yelling from the car, you completely forgot that they were waiting on you. Leaning down, Joshua carefully places his lips against yours. Wasting no time, you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. Your nails are softly combing through his hair as his hands start to roam your body. You hear squeals in the background before slowly pulling away from his lips. Gloss slightly smudged on your face and on his lips. Your mouth curves into a smile before you turn your attention to your friends. "I'll see y'all in the next town," you raise your middle finger at the pair before gathering your items to leave with your new man.

"You gon' apologize for ignoring me all this time," he looks over at you, licking his lips as you help him load up the rental. Already knowing what kind of apology he wanted, you shake your head, "nah, I've been under so much emotional stress lately. I think you owe me an apology, maybe even two," you giggle as he closes the trunk. "I’ma give you whatever you want baby," he says, hand smacking your ass before you walk over to the passenger door.

#jey uso x black reader #jey uso x reader #jey uso fanfiction #wwe fic #jey uso imagine

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dailynnt · 16 days ago

Text

CAPTIVE OF HIS ATTENTION

♡ Summary: You're an art and design student at Seoul National University, trying to maintain your independence and focus on your studies. Your peaceful life is shattered when you meet Jungkook , a charismatic, stubborn, and unpredictable guy who pairs up with you for a group project. He starts to annoy you by challenging your principles. Jungkook, who loves to be the center of attention, uses his charming and playful nature to play with your feelings and control the situation. You are constantly trying not to succumb to his manipulations, but gradually you find that his influence on you is becoming stronger and stronger. The relationship between you is a game of power, desire, and sensation, where each tries to leave their mark without letting the other take over completely. But will you be able to maintain your independence, or will Jungkook eventually make you his?

♡ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

♡ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

♡ Age restrictions: 18+

♡ Relationships: ⚤

♡ Number of part: 3/?

♡ Tags: university life, students, from enemies to lovers, everyday life, mild longing, sex, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, smoking, profanity, tags will be added as the story progresses

♡ From the author: Hello friends. A new part and here there is some dynamics that will lead to the next events. There is also a slight longing and no indecent scenes, but I promise those who are waiting for part 4 will not be disappointed. Please tell me what you think about this part 🥺🙏🏻 It is so important for me to see the feedback to my work 💖🥰 I sincerely hope that you all will like this part 💘💞

♡ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

♡ Tag list : @kooko007, @someoneelse0109, @kelsyx33, @minimoninini, @smokinghotstargirl (Want to be on tag list? Just let me know)

PART 3: Part 3. Unbearable magnetism.

You were sitting at the cafeteria table where you used to eat lunch all the time while studying. You were stirring the bibimbap you had just picked up. The aroma of the dish warmed your appetite to an almost animalistic level. You were hungry today, even though Miyon usually does nothing but talk you into eating.

Your friend was sitting across from you and had already begun to taste the Japanese sushi with salmon and avocado. She was eating it all with Korean kimchi and an extra portion of rice. You laughed when you saw her menu for today.

Miyon was chewing on another piece of sushi, which she put in her mouth and washed it all down with a matcha latte.

"Did you see that Kim Nara posted about a party she's having this Friday?" - Your friend asked you, scrolling through something on her phone. It looked like she wanted to show you the post. You shrugged indifferently and enjoyed your meal.

"No." - You say shortly. "You know I don't go to parties like that."

Miyon shows you an update with a brightly colored poster for an upcoming event, but you only hold your gaze for a few seconds. She picks up her phone and reads the text.

"You need to book a place in advance to get in." - Miyon says, but you hardly listen to her. You look at your phone and check your chat with Jungkook.

He hasn't been at the university for a few days. It's already Wednesday, and you haven't even started working on your project. You've texted Jungkook several times, but have been ruthlessly ignored. This made you angry. You decided to start working on it yourself, but before doing so, you texted your unfortunate group project partner.

10.11 AM, Wednesday. | You: I'm going to start the project without you. If you don't want, that me to include your name in our work, you don't have to come to the library after class today.

This particular message was still unread. You blocked the phone in frustration and turned your attention to Miyon, who was squealing with joy for some reason.

"Y/N they reserved a seat for me! But I can only bring one person to the party..." - Your friend says, disappointed. You don't understand what she's talking about. She suddenly grabs your arm and you almost choke on your food. "You don't mind if I go there with my Junho, do you?"

You freeze, raising your eyebrows in surprise. She talking about of party?

"I don't care. Just go. I wasn't going to go to this party in the first place." - You say. Miyon squeaks, thanking you, which you don't understand at all. She starts texting something on her phone, obviously to her boyfriend about their trip to the party. You continue eating.

For some reason, you think about Jungkook again, who was already pissing you off, even though you hadn't even started working on the project. You knew this would happen. You chose the topic together, on Saturday night, which you had already announced to the professor, but that was it. And if you think back, you chose the topic yourself. Jungkook made no effort to complete the assignment. He didn't even show up to study for two days. He was not in any of the classes. It was the same today. You'd already had two classes, and there was no hint of Jungkook's presence at all.

You remembered sitting in the cafe with him, and how he behaved with you, and you got a little worried. He was so confident then. No matter how much you tried to resist his actions, you couldn't help but admit that you were a little caught up in his smarmy face and cocky behavior. God, you should have been thinking about the project right now, not this idiot.

The only thing that made you happy in Jungkook's absence, not taking into account his personality at all, was that your deadline for paying off the debt was coming up. You had agreed, rather Jungkook had left you no choice, that you would become his assistant for a week.

Today was Wednesday, which meant that if he was gone by the end of the week, you could easily avoid this nonsense with the assistant. You'll say that you wanted to fulfill your end of the bargain, but Jungkook didn't go at university. That way, you'll get rid of him forever. And it looks like your pair project will become your personal project.

You continue to eat your bibimbap. Miyon, who is already talking on the phone with her boyfriend, forgets to eat. You exhale in frustration. You pick up your phone to distract yourself from Miyon's dialog about the party.

Before that, you forgot to log out of the chat with Jungkook and saw that he had read all your texts. Just a couple of minutes ago, each of your messages had a "1" next to it, but now it has a "2", which means that the messages are open. You could feel your heart speed up. You stared at the screen, waiting for a response, but there was none. Not a minute later, not 10 minutes later, there was no response from Jungkook.

You had already finished your bibimbap and started to eat a cappuccino and a croissant when Miyon said she was going to the bathroom. You waved her off without looking up from your food. It wasn't long before you heard someone sit down next to you. Your heart fled to your heels as your gaze met large obsidian eyes. They looked more like buttons that cute stuffed toys had.

You freeze in place when you see Jungkook next to you, not expecting him to show up today. His gaze never leaves you, and you feel your heart start to beat faster and faster. It's a feeling you try to control, not giving him the chance to show his weakness.

Jungkook smiles, and it's a smile so confident that you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. It's playful, almost provocative, and you can't understand why he's suddenly here. You try to collect your thoughts, but he's already spoken.

"Hi, baby. Did you miss me?" - Jungkook asks. You look at him and just blink your eyes. Jungkook laughs out loud and uses his fingers to cover your mouth, which, as it turns out, opened spontaneously. "It's like you've seen a ghost." - He continues with a smile. You pull away from him, taking your chin away from his fingers. He puts his hand down on the table, drawing your attention to the tattoo. You can't help but remember their stories.

"What? Isn't a ghost?" - You ask, looking away. "It seemed you fallen through the ground." - You bite into your croissant, trying to hide this stupid excitement that has come from nowhere.

Jungkook laughs, and the sound makes you tense up even more. His laugh seems light, but you can feel a hint of mockery in it. He leans forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table. His hand rests casually next to your cappuccino cup, as if he's here to stay.

"I didn't fall through the ground, I just had things to do." - He says, still smiling. His voice sounds a little calmer now, but you don't let yourself relax.

"I see." - You answer casually. There is a second of silence, but you can almost physically feel the pressure on your shoulders. You pretend you don't care that he's here, but you're mentally praying for Miyon to come back. "By the way..." - You say, breaking the awful silence. "Just for the record, I'd like to ask you not to ignore my texts anymore. I'm only writing to you because of studies. Directly because of the project. If you don't answer me, then I will do this project myself. I don't need a bad grade." - You say as if talking to the table, because you don't want to look up at Jungkook. Or you can't.

You don't see him raise one eyebrow and look at you with a playful smile.

"Are you mad that I ignored you?" - He asks. You turn your gaze to him. He's waiting for your answer, something devilish in his eyes.

"Wrong question." - You answer colorlessly. Jungkook laughs softly.

"Do you crave my attention?" - Jungkook uses the second option. You feel irritation spreading through you from head to toe. It seems that the time when he disappeared somewhere was the best. Why is he your partner?

"I'm crave to turn the project, but to turn it in, we had to start working on it on Monday. And if you could to see today is Wednesday." - The irritation in your voice is too obvious. But instead of becoming serious, Jungkook smiles even wider. It feels like he was created to mock you. If a look could kill, Jungkook would have been dead a long time ago.

"Don't be angry, baby. That's why I came to see you." - He says in a soft voice, trying to calm you down.

"I told you not to call me that!" - You say threateningly. Jungkook pretends to be surprised.

"How? Baby?" - He asks again, as if he doesn't remember you asking him.

"Yes!" - You answer sharply, but when you notice a few people in the café paying attention to you, you lower your voice. "I have a name. Y/N. Memorize it, if your busy mind can manage it." - You cut him off. He leans in a little closer, and you feel your heart start to beat even faster.

"Believe me, I won't forget your name. But calling you baby is much more fun. Or should I call you Sparkle?" - Jungkook asks you. You raise your eyebrows. Why does he have to be so irritating?

"Sparkle?" - You ask again. "Is this another one of your stupid attempts to annoy me?"

"No, not at all. It's just that when you're angry, your eyes literally start throwing sparks." - He says looking at you. Your lips almost open in surprise, but you hold yourself back, deciding that you won't let him see how his words affect you.

"I think you spend too much time watching me instead of thinking about our project." - You reply sharply, trying to get the conversation back on track.

Jungkook pretends to think about what you said.

"Maybe you're right. But I've decided that before we get started, you deserve a little bit of my attention. You've been missing it, haven't you?" - He asks with a smile on his lips that you want to wipe away. You can feel your patience coming to an end.

"If you think that this whole circus is going to affect me, you are sorely mistaken. I'll be waiting in the library at five, let’s just start working on the project. If you don't show up, I'll finish it myself. Do you understand?" - You cut him off. Jungkook raises one eyebrow, impressed by your determination.

"You see, I was right. You are a fire element, aren't you, Sparkle?"

"Call me that again, and I'll do everything I can to make you regret it." - You answer quietly, feeling your cheeks begin to blush again.

"Sounds like a challenge." - He says confidently. Jungkook leans back calmly, as if your words amuse him more than they scare him. "But come on, that's exactly why I'm here." - Jungkook says calmly. He sniffs his nose and purses the corner of his lips. You give him a skeptical look.

"What do you mean? You came to work on the project?" - You clarify. Jungkook nods his head in the affirmative. "You didn't visit class today, but you came to do the project?" - You clarify again.

In fact, Jungkook came because of you. All the time he hasn't seen you since Saturday night, he's been thinking about you. He tried to ignore these thoughts, but there was something about you that caught his attention. Your unavailability? Maybe. Your appearance? Definitely. Your reaction to him that he notices? Yes. You're both indifferent to him and blushing red when he shows you attention. You're like that tidbit he wants to get.

"Yes. I came to work on the project." - Jungkook replies in all seriousness, ignoring your words that he's been skipping classes. He skips them because he's not interested in learning. But then you showed up. Jungkook can't deny himself what he wants.

He meets your skeptical gaze. You stare at him for a long few seconds and look away, mostly because you can't stand his intense eyes.

You want to answer, but Miyon approaches the table. She's a little confused by Jungkook’s presence.

"Hi." - She greets him. Jungkook smiles sweetly at your friend and you stop yourself from clicking your tongue.

"Hi." - He greets her. Miyon sits down at the table and there is a tense silence. You glance over at Miyon, who has a "I'm going to run away" look in her eyes, and just as you're about to tell her that you're going to leave together, she stands up and grabs her bag.

"Y/N, I forgot that I have to give Junho the materials for the test. See you later." - She said and you looked after her disappointedly. You were going to kill her when you saw her in your next class.

Jungkook was looking at something on his phone and you were about to leave when you felt his hand on your wrist, stopping you.

"You're not going anywhere." - He said looking at you. You rounded your eyes.

"Do I need to ask your permission? Let me go." - You ask calmly.

"You're not leaving because you have to bring me something to eat. I'm hungry." - Jungkook says the reason he won't let you go. You stare at him in horror. Jungkook's lips spread into a smile.

"What? Get you something to eat?" - You ask again, as if you're imagining things and not Jungkook actually said it.

"Yeah. I'm too lazy to go myself. That's why you, as my assistant, have to bring me something to eat." - You almost boil with anger. You were so hoping to avoid this nonsense of paying off the debt. But you agreed and now you have to keep your end of the bargain. You throw your things on the chair and pull your hand out of his grip in frustration.

"What you want?" - You ask. Jungkook holds back a laugh at your angry tone.

"I don't know. Just get something you like." - He says. He receives a text message on his phone and picks up the phone. You look at him, ready to strangle him, but restrain yourself. Jungkook types out the text message and then notices that you are still standing there. "Are you still here?" - He asks.

You silently turn around and leave.

You feel anger in every cell of your body. How could you be so careless and spill coffee on him that fateful morning? You should give up coffee so that you don't get into such situations in your life. You sigh in disappointment and think that it's not the coffee's fault at all, but your own carelessness.

You don't know what Jungkook's taste preferences are, so you just take the first thing that catches your eye. You buy patchuk (red bean soup), rice, kimchi, pulgogi, and a red bean hottock. There was also a hotpot with honey, but you thought it would taste better with red beans.

You go to the table a little nervous, maybe you should have taken something from the usual fast food that everyone loves. You don't expect that the table where you had lunch with Miyon and where Jungkook came to sit will be filled with his friends.

You freeze with tray in your hands when you see two guys, and it looks like they are the same ones who were at the day you spilled coffee on Jungkook.

You panic and don't know what to do. What will it look like in the eyes of his friends when you bring a tray of food and hand it to Jungkook? Will they think you're his maid? Will they think you're just another one of his errand girls? God, where have you done so much wrong that you have to pay with your nerves?

You assess the situation. Jungkook is sitting there, relaxed, the guy who looks like a model for Vogue is sitting to the left and talking animatedly, and the guy sitting across from Jungkook looks just as relaxed and laughs at the boy-model's stories.

You decide that there is no way out and you have to bring the fucking food. When you're almost at the table, cursing Jungkook with every bad word you know, one of them smiles when he sees you.

You set the tray down in front of Jungkook, don’t greet up with his friends. All three guys are looking at you, and you can't help but feel their gazes penetrate you, making you feel even more uncomfortable. Jungkook, of course, doesn't help, seemingly oblivious to your nervousness. He just looks at the food and giggles lightly.

"Oh, honey, you brought patchuk. I don't eat red beans. I just hate them." - He says. You're ready to fall through the floor. His two friends obviously recognize you.

"Oh, hi!" - The model boy greets you. "You're the girl who washed Jungkook in a coffee." - He remembers you. Jungkook grumbles something unhappy because his friend interrupted you.

"Hi." - You finally greet them both.

"And now you brought him red beans, which he hates." - The other boy says. He laughs heartily. "God, you are my idol. I thought I'd never see someone who could so openly do the opposite of what Jungkook wants." - You stand there, frozen, next to the disgruntled Jungkook, looking at his friends, who are laughing. Jungkook gets a little angry.

"Shut up." - He says calmly. But his words have an immediate effect, because the boys stop laughing outright. They try their best to calm down. Jungkook looks at you. "Bring me something else, I'm not eating this." - He says, and you don't like his tone at all.

"I won't bring you anything else. Eat what you have." - You refuse. Jungkook borrows a look at you.

"I'm serious, baby, I'm not eating it. You can't disobey me because we have a deal." - Jungkook says, flatteringly. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his friends watching you closely. They have stopped laughing and are watching a perfect performance.

"We have a deal, but I wasn’t hired to be your servant." - You say. You take your bag and want to leave, but are stopped again by Jungkook. Only this time he stands up and blocks all the free space around you.

"You have to do everything I ask you to do." - Jungkook reminds you, looking down at you from the height of his height. You lose your confidence for a moment, standing in front of Jungkook looking down on you. Although you're not much shorter than him, maybe less than half a head, his height and weight are enough to make you feel perplexity.

"I won't be your errand girl. I brought you food. I fulfilled your request. Your problem is that you didn't tell me your preferences." - You say, trying to make your voice firm. Jungkook suddenly smiles as he looks at you. You don't quite understand his behavior.

That familiar slyness appears on his face again. He calmly looks away from you, as if assessing the situation, but after a few seconds his attention returns to you again, and there is nothing hidden in his eyes - he definitely intends to get his way.

"You do realize that if you don't do what I ask, your debt will be delayed or I will be forced to resort to my other ideas. Which, compared to bringing food, will be many times worse." - Jungkook explains to you. You snort, hysterically, hearing his threats.

"How we're talking." - You say, smiling. "Go ahead, Jeon, show me your worst side yet." - You cut him off. Jungkook's eyes darken. And instead of feeling angry or annoyed, he feels aroused and even more attracted to you. You're fucking driving him crazy. This phrase of yours provokes his deepest desires, because for some reason he wants to show you his worst side. And you should be careful what you say, because you've just released a monster.

Jungkook looks at you in a way that makes it obvious that he is taking your words in a completely different way than you thought. His gaze becomes heavy and fixed, almost white-hot. He doesn't even try to hide his emotions, and you feel his presence change. He is no longer just a man with whom you have a difficult relationship because of a deal. He is now someone who wants to show his power, and you have become a part of this game.

"Are you sure you want to see my worst side?" - His voice has a cold hint of the threat. He takes a step forward, and you feel his energy shift, as if he's getting even bigger. Bigger in a physical sense, bigger in terms of its impact on you.

You want to back away, but your legs won't listen. His aura becomes almost unbearable, and you feel everything around you become cramped and the air heavy. Jungkook is standing in front of you, and you can no longer keep your distance.

"I sure that I’m don’t want to have anything to do with you at all." - You say. Jungkook's friends, whom you have both forgotten about, are shocked by your dialog. They notice the way you look at each other, where neither wants to give in. For a whole drama, that is.

Jungkook pulls a gloating smile on his lips. You almost shake with anger and excitement.

"Don't say things that aren't true." - Jungkook says as if you really just lied. But you definitely don't want to deal with him. His personality makes you uncomfortable. You feel terrible in his company because you have this idea that he just wants to get up your skirt. Let him not deny that it is true.

"I think there's any point in our dialog anymore." - You say, ignoring his previous words. "You put on a good show for your friends. You can applaud." - You address them, and when you turn your gaze to Jungkook, you radiate the most real hatred. "I don't want to work on the project with you today. When you come down to earth, write to me when that we can star to work." - You take your things and walk out of the cafeteria.

Jungkook doesn't look after you and sits down at the table. He looks at the food you brought and wants to throw it all on the floor. He had no idea you would be so stubborn. You argued with him as if you had the same power. But it will still be his way. If he wants you, you will be his. Your resistance turns him on.

"Fuck, Jungkook, I thought we were going to melt from the tension here." - Says the model guy. Jungkook looks at his friends, as if only now realizing they are still there. He purses his lips without answering.

"Taehyung, it's like we've just watched the best Korean drama, don't you agree?" - The other guy jokes.

"I totally agree, Jimin. I only needed some popcorn." - Taehyung supports the joke. Jimin laughs. He leans across the table to Jungkook, forcing himself to stop laughing.

"Do you want to fuck her?" - Jimin asks, his voice lowering. Jungkook, who had been looking at the tray of food, looks up sharply at his friend. He stares at him, considering his answer. A cheeky smile touches his lips.

"Is it that obvious?" - He asks. Taehyung laughed, hitting the table lightly with his hand.

"You've got a ticker tape on your forehead: "I want to fuck Y/N." - He said through his laughter. Jimin smiles mysteriously.

"She's a tough cookie. You can tell right away. She's not like all the other girls you've been hanging around. I think you have to literally crawl out of your skin to get her." - Jimin says. Jungkook rolls his eyes and shakes his head. It feels like fate has challenged him by bringing you into his life. Even his friends doubt that he can be with you. Have they all forgotten who he is? It's ridiculous.

"Jimin, do you really think she can resist me?" - Jungkook asks. Jimin squints his eyes as if scanning Jungkook.

"I think she will. But you're going to spend a lot of time on it. And when you spend time trying to get her into bed, you'll fall in love with her." - Jimin analyzes. i. Jungkook laughs, but his laugh doesn't sound joyful-more like a cold, stifled irony. He leans back, watching his friends, but his gaze is no longer just relaxed, but tense again, like someone who hears words he doesn't quite like.

"Fall in love?" - He repeats, lowering his voice slightly. "Are you serious?"

Jimin, noticing the change in his tone, instantly stops laughing, although he still tries to keep the conversation going.

"Jungkook, man, I didn't mean to offend you. But you know, she's not the kind of girl you can just take and conquer..." - Jimin says.

Jungkook looks down at the food you brought again, and his fingers tremble slightly as he adjusts plate. He can't help but think about you, and though he tries to keep his cool, every word he hears from his friends seems to add fuel to the fire.

"I meant..." - He says, cutting Jimin off, but there is already a bit of excitement in his voice. "You think I'm just might to fall in love with some girl I can have whenever I want?" - Jungkook stands up, and his gaze is sharper than ever. "Everything will be my way, that's for sure. I always get what I want."

"Yes, Jungkook-ah. We know that, but she doesn't." - Adds Taehyung, who has already realized that the atmosphere has changed. His gaze goes to Jungkook, who looks annoyed.

Taehyung and Jimin exchange glances, realizing that Jungkook is in no mood for jokes.

The three of them remain in silence before Jungkook wants to leave. It wasn't just about you-it was about his own struggle, about the challenge you gave him by not giving in.

"You know what goes on? I have always achieved my goals. And it will be the same with her. She even don’t knew how much I'm willing to do for it." - You can hear the determination in his voice now, and that stubbornness is starting to become even more apparent. Taehyung and Jimin knew that Jungkook was not someone who usually loses. But you don't even realize how much your resistance turns him on.

Meanwhile, as you head outside, you can't shake the thought of what just happened. Your mind is still processing that foolish, desperate moment when you took on all that tension and decided to leave instead of giving in to his manipulations. You feel your heart beating faster again when you think about Jungkook.

You're so annoyed by his behavior, and you realize that it's going to be really hard for you to deal with him during all these days of working on the project.

You try to calm down and sit down on an empty bench in the campus park. It's a beautiful day in March. It's warm outside, you can smell spring in the air, and titmouse’s singing enhances the effect of something unknown that floating in the air.

You are sitting on a bench and looking at your phone. In fifteen minutes, the lecture will start, and you decide that you'll sit outside for the whole time before it.

"Hi Y/N." - You hear a soft, velvety voice. You look up and meet the gaze of Ingkook, your classmate. He's standing next to you, smiling, and his presence seems to immediately fill the space around him with some kind of warm aura.

His hair is perfectly styled and his expression is calm and attentive. He's the guy you've liked since first year. You weren't close friends, but you often talked to him about studies. He did as well in his studies as you did. Perhaps it was because of the many common interests that you felt sympathy for him.

"Why are you sitting here alone?" - He asks, sitting down on the bench next to you. His voice sounds so gentle that even this short greeting seems special. You smile involuntarily.

"Yeah, I just wanted to get some fresh air before lecture start." - You answer, trying not to let your excitement show.

Ingkook glances at the phone in your hand, but doesn't ask what you're doing there. It looks like he appreciates your space. What a contrast between him and Jungkook. You feel like hitting yourself. Why would you compare them?

"How are you?" - He asks, turning his gaze back to you. You give him a quick glance and look down at your hands.

"Everything is fine. But I'm having some difficulties with my project partner." - You say in a veiled manner. In reality, you're in a hell of a lot of trouble with this guy.

"Jungkook." - He says his name. The name which speaks for itself. "Is he being cocky?" - Ingkook asks, knowing exactly who Jungkook is and how he might be acting.

"No." - You say quickly, not wanting to make him look bad. All the more reason to be careful about talking about Jungkook, lest you make it even harder to work with him. "I would say that he doesn't behave in any way. He doesn't show up for class, and that makes it difficult to work on the project." - You explain. Although the reason is deeper than just not being able to work together properly.

"He's always been like this. You know he doesn't need to study. So forget it, do your part of the project and don’t care. The main thing is that you get a score, and don't worry about Jungkook. No one will expel him anyway." - Ingkook says and you smile. He says everything you were actually going to do if Jungkook didn't stop being an asshole.

"Thank you. I'll take your suggestion into consideration." - You say kindly, without saying that you were going do it exactly. Ingkook smiles sweetly, and you are literally mesmerized.

"If he's going to bother you, just tell me and I'll deal with him." - A classmate offers you. You smile even wider. It feels so good to know that someone can stand up for you. But you are the kind of person who can do it yourself. To be honest with Jungkook, you definitely don't need help. You can handle him on your own.

"I'll keep that in mind." - You say. Ingkook gives you gives you a sweet smile.

You sit together on the street for a while and talk about a party that Kim Nara is organizing. Ingkook suggests that you go to this party to take your mind off your studies. You open your mouth to say yes, until you are horrified to see Jungkook walking toward you. You want to curse loudly and dirty, but you restrain yourself.

Jungkook moves confidently, as always, and his gaze is directed directly at you. There's a slight hint of displeasure in his eyes that he's not happy to see you with Ingkook. This sight is definitely not to his liking. But he approaches you with a slight smile on his lips that you think is sarcastic.

"Hi." - Jungkook greets him, extending his hand to shake Ingkook's. He shakes his hand and looks at Jungkook carefully.

"Baby, what are you doing?" - Jungkook asks you, and it sounds like he has some kind of right to you. You are angry, but you control your emotions. You asked him not to call you that. Why does he always do this? Why can't he restrain his impudent nature for once?

"I'm talking to Ingkook." - You answer, trying to keep your temper in check, although everything is boiling inside you.

"Oh, I can see that." - Jungkook replies, smiling his trademark smile, which now looks more like a mockery. He slowly looks around at Ingkook, as if he's assessing him. "Is that why you're ignoring my messages?" - Jungkook asks. You look at your phone in surprise and don't see Jungkook texting you. Only when you go to the kakao talk do you see several messages from him, asking where you are and asking to talk.

"I didn't get a notification for some reason." - You make an excuse. And then you catch yourself thinking about it. You don't have to do this in front of him. "What did you want?" - You say a little sharply. Jungkook looks at you closely.

"I wanted to talk." - He answers. "It's very important." - He says, looking at Ingkook, gesturing for him to leave. Ingkook takes the hint immediately. He gets up from the bench and smiles mysteriously. You look between the two guys and notice some tension. You feel uncomfortable.

"I'm go to lecture." - Ingkook says, turning to you. "I'll see you later." - When Inhoek walks away, Jungkook sits down on the bench, taking his place. He looks at you as if he's just won a battle.

"Why are you acting like this?" - You ask sharply, not hiding your indignation.

"What did I do wrong?" - He asks in an innocent voice, but his eyes betray his true intentions.

"You ruined a normal conversation!" - You reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

"What were you talking about?" - Jungkook asks. He acts as if you just don’t had a fight in the cafeteria. "About Kim Nara's party." - You answer.

"So?" - Jungkook continues to bombard you with questions.

"What do you mean, 'so'?" - You don't understand him.

"Did he want to ask you out?" - Jungkook asks. You look at him with hostility. What the hell does he care?

"What do you want, Jungkook?" - You ignore his question and ask your own. His smile grows wider.

"I said I wanted to talk." - He says, leaning closer to you, sounding like he thinks it's a great idea. You lean to the side, trying to keep your distance.

"Say it, but quickly, I have a lecture coming up. You have five minutes." - You say.

"Oh so little. I hope this will be our the only 5 minutes that we ever have." - He says, and you freeze. Either he was being ambiguous, or you've gone so crazy that you're thinking something else entirely. Why is Jungkook making you feel so obscene?

"Just speak." - You repeat, trying to hide your trepidation.

"I wanted to apologize to you." - He says. You are dumbfounded again. He wants to do what? Have you taken some kind of hallucinatory pill? You turn your eyes back to him and see that he is smiling, but it's a simple, sweet smile that you've never seen on his face before. "Yeah, you didn't hear me. I was an asshole. I'm sorry." - He says, and you just don't know how to react. Does he mean it sincerely? Judging by his expression, yes, it looks sincere. You look away at a tree in the distance and want to smile, but you restrain yourself.

"Yeah, you were an asshole." - You say, agreeing with him. Jungkook laughs softly. "I did what you asked. Next time, make it clearer." - You say. Jungkook smiles even wider, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Oh, so next time I should be more clear?" - His voice sounds playful, and he leans closer, as if testing the limits of your patience. You hum, rolling your eyes.

"Yes or just a next time, don't be an asshole. And anyway, is that all? Because I really have to get to class." - You say. You want to ask him if this is the first time he's ever apologized, but you know, you might hook him and then you'll definitely be late for class.

Jungkook looks at you for a few seconds, as if he's hesitating, and then he abruptly raises his hand and lightly touches a strand of your hair with his fingertips. It's so unexpected that you freeze.

"What are you doing?" - You ask, trying not to let your heart race.

"Just wanted to make sure it was as soft as it looks." - He replies, lowering his hand but not taking his eyes off you. You squint your eyes, trying to understand his intentions. It seems he was trying to pull you into his net.

"Is there anything else you need to check?" - You sneer. Jungkook leans in even closer, so you can even smell his light scent of perfume.

"There is something..." - He whispers, his lips almost to your ear. Your body instantly tenses. "But I think it's going to be more then five minutes." - He adds and pulls away, leaving you completely confused. You blink rapidly, trying to regain your composure.

"You're insufferable." - You grumble, getting up from the bench.

"But you're still here." - He reminds you, smiling defiantly.

"Because you detained me!" - You defend yourself.

"And you like it!" - He throws in.

"Jungkook!" - You shout his name. He laughs quietly and then just throws.

"Go, Sparkly. My five minutes are long gone." - He says. You stand there for a moment, staring at him, and then, without saying anything, you turn around and leave. But you are afraid to admit that he is right. Do you really like it?

⎗ Previous chapter ❘ ☰ Index 𓏧 ❘ Next chapter ⎘

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfction #students au bts

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dannylovesstuff · 4 months ago

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I haven’t seen matcha in this au just yet Soo I decirte draw her ( it a fan made so probably cuppajj had some plan or something like that)

Matcha cookie daughter of midnight Lily

Matcha cookie is the daughter of midnight lily ( as well means she is the princess of the faerie kingdom) she is a very mischievous, tend to ride bit of chaos in the kingdom. Many don’t completely take her seriously to be honest but can be unpredictable at times. Her relationship with her mother is a bit strange it say at least, but do see them talking to each other but mostly being her talking about her antics. Midnight lily was not around much with matcha but do have some type of care for her, same with her adopted brother red velvet who midnight lily found wen she was at the banquet.

(Matcha in general with red velvet is pretty friendly about it. He likes midnight lily tend to be busy but do spend time with her.)

Matcha always had struggles in her place, despite being the daughter of one of the beast she be lonely. She had few time try to socialize a bit but not many stick around, as well couldn’t understand why maybe how she is? The only ones mostly willing to talk be red velvet, the cake hounds and some butterfly’s. ( she’s that lonely to be honest) but another that she speaks to it a cookie in purple armor( it always silent a lot but it a good listener to matcha to talk about her rants and her life )

Midnight lily and matcha alway do tend a bit of fight over some things, some being her antics around the kingdom or something more entirely( maybe some personal issues?). Lily some times bring her to work (if she doesn’t have a choice ) matcha is well aware with the other beast, she don’t talk to them except for saint vanilla. They both seem to have a good friendly relationship ( mostly as well he visits Lily at times too)

Matcha cookie ability’s are same in some way but she’s lot more stronger with her magic. She’s more powerful with the power bestowed by midnight lily, but kinda use it more to do trouble around. (Saint vanilla did teach her some things or two about the thing he knew)

(Maybe in another post if ever make more matcha and new info )

Note I will soon make red velvet so just be a heads up!

(The red boy is there waiting)

Beast ancient au by @cuppajj

#fan art #cookie run kingdom #art #beast ancients au #matcha cookie #red velvet cookie #white lily cookie #midnight lily #the gremlins Is here!

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themeraldee · 4 months ago

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I don't know if you're getting sick of the body type questions, but on one of your most recent asks you said, "It's not that I think that he will be immediately attracted to a larger size. He most certainly will throw all sorts of jabs and sarcastic remarks," and hooooo boy does that fulfill some kind of pathetic fantasy in me. I was wondering if you had any little tastes of like, what that would look like? The idea of being so disgusted with a girl because she doesn't fit his idealized image and slowly melting because she just has a force-of-nature personality that sees into his soul? Sounds great, give me 20.

I'm really just wondering of like, things he would say or think as he's going through it.

Deffo not getting sick of it!!! I read this in the morning and spent the entire day thinking back to this. Still somehow I don't have the perfect answers. I gotta say snappy and clever dialogue is such a weakness of mine that whatever I think of for this probably won't flow how I want it to so excuse that pls 😂

At first he'd treat her with 0 respect, dismissing her like any other office drone whinging in his ear about something they need from him. When her post turns more permanent and she doesn't scurry away at the first sign of discomfort he pushes it further, seeing how much more she can take. It's a lot less about insulting her weight and a lot more about getting under her skin and dealing with his own issues of getting increasingly more attracted to someone with a societally less desirable body.

He looks her up and down before making comments such as:

"I didn't know Vought hired women your size."

"Whew, must be real confident to wear a dress like that."

She has heard it a thousand times, men always just try to get the upper hand, wanting to be the dominant one in the exchange. While there's no question about his power, he acts just like any other man who thinks insulting her weight will magically make her turn skinny.

At first I imagine him ogling her, unabashedly staring at her ass or tits, watching as she walks or bends over. It's less about getting his dick hard and more about the condescending superiority because he feels like he's doing her a favour as according to him, pfft, who else is gonna look at you like that?

But really he always looks forward to her nonchalant responses anytime he tried to jab at her with yet another fat-shaming joke. She so doesn't take him seriously and it's such a nice change of pace that he's hooked on their interactions.

"Cookies today, huh? Still not had enough?"

"No actually, I brought some for you. The team had too many leftover so I thought I'd share."

"Well it's not like you need anymore." He's so caught off guard by the nice gesture that he has no choice but to default to more rude remarks.

"Just eat the damn cookie." He relishes in the way she shakes her head, rolling her eyes with a tiny hint of a smile.

---

"What in the christ are you drinking now? What kind of calorie bomb is that, it smells fucking awful."

"It's literally just a matcha latte, it's actually a little bitter - want to try some?"

And it's the little remarks or acknowledgements she sends back his way that get him a little too riled up. Because she has no issues with 'standing up' to him. Oops suddenly he's ogling her for a whole different reason. Jaw clenching, head swimming with thoughts of parting her soft thighs and feeling them squeeze around his head—

Until he's the one actively seeking her company because she's a breath of fresh air and doesn't cower in front of him. And he wants her so fucking bad. She offers companionship when nobody else is willing to have an entertaining conversation. It reaally doesn't take long for him to be desperate to be held by her soft body and have her words softly whispered in his ear.

#I hope that answered your question #but I do apologize for not providing good snappy dialogue #my brain just can't figure it out #it's fine in the scene but on the spot I'm just drawing blanks 😂#homelander x reader #plus size!reader #asks!

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kiasnocturnality · 1 year ago

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Which one of your characters has a thing for (consensual) hypno during sex? How would they react to their s/o asking them to be hypnotized? 👀

✩⋆ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: alois leblanc, desdemona nausikáa, va'ariniel ninelhuinn-taezerilen, taruqu'inel taezerilen 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: hehe this sounded fun <3 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, smut, hypno kink, dubcon

. * ⋆ . · 　. ALOIS LEBLANC

✭ context is what matters most to this vampire. He finds it rather dull to hypnotise you if you're just together in bed like any other night. He'd much rather know you're giving yourself to him of your own will and desire.

✭ however, if you've decided to initiate a chase, he'll love to hypnotise you once he gets close enough. He wants to see the foggy confusion as you forget why you were running at all and start to stumble as though sleepwalking straight into his arms. He'll weaken his hold over your mind once he's securely squeezing you close to him with a fanged grin.

✭ "Oh? Have you had a change of heart, my sunlight~?"

. * ⋆ . · 　. DESDEMONA NAUSIKÁA

✭ oh she'll love to do it. Desdemona has the most powerful hypnosis out of everyone here and can completely override your will with just a spoken word. But she won't just agree to it, oh no. She'll stay completely silent while you beg for it.

✭ She wants to prove that you're so desperate to be under her control even without her persuading you to feel such a way. She's smile at you with her black cherry lips as you kneel at her feet. Maybe she'll even reach out and stroke your cheek with her knuckles just to let you know when you're starting to do a good enough job of begging.

✭ "That's my sweet little thing... you'll listen to every word I say, won't you? You need my commands more than anything else in the world..."

. * ⋆ . · 　. VA’ARINIEL

✭ Va'ari knows she's a bit of a control freak and that extends to the bedroom too when she's not in the mood to just unwind and be the one getting pampered; so, you catch her interest when you suggest she mesmerise you in bed.

✭ she'll agree but she won't do it right away, oh no. She'll wait until she's settled between your thighs with her fingers curling up to rub against your sweet spot each time she pistons her two fingers in and out of your sticky pussy. She only needs to make eye contact with you to mesmerise you and so, just as you're on the verge of orgasm...

✭ "look at me, sweetheart. There you go~ don't look away... don't cum. You're not allowed to cum until I say so~"

. * ⋆ . · 　. TARUQU’INEL

✭ Taru... isn't actually all that into it. You're his piece of truth in his charade of a life and he wants to always see you as your most authentic self, never being pupeteered the way he is every day.

✭ though, it does give him another idea... for a split second, he mesmerises you and claims he's changed his mind, letting that warm and fuzzy feeling fall over you to lure him into believing he's keeping your mind hostage. Between slow, firm thrusts into your warm walls, he kisses and nibbles your ear as he asks you filthy questions and you answer honestly each time, believing you're being made to do so.

✭ "Look at how filthy you are... moaning all these dirty answers out f'me..." He laughs lowly, "And you haven't even been mesmerised at all..."

𓋼𓍊⋆ﾟ like my work? why not: ⋆ support me ⋆ join my taglist ⋆ follow/reblog

@writing-noah @edensrose @indigobl00d @dustyinkpages @itseivwhore @matcha-flavored-cake @axtrr @aetheriial @shusumilk @black-rose-29 @asianbutnotjapanese @gojohater101 @starrynights-frostbites @cherrykisses0607 @sarah22447 @generalpuppeh @thefreefencer @midromiell

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signedeclipse · 2 years ago

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Requests open! Yay! I'd like to request a oneshot with Hantengu: reader, a human, ends up somehow protecting/saving the scared little guy (from the sun, perhaps?) and he is now Attached and kinda crushing, living in their house, and tries to make a move but is just way too scared. So he does what any good demon would do: gets bashful and rips his head off so his clones can make a move for him. Surprise now there's four guys with a Big Crush and they're not quite so cute about it anymore (not that reader complains). Hope this request finds you well and thanks for being super rad! ❤️

All For You [Hantengu X Reader]

Reader is Human Female | Romance | Part 2 HERE Final HERE

Recomended Song - Cheri Cheri Lady by Modern Talking

In such a terrifying battle, he hadn't realised that despite killing the hashira, they had stranded him in a field with no shade and the sun was just moments away. He could run, but he didn't have much power remaining, so all he could do was try.

Even as he cried and wailed, he could hear what he could only assume was another member of the corps catching up to him, taking advantage of how little he had left in him.

If he needed to, he could surely muster just one more strike-

He could feel a burning heat on his back, causing a squeal, before it all stopped, and two arms fell in front of him, which he ran into and fell back into the grass.

Whimpering, the upper-rank shielded his face, waiting for some kind of attack, only to hear the rigorous panting of the being that had caught him.

Shakily, his hands moved from his face, gazing up to see that someone was on their elbows and knees, shielding him from the sun.

"Aren't you supposed to be hidden from the sun?" A head dipped down, looking curiously at the small being. You were just going for a stroll since you hadn't been able to sleep, and after hearing a loud commotion all you found was a weak, stranded demon.

The being shakily waited to see your movements, taking the chance to replenish itself. Hantengu had nowhere to run, unless he wanted to try digging.

"Well, I'm sure we can work this out." When your hand reached to him, he crouched and moved his hands to protect his head, which didn't stop you from hiding him in the thick cloth of your woollen cloak, which you had used to protect yourself from the cold spring air.

What was this human thinking? Hantengu pondered the implications, though realised if you were so certain about taking him in, he could always kill you when you got to shelter and he would be free once more. Besides, doing so now would be a waste with the sun around, and since the fabric surrounding him was so soft, warm, and smelt so, so enticing.

With the distraction hidden in your coat and your rushed jog back to your hidden home beyond the forest line and up a hill, you never looked back to catch a glimpse at the body left behind.

Before daring to remove him, you had shut all your blinds so little to no light peaked in, and turned on the light in your home yourself.

When he finally crawled out of your cloak of his own accord, which you had laid on the table and waited for him, his eyes scattered and landed on objects he deemed of importance.

One, a nichirin blade hung on the wall.

Two, a demon slayer corps uniform hanging beside your other garments on a rack.

And three, a portrait of a blue spider lily, one he recognized from one of Muzan's books.

Clearly, you were no normal human, you were a part of the corps. So then why weren't you dressed up and killing him? Perhaps you were going to try to reason with him, like many idiots had tried.

"Ah, you're finally awake."

Of course, he also noticed you sitting in a chair leant up against a wall, just a gust of wind away from it slipping and you falling. But you remained balanced for now.

"You don't have to worry, I won't harm you. I'm just trying to figure out why you haven't harmed me, is all!" In your hands was a cup of tea, which, when you sipped, left a line of green matcha on your lips. It disappeared when you took yet another sip, and set the cup down beside him.

"To be honest, chasing after you really exhausted me, so I think I better head to bed now. You can leave if you'd like should you find a way, but feel free to stay as long as you like."

With that, you left the cowering demon in the nest of a cloak, closing the sliding door to the other half of the cabin where your futon was. Hantengu watched as the lights in the room went out.

You awake early in the afternoon, having achieved a quarter of a day's rest.

Unfortunately serenity was not in the picture, for the moment you opened the sliding door you nearly fell back on your ass upon seeing a fully grown man sitting on one of two cushions by the low table, his hands neatly folded in his lap.

He looked to be asleep sitting, but you knew from experience that it was less akin to sleep, and more of a hibernation tactic demons had during the day.

Only now did a shiver run sharp down your spine, the intense energy surrounding the being only now just hitting you. You must have been so exhausted yesterday that none of it registered.

Limping towards your food prepping station, you picked up a wooden bucket, getting ready to retrieve water for your breakfast. Your leg was acting up again, perhaps you shouldn't have overexerted yourself hours prior.

Once you made movement towards the door, the being sat up semi-straight, red eyes glowing similar to the lanterns scattering the room. He looked to be moving away from you, but stopped when he analysed you as familiar.

You, on the other hand, nearly dropped the bucket upon reading the kanji in his eyes.

When he was small last night, you hadn't noticed. I mean, you were also tired and, god, what have you gotten yourself into?

Not even a low rank, he was upper rank four, god, your heart quickened to a point where you knew he'd notice. Sure, you were a member of the corps, but you'd been on leave for months now since you almost lost your leg, and you were still recovering!

Not only that, but you could count the number of demons you'd killed on one hand, being only a Mizunoe.

Despite these facts, he seemed to be more afraid of you than you had been of him, and you were never that good at hating demons, so you just meekly pointed to the pail.

"I'm going to fetch some water, but I'll be back soon."

Closing the door behind you, your hand met with the cloth over your heart, gripping it as if your life depended on it, trying to slow your heart rate and push forwards.

'What the fuck, what the hell do I even do?' With every heavy step, a lighter one followed as you tried not to put too much pressure on it, approaching the water pump and putting your bucket under it.

Sucking in a breath, you grabbed onto the lever and pushed down, letting it slowly inch up before repeating the process, letting the sputtering first gushes of muddy water spray out until a steady stream formed, which you kicked the bucket under to collect.

Your crow wouldn't be back for a week since it was retrieving medicine, if you could stall and keep him trapped here then maybe your crow could eventually get help! But you'd have to make it for, at the very least, a week.

Removing your calloused hands from the pump handle, you picked up the bucket with far more care than before, assuring yourself you wouldn't spill.

You'd just have to do it, because there was no fighting in your condition, and if he was that much of a threat he surely would have lunged at you while you slept, right?

"So, what's your name?" Your hearth had a burning fire below it, water boiling away as you added sugar and rice, covering it entirely and setting the pot aside so it could cook. The entire time, his eyes had been trained on you, flinching at every loud sound such as a ladle hitting the cast iron of your pot.

"M...me?" His voice broke as he spoke, though when you nodded he cleared it, "Hantengu."

"Han-teng-ou...!" You played the syllables out, as if testing how the name would taste, before pointing to yourself.

"Well, I'm y/n, but you can call me anything you want really. I have a feeling you won't be leaving anytime soon, so try to keep it non demeaning." You joked, though he seemed to take it seriously, nodding vigorously.

When your rice pudding was complete, you scooped a ball of it into a separate spoon, offering it to the demon. You knew they didn't eat human food often, but you figured you should act as clueless as you could.

Much to your surprise, Hantengu ate it, though you could tell he didn't like it by how harshly he swallowed. You giggled, taking the kindness of the demon into consideration, he must have done it not to hurt your feelings, which was relatively cute!

Even as the sun dipped below the horizon, Hantengu never left, instead enjoying your company, and as nights came and went, you found that every morning he'd be there, already preparing the hearth or with water ready for you. You'd become so used to the schedule, you never noticed that your crow hadn't returned, only interested in getting along with the demon.

On one summer evening, as the leaves had fully grown on the trees and the summer heat began to settle in, you'd been cleaning up the home while Hantengu came back in with firewood, stretching his legs now that the sun had gone down.

All the windows were wide, allowing any breeze in to help with the head, and you fanned yourself off with your hand.

"I'm really glad I picked you up, I never realised how lonely it was out here." You spoke up the moment he entered as if it had been on your mind for some time.

Hantengu always listened closely, having long forgotten his plan of ever so much as laying a scratch on you. You'd been nothing but kind to him, and had always treated him better than anyone he had met in his life. It would suffice to say the demon adored you, but he would never say it.

Your words stunned him entirely, which made him gaze down at the floor, hiding the expression of endearment on his face.

"I built this place far from any villages with the help of a few other corps members, but after that I never saw them again. I just didn't want to be anywhere demons would be, because if I was home I wanted to feel safe. But it's pure solitude. You've made it so much better."

Your head had begun to droop, moments from leaning on his shoulder, before the demon squealed and tumbled to the other side of the room, panting. You had become fully alert now, holding your hands out in a panic.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you--!"

Despite your apologies, the being shook, seemingly muttering to himself with both hands clawing at his heads, before in one swift motion he tore his head from his body, blood splashing along the walls and quickly disintegrating.

Mouth agape, you stared in horror as a transformation began, carefully inching towards the blade on your wall. The head rolled on the floor, before regenerating a new body that resembled a much younger demon, entirely shirtless. He caught himself easily, and sprung up on his feet in mere seconds.

The body, on the other hand, changed heavily in appearance until a head popped from the torso, similar red eyes glowing, though they were a more saturated cherry red compared to the Hantengu you knew.

"Ahah! Finally~ A vessel of my own..." Snapping your head back to the other, he was now crouched down, green eyes staring at you with a shimmer of interest.

Despite this, the other one walked behind his duplicate, barely giving you enough time to react to the fact that your companion was entirely renewed, and tore his head off once more, much to the dissatisfaction of the green eyed being, which the green eyed one reacted by ripping the others arm off.

They replenished themselves in seconds, though the two loose limbs quickly multiplied once more, introducing a sulking blue eyed demon, and what looked like a man-bird-thing.

"It never gets any easier..." A soft voice came from the blue eyed individual, of which you caught a kanji on his tongue which read 'sorrow'.

Shivering in the corner, the four seemed to bicker with each other for what you wished was much longer, before their full attention was on your cowering form in the corner.

Oh, how ironic it was, you and Hantengu had entirely switched places, if you could call these beings such a title.

You just hoped they liked you as much as he had.

"Don't you have better things to do than stare?" The red-eyed one hissed, though with malice or anticipation you couldn't entirely pick out. Despite his near-hostility, the showy one crawled forwards, reaching out a clawed hand to hold your chin, pushing it up to meet his eyes.

'Uppermoon Four' It was the same as Hantengu, but they acted so differently, or perhaps to his extremes?

While you were lost in your thoughts, the demon hissed a laugh, enjoying the empty look beyond your curious eyes that scanned him over.

"Before you call me anything I'm not, how about we start with Karaku, unless you prefer 'man of your dreams' better?" The tips of his nails pushed into your skin, but not nearly close enough to damage you. Oh no, he wouldn't dare do such a thing to his doll.

Karaku was promptly pulled back by the claws of a bird foot, which led to the tumbling forward of a very, very strange being, whose wings quickly blocked your view of all others and forced your eyes to gaze into his yellow ones, though he only grinned.

"Look what you've done, making big bad demons go falling for your stupidity, you're lucky you're so damned pretty!" Once he got his word in, he backed off as the other called him by his name strictly, allowing the two remainders to stand before you, gazing down.

You caught the name Urogi, and hoped you caught right, being hoisted to your feet by the hands of a very rough being, the one most similar to Hantengu, though the blue-eyed one placed his hand on your back, keeping you from moving back and providing little comfort.

"You poor thing, you must have no idea what’s going on..." Pity seeped from the sorrow demon, though he muttered his name to you shortly after.

'Aizetsu.' You repeat to yourself mentally, almost leaning into his hand, which moved slowly up and down as if he was giving a futile attempt at comforting you. The one holding your wrist in a vice-like grip only grumbled, seemingly irritated at nothing.

"Sekido."

"S...sekido...?" He only huffed in annoyance at your confirmation, as if it was stupid that you'd even thought of his name in the first place. You hadn't noticed how badly you were shaking until the tremors of the table met your ears, and your heart was skipping beats left and right.

"I- I don't," your voice paused, daring to reach forward, cupping Sekido's cheek, "aren't you?"

The loss of words seemed to amuse Karaku and Urogi, who erupted in giggles and grinned respectively. You were adorable, all your confidence sapped as if anything had changed.

"Yes, and no~" Urogi piped up, tilting his head to get a better look at you from where he was sitting, since Sekido's arm was in the way.

As Sekido dragged you back to your room, you watched Aizetsu carefully close your front door and lock it, each pair of eyes staring at you from the darkness of your living room, shining with light.

Looks like you'd have to make room for four more.

Author Note - Okay this is the longest oneshot I have every written on here, and I couldn't even fully finish it!! So kind of a cliff hanger but I got to every point so win! I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for requesting! This req inspired me sm <3

Shoutout to @mister-gooday1 who actually beta reads all of my oneshots I post because I would die if I had to do it myself xoxo

Word Count - 2,669

Art Credit - Hira_Daphne (twitter)

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