#this got stuck in my head and I had to get it out

[sooniebby]

Recently into the idea of reader getting eaten out on a motorcycle by a racer. Smut Drabble. Little plot then straight to smut.

Bottom Trans male reader . Use of cunt/pussy,clit, cock, and hole. Characters name are Thai (in case you’re confused). P’(name) is for someone older, Nong (Name) is for someone younger.

“Are we supposed to be here?”

“Shh, just act natural.”

You were dumb, but that’s something your friend, Som, had gotten used to. He whispered a quick prayer to Phra Siam Devadhiraj before following you into the illegal street race. Whoever was holding the race had to have been a man of power since it was being held right in Bangkok, near to a highway.

The highway was even closed down for the specific race. Som wondered if he should pray again as he watched you slip past a group of bodyguards.

“I still don’t get why you needed to come here…” Som whispered, shaking his head.

You grinned. “Listen, P’Krist mentioned something about this yesterday!”

“You managed to talk to him?”

You were silent as you stared at Som with a straight face.

“You spied on him again, huh?”

“Anyway!” You started, standing on your toes as you began looking around. “He has to be around here… maybe he’s a racer?!” You giggled, imaging your crush in a racer suit.

“Or he could just be a spectator…”

“Nah, P’Krist is too cool for that.”

“This still doesn’t make any sense. You aren’t gonna speak to him anyway. You turn into a deer in headlights when he even walks near you.”

“It’s different this time! He’ll see me,” you pointed at your outfit, dressed in a tight leather pants and with a see-through tank top. “Then he’ll jump my bones and I’ll finally fulfill my dream of semi-public sex.” You nodded to yourself, a perfect plan.

“You’re insane.”

“Don’t cramp on my style, Som. You’re just jealous I’ll be having kinky sex soon while you’re stuck with plain vanilla bean sex!”

Som sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I think you should just be realistic, for your own good.” He did start looking around for Krist, because he wanted you to be happy either way. “I don’t think P’Krist is as cool as you make him out to be.”

“You just don’t get.” You simply muttered.

“Mhm,” Som pulled out his phone, seeing his boyfriend was calling him. “Hold on. Bank is calling me.”

“Oh tell him I said hey!”

“Hey, hey, stay where I can see you!” Som immediately called out, ignoring your pout as he answered the phone. “Bank? Why aren’t you studying?”

You yawned, unable to stop yourself from shivering as you curled into yourself.

“Are you new here?”

You glanced over and came face to face with a racer. Judging by the fact he was still wearing his helmet for some reason. He was dressed surprisingly casual, just a leather jacket, blue jeans, and a white beater.

“Huh?” You whispered, “how could you tell?”

A muffle chuckle left his lips as he tilted his head. “Well, I’d remember a cute face like yours.”

Your brain stopped as you blinked multiple times. That only got another laugh from the racer as he pointed at Som not too far from you.

“That your boyfriend?”

“Ah! No! A friend. Uh, he’s talking to his boyfriend right now.” You managed to say, glancing back at Som. He looked engrossed in his conversation with Bank.

The racer hummed. “I’m going to race in a hour, I thought I could get some encouragement from a special someone.”

You raised an eyebrow, suddenly shivering again. “What type of encouragement?”

He reached a gloved hand up to his helmet, his movement slow as he pushed it upward. You gulped as his face was revealed, a Cheshire like smirk already on his lips. His eyes reminded you of a tiger, his gaze set only on you as he leaned down.

“You know what type, only reason why you’d wear something like that here.” His free hand tugged at your shirt as you flinched from his touch. The cool material from his gloves felt like it burned.

Look, you’ve been a virgin for too long now. You haven’t even held hands with someone romantically. Sure, Som would certainly scold you later but this guy was hot.

Besides, Krist shouldn’t be bothered if you dated around, he had multiple partners before you.

The racer seemed to immediately know your thought process as his grin widen, holding his hand out. You hesitated just a for a moment as you glanced back at Som. He was still talking to Bank. He has your phone location, it’ll be fine.

You grabbed the racer’s hand and gave him a shy nod. He squeezed your hand, almost noticing your nerves as he led you just a few feet away from Som.

It was behind a big truck where a motorcycle sat. You wished you knew more about motorcycles to properly appreciate it but it still looked fancy in your eyes. The racer placed his helmet on the handle as he patted the seat.

“Sit.”

You blinked, glancing up at him. “Here?”

“Mhm, sit.” He stepped back, waiting for you. You finally took in his facial features more, messy black hair, full eyebrows and a long nose. Hm…. You pushed the thought of riding his nose out your head.

Wait.

“Ah,” you whispered, suddenly remembering what you weren’t packing in your pants. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.. but I don’t have, y’know, a dick.”

The racer shrugged. “Okay.”

“That’s okay?”

“I don’t care. You’re still a man. Sit down already, I only have thirty minutes.”

You glanced around before simply sitting down. The racer smirked, shaking his head. He pushed your legs apart as his he gripped the belt hoop of your pants.

“You were supposed to take off your pants first, Nangfa.” He popped open your button, pulling them down. You couldn’t help but giggle at the nickname. As his free hand gripped your waist to bring you off the bike just a bit, allowing the pangs to slide down.

“Hm, maybe your shoes as well.” He suddenly said, pulling off your sneakers once he noticed the pants got stuck. You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling less nervous. Once you were finally free from your shoes and pants, he gazed down between your legs.

You felt your cheeks flush as you fought the urge to close your legs.

“Black panties?”

“I couldn’t wear boxers, they were uncomfortable with the pants.” You muttered, already remembering the battle it took to even pull the pants up. Gosh that was gonna be a pain in the ass after this.

Your body flinched when he touched your inner thigh. He gazed up at you and smirked, “you can always tell me to stop, do you have a safe word?”

“Can’t I just say stop?” You whispered.

“That works.” He hummed, zeroing in on your underwear. You bit your lip as he gripped the soft material, slowly pulling them down your thighs.

You leaned back on the bike, the truck acting as a barrier and something to hold you up. The racer tugged off his gloves and carelessly tossed them to ground, his now free hands gripping your thighs. You shrieked as he pulled you closer, your legs now resting on his shoulders.

“It’s unfair I only have less than thirty minutes. That’s not enough to worship this,” he leaned in, a tiny peck on your clit. Your hips stuttered as he brought his hand down, prying your pussy open.

He wasted no more time as he immediately dived in, his lips circling around your clit. A silent scream escaped you as you gripped at the bike seat. His tongue slipped between your folds as his finger began to rub your clit in a painstakingly slow motion.

Your toes curled as you bit into your fist, legs only able to clamp close on his head. He made no attempt to slow down or even let you breathe, bringing his hand down to slip in two fingers.

“You can be loud,” he whispered, pressing wet kisses on your lower stomach, his fingers thrusting into your cunt. “They won’t hear you over the screaming.” As if on cue, the spectators began screaming, the race from before must be coming to an end.

The racer immediately took advantage of that as he suckled your cock, his fingers picking up the pace as they stretched your hole. You couldn’t hold back as you let out a scream. He was right, your cries blended in with the crowd quite easily.

“Can’t… can’t do it…” you whined before your eyes closed, your back arching as a silent whine left your lips. The racer didn’t stop as he quickly pressed his lips on your cunt, his thumb rubbing your clit. A whimper escaped you just as your legs shook, your pussy clamped down on his fingers before it began to squirt.

He didn’t pull away, still sucking you as you reached your orgasm. It wasn’t until you began to whine from the overstimulation that he finally pulled away. His lower half of his face was drenched as he nonchalantly wiped it clean with his shirt.

“Nangfa,” he said, delivering a teasing slap to your cunt as you cried out in shock, quickly clapping your legs close. “Relax. Call your friend over to help you, I have to go get ready.” He grabbed his gloves and helmet, giving you a grin.

“Ngh… what about you..?” You whispered, realizing that he hadn’t even gotten underdressed at all. It almost looked like he didn’t do anything.

“I’m good.” He simply shrugged. “This was just a good luck ritual, though….” He leaned down, his nose bumping into yours. “I think you’re my favorite yet—you taste sweet. Perfect fuel.”

“Fuel?” You blinked, finally starting to gain the motor function to stand up. Your thighs were wet from the cum that managed to escape his mouth. And much to your fear, the seat was wet as well.

“Yea,” he slipped on his gloves, “better than any other cock I’ve ever sucked. You must eat a lot of fruits.” The sound of a cell phone caught your attention as he pulled it out from his pocket. “Oop, that’s the big boss. Better go, Nangfa.”

Just as he made the attempt to move you suddenly realized he was leaving his bike.

“Hey!! You’re forgetting your bike!” You called out.

He glanced back and smirked, “it’s not my bike, it’s Krist’s. See you, Nong (Name).”

You blinked. Wait how’d he know your name?

And what did he mean this was Krist’s bike…? Did he…?

Before you could fully panic any further, you finally noticed your phone had been blowing up. You quickly kneeled down and pulled out your phone from the pants pocket. You silently prayed for your safety before answering the call.

“(Name) Opas Phanuwat, what do you think ‘stay where I can see you’ means?”

I think I want to make this a full fic, but I’ll probably have to do a cis male reader for that… people get weird when it comes trans male reader, fml .

Nangfa นางฟ้า — means angel

Taglist: @the-ultimate-librarian @star-3214 @castocipher @secretivemessenger @mooncarvers-world @cherry-blossoms-187 @kiiyoooo @iwishtobeacrow @tehyunnie @tomoeroi @love-kha1 @remdayz @ofclyde @mello-life25 @yuzuukix @anchoredphoenix @m00n-b4b3 @ning1e @roi-henri-xxii @chill-guy-but-cooler @rhetorical-conscience

[oikarma]

sports car

pairing: lando norris x piastri!reader

summary: the one where lando gets outed for having a crush on his teammate's little sister.

a/n: bro it's been stuck in my head for a solid week now

liked by vogue and others

yourinstagram my vogue beauty secrets tutorial is out 🪽 all products used are linked below! thank you so much for this opportunity, was insane to me when i was informed of it and still very much is!

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user1 not fair. why is everyone on insta a freaking model

user2 where's the gold necklace from? thanks queen love you <3

yourinstagram it's from brandname brandname 😉 y/n piastri repping our gear? this calls for a c...o...l...l...a........

user3 drop the skincare routine too

user4 y/n are you ever going to a grand prix?

user5 she was at oscar's f1 debut user4 yeah but never again user4 she shouldn't be too busy as a part-time influencer like

vogue we're so glad you agreed 🤍

yourinstagram kisses!

user6 my gf (real)

user7 wait. wait. why is a vogue beauty secrets video title the way i find out y/n is a formula 1 driver's sister?

user8 well tbf she doesn't usually use her full name, probably not to seem like she's mooching off his success yk user9 no girl you're good i realized that a month ago when someone posted an edit of her and tagged it with her full name

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liked by mclaren and others

yourinstagram best brother 🧡 yay points

tagged: oscarpiastri

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user1 she took the comments about her not showing up to his races personally

user2 wait. y/n is his sister?? user3 oscar you thought you ate

user4 forget f1 drivers i want THIS GIRL

user5 hope you had fun !! thank you for taking a photo with me and my friends liked by yourinstagram

yourinstagram i did and i hope you did too 🫶 no worries, you both were v polite and absolutely stunning user6 she's so sweet aww

oscarpiastri I think this is your first post without any selfies. Congrats.

yourinstagram are we not partially the same people yourinstagram i thought you were smart? oscarpiastri I don't think that's how it works.

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lando on the move

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user1 i was not familiar with your game

user2 lando whoreizz more like? dang.

user3 I AM GOING FERAL NO ONE CAN HOLD ME BACK

user4 wait guys y/n piastri liked this 😭

user5 i pray the next time i accidentally make an idiot of myself on live stream my crush will notice me too user6 lmaooo help

user7 who are you posing for? y/n?

oscarpiastri Attention whore yourinstagram the girls are fighting!! user8 this cannot be real. polite piastri just called his teammate an attention whore user9 y/n u are so real for that

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fentybeauty Y/N Piastri is the new face of Fenty Beauty. @/yourinstagram

tagged: yourinstagram

user1 i just want to be a nepo baby.

user2 well y/n isn't really a nepo baby user3 nepo sister? user4 most of her image is built around her as js herself i think it's only recently (after her appearance at a gp) that people realized she was oscar piastri's sister cause they don't look alike and she usually only goes by y/n

user5 STUNNERRR

user6 am allowing myself to be influenced

user7 be so fr right now what is lando doing in the likes

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liked by oscarpiastri and others

lando austin, tx

tagged: oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell

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user1 oscar? in a cowboy hat? oh i folded my ovaries exploded i swore i was wearing clothes

lando i think you've got a fan, mate @/oscarpiastri oscarpiastri That's very kind of you

user2 the only time america serves

user3 is when a fucking brit comes over user4 live laugh love lando

user5 good luck at COTAS!! papaya army will be cheering for you *liked by lando

user6 soooo lando have you shot your shot yet?

user7 pardon? user6 i mean has he officially tried to hit on y/n yet user7 no way. she's too nonchalant to date him. piastri siblings do be the coolest crushes fr

mclaren see you, sheriff

lando this town ain't big enough for us two

user8 love to see oscar hanging out w landos friend group

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liked by oscarpiastri and others

yourinstagram you taste like the 4th of july

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user1 Y/NNN ARE YOU GOING TO COTAS??

user2 she must be i don't think she's ever been to the us before user3 queen y/n in mclaren paddock i'm calling it

user4 hold up am i reaching but lando posted burger joint milkshakes and she posted a burger joint and

user5 i really hate to break your bubble but there's literally no evidence to suggest they were at the SAME burger joints user6 its america its all fast food.

user7 so stunningg

oscarpiastri So you ignore your debts and post instagrams

yourinstagram what debt 😭 i paid for your concert tickets no?? oscarpiastri I paid for my concert tickets yourinstagram well we paid for each other's concert tickets yourinstagram you're jokign right do you hate me that much oscarpiastri I just wanted you to respond to me yourinstagram okay 😔 sorry brotha

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yourinstagram came to support the fam

tagged: mclaren, oscarpiastri, lando

mclaren we are so glad you did 🧡

yourinstagram the teddy is so cute i'll sleep with it every night! tysm for the wonderful welcome user1 aww

oscarpiastri I'm emotional now. Get me a tissue, please. I can't believe my sister cares about me.

yourinstagram the combination of perfect punctuation and capitalization really hit the mark. user2 he's so silly user3 oscar bfr you're glad she's finally started coming to ur races often

lando am i the fam

yourinstagram gosh i hope we're not related that would make it weird user4 well you guys are pretty close to alabama liked by yourinstagram user4 HELP??

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liked by mclaren and others

lando soon.

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user1 ? soon ? as in ? coming soon ?

user2 bro if he looked at me like that

user3 oscar can you explain your boyfriend's cryptic captions

yourinstagram soon.

user4 HELLO? user5 did she just acknowledge his existence user6 tf you mean soon girl lando soon. yourinstagram soon. lando soon. user7 they need help oscarpiastri You see what I have to put up with every day of my life?

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liked by tatemcrae and others

yourinstagram i think you know what this is

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user1 y/n and tate?

user2 the crossover we never knew we needed

user3 WAITTT YK HOW TATE HAS HER NEW MV AND SHE'S TEASING A MCLAREN DRIVER WHAT IF OSCAR OR LANDO'S DATING HER??

user4 i like the way your mind works user5 that's so awkward for her lol if it's oscar "cool you're shagging my brother" user6 or maybe it's lando probably? because he posted soon on his instagram user7 but doesn't lando have a crush on y/n? or is it not confirmed user8 girl idk

user9 baddieeees

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liked by tatemcrae and others

yourinstagram SPORTS CAR.

everybody say THANK YOU TATIANA ♡ seriously, what did i deserve to get to know her? she has put out a killer album, danced her ass off in stilettos, and did so during a non-stop tour. now she's starting another one. respect, a whole cartload of it.

but a little recap: obviously, tate wanted a driver in her music video about a SPORTS CAR. lando's team was up for it. tate (being respectful, she literally had no reason to do this whatsoever except for that fact that she's an amazing person and so very considerate) asked me to film it with lando instead. for "chemistry' and blah but again, THANK YOU TATIANA we say in unison.

hope you enjoy the music video and the song!

tagged: lando, tatemcrae

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tatemcrae there was no need to write a whole paragraph but i appreciate your recognition ♥️ considering an acting career anytime? love you loads

yourinstagram while the answer is yes, unfortunately i don't think anyone else will be considering it for me 🤪 tatemcrae also you fine asf yourinstagram u too bae rahhh user1 i love them sm

user2 that's so nice of her

user3 like i'm sure y/n would've been fine with her but giving up an MV for an actor's gf is crazy user4 i mean...it paid off. the chemistry is INSANE user5 need a man to hold me how lando holds y/n

user6 oscar jack piastri, how are you holding up?

oscarpiastri Have been avoiding the video. Have not been entirely successful. user7 LMAO poor boy lando sorry mate oscarpiastri You're not sorry in the slightest yourinstagram just close your eyes

lando thank you tatiana for orchestrating a music video for me and my girlfriend you're the goat

tatemcrae i think you're just glad you got to hard launch her this way, but you're welcome user8 y/n never called him her boyfriend BUT GUYS THiS iS CONFIRMATION THEY ARE DATING lando yes i'm her boyfriend she's my girlfriend. in case the making out and monkey business did not make that clear! user9 "monkey business" i cant anymore with him ✋

lando @/yourinstagram mommy? sorry-mommy? sorry-

yourinstagram shameless, i tell you. shameless. do it again.

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a/n: WE CAN UH-UH IN IT

[themissinghand]

Genshin Impact Marked by the Sea

Summary: In which Neuvillette is your soft husband, a loving one with some dragon tendencies. 

or, here are snippets of a domestic dragon husband. 

Pairing: Neuvillette x GN! Reader! 

Note: Going through my drafts and yes, I had a Genshin phase

Warning: Lots of fluff >.< because we love our hydro dragon sovereign. 

★・・・・・・★

“You’re staring again,” you murmur sleepily.

Every morning, you wake up to long white messy hair on your face and sometimes, even purrs coming from your beloved husband. 

Neuvillette tightens his arms around your waist. 

“I’m simply…appreciating.”

“You’re very clingy for someone who acts like the world’s most composed man in public,” you tease, turning in his arms.

He presses his face into your neck. 

“You’re the only place I feel at peace.”

Your fingers comb gently through his hair.

A soft whine escapes him. 

“Stay with me a little longer.”

“Love, you have to go now.” You managed to sit up and let out a small yawn. You eyed the clock, and realized that it’s time to get ready for the day. 

“Must we get up?”

Neuvillette’s voice was muffled against your hip, arms still around your waist.

You laughed, gently tugging him upright. 

“You’re the Chief Justice. Pretty sure pajamas aren’t court-appropriate.”

You quickly pull him out of bed and help him wash his face and teeth. Help him clean up and look like the respectable Chief Justice everyone knows. 

He blinked at you, bleary-eyed, letting you button his shirt. 

“Now arms up.”

He obeyed, now a bit more awake, but his head thunk on your shoulder. 

“You’re too good to me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you teased, guiding him to the kitchen.

He sat, still drowsy, while you went to make a quick breakfast. His eyes lit up the moment he saw the carefully packed lunch.

“You made soup again…” he murmured, picking up his spoon. 

“You know me too well.”

You peck his cheek.

“Someone has to make sure you eat something that isn’t stressful.”

Neuvillette caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I don't know I would do without you.” You raised a brow. 

“Dramatic.”

“Truthful,” he said, giving you that soft look that made your chest ache. 

“I’d be lost without you.”

You poured him water, leaning in close. 

“Good thing I’m not going anywhere then.”

He hummed, content, and smiled softly.

“Thank you.”

The courtroom echoed with voices, petitions, disputes, and lies dressed as truths.

Neuvillette listened, silent and unreadable as always, yet the weight of it pressed heavily on him today.

Humans, no feelings are difficult to understand for Neuvillette. 

During a short break, he retreated to his office. He didn’t expect peace, but when he opened the simple wooden box you'd prepared for him that morning, the tightness in his chest eased.

Carefully arranged: poached fish, soup, soft rice, steamed greens. And nestled beside it, a folded note.

“Don't forget to eat. And breathe. I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

You’d drawn a little doodle of him, half-asleep with his hair floofed.

He stared at it for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile touched his lips.

He took a bite of the fish. Light, clean. Just the way he liked it. His heart unclenched, if only a little.

You always knew what he needed before he did.

He tucked the note back into his coat pocket, among the many others.

Then he returned to the courtroom, still weary, but a little steadier.

You found him hunched over his desk, buried in paperwork. Rain tapped on the windows like it was echoing his mood.

Silently, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

"...You always find me,” he murmured after a pause, voice tight. “Even when I don’t want to be found.”

“You don’t really mean that,” you whispered, resting your cheek against him.

When it got late, you knew Neuvillette was stuck at work, being the workaholic he is. 

He didn’t argue. Just exhaled shakily, fingers clutching a paper like it had wronged him personally.

“Why are they like this?” he asked. “Humans. So much… cruelty and lies.”

You held him tighter. You knew sometimes these cases could be too much to listen to, after all, people only go to court for frustration, guilt and confessions. 

“Because we’re messy. But we’re capable of kindness too. You don’t have to understand all of it. You just have to be you.”

“But I’m not human,” he said, looking up at you. “How can I judge them if I don’t understand them?”

For a moment, you hesitated because you remembered the time he told you about his true identity, but even then, you never cared for it because you truly loved this man dragon from the moon and back. 

“You don’t need to be them to care,” you said gently, brushing his hair back.

“You’re already doing more than most. That’s enough.”

A deep breath before he turns in his chair and buried his face into your chest. 

You didn’t speak. Just stroked his hair, kissed his temple, and held him. 

“…Thank you,” he whispered. Then he tipped you down and you let him. He kissed you, slow, tender, like you were sunlight and he hadn’t seen the sky in days.

When he finally pulled back, he glanced toward the window.

“…The rain stopped,” he said, almost in disbelief. You smiled, running a finger along his jaw. 

“Told you. You just needed to let someone hold you for a while.”

He smiled, really smiled, and leaned in for one more kiss.

“My heart listens to you more than it does me.”

Another day, another migraine as you would sometimes say. 

"Neuvi, you need a vacation."

He had meant to protest, he always did, but the look in your eyes had silenced him more effectively than any decree. It wasn’t disappointment or frustration. 

It was care. Concern. Love.

He sat at the edge of the bed, fingers absently tracing the letter you had slipped into his coat earlier. He unfolded it now, reading your familiar handwriting:

“You are allowed to rest, Love. You are allowed to be more than the Chief Justice. Let me take care of you.”

He closed his eyes.

For centuries, he had carried so much. 

Dignity. Duty. Distance. 

And yet you, gentle, persistent, loving you, had chipped away at his solitude like water to stone, reshaping him with kindness.

Perhaps...just this once...

He let out a slow breath. And then, deliberately, he stood, walking to the open balcony. 

The moon was dim tonight, and the streets were empty except the automatons guarding the city. With one smooth motion, he shifted, scales rippling over his skin, horns glinting, wings unfurling into the night air.

A dragon once more. It felt liberating despite only showing his half dragon form. 

And as he looked down at the palace below, a deep, low growl rose in his throat. He wanted to take you far away from this place. 

From politics. From judgment. From all the noise.

He wanted to keep you close. Closer than ever.

He took to the skies and took a deep breath.

Perhaps...a vacation has been long overdue. 

After months of court and chaos, Neuvillette finally, finally, listened to you.

You had never been so excited as you pulled out your notes and forgotten plans of just hanging out without work looming over your heads. Still, you wanted it to be relaxing for your dragon husband because you wanted this to be all about him! 

He deserves rest and you would make sure he gets spoiled! The first thing you did was just take him away from the palace and into the Fontaine wilderness, where it would just be you, him, and the sea.

What you didn’t expect was to see Neuvillette showing off in his half dragon form.

You watched as he shifted, wings unfurled, silver-blue scales gleaming in the sun, and you swore you saw him breathe for the first time in weeks. 

No courtroom. No robes. 

Just Neuvillette, in all his dragon majesty, curling his massive body around you in a protective sprawl. 

“You’re hovering,” you teased when he kept nuzzling you every time you moved an inch too far.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated through his chest. 

“You wandered out of sight for two minutes.”

“You sound like you were ready to drown someone.”

“I was.”

Each day, he softened. The weight on his shoulders lightened. 

You massaged the tension from his back, whispered reassurances into his neck, and watched him melt under your touch.

But as the days passed, something changed. His touches grew bolder. His gaze lingered longer.

At night, in human form again, he’d pull you close, hands trembling just slightly. 

“Tell me I’m allowed this,” he murmured once, voice rough and low as his fingers trailed your spine. 

“Tell me I can want you.”

“You’re allowed everything, Neuvi,” you whispered against his lips. “Especially me.”

He kissed you slowly, starting off with gentle kisses before turning desperate, with whispered promises.

By dawn, you lay tangled together beneath his draped wing. His breath is warm at your nape. His arm locked around your waist.

“You’re not letting go, are you?” you murmured, half-asleep.

A hum. 

“Never.”

You could say the same. 

The sky was streaked with pink when you tugged Neuvillette’s hand. 

“Beach walk,” you said. “Doctor’s orders.”

He let you lead him, fingers laced with yours, quiet as ever, but relaxed. Peaceful.

The sea air suited him. Personally, you liked that he was out of his “judge” outfit, and in a more shirt and pants. 

Then you spotted them.

“Otters!” you gasped, pointing excitedly at the group rolling around in the surf. One, in particular, caught your eye, blue-gray fur, an almost regal posture, and sharp eyes surveying the world.

You burst into laughter, as you quickly led Neuvillette to them. 

“Wait, look! That one looks just like you.” Neuvillette blinked. 

“You think I look like an otter?” You nodded as you looked back and forth. 

“Same dignified vibe. Same colours. Same mysterious energy. Very composed. Very you.”

He gave you the most bewildered expression. 

“I...see.”

You giggled and crouched near the water’s edge, where the otters now swarmed, squeaking little “kyu” noises as they playfully nuzzled you.

Neuvillette stayed behind, watching. Silent. Still.

One of the otters nestled into your lap, eyes closed in bliss. You cooed at it.

And he frowned.

“…They’re quite clingy,” he muttered, barely audible.

You looked up. 

“Are you… pouting?”

“I am not,” he said, a touch too quickly. 

“Merely observing. They seem rather… attached.”

You tilted your head, biting back a smile. 

“You are jealous.”

“I am not jealous of an otter,” he said stiffly, before stepping forward and sliding his hand into yours, gently pulling you up and into his side. 

You laughed, letting him pull you close. 

“Jealous much?”

“I prefer ‘protective.’” 

You smiled up at him. 

“Don’t worry. No amount of adorable otters could ever take your place.”

He exhaled slowly, brushing a hand through your hair, gaze softening. 

“Good.”

Still, you made him take photos with otters anyways. 

And now Neuvillette sees it all the time on your nightstand. 

While he judges it all the time, you know that Neuvillette could never be mad at otters forever.

One night, you lay on deck beside Neuvillette on a ship. The lakeside is quiet, with the moonlight catching in his eyes, stormy and somehow intense. 

What was he thinking about even on vacation?

His fingers traced your skin slowly, pausing at your neck.

“You always touch there,” you whispered.

He leaned in, brushing a kiss to the spot.

“It’s my favorite place,” he murmured. Then softer, with a hint of hesitation. 

“May I leave a mark?” Your breath hitched as he leaned over you, staring at you intently, making you feel like you were in the eyes of a dragon.

“A mark?” You asked, breathless. 

“A symbol. A promise.” His eyes didn’t waver. 

For a moment, you simply stared into his eyes, a little pensive. Neuvillette caught your hesitation but did not falter. 

“In dragonkind,” Neuvillette explained softly, “a mark is a symbol, but also a bond. One created from instinct, will, and power. When a dragon marks someone, it means they’ve chosen them as mates.”

“Mates?” You blinked, your heartbeat fluttering.

He nodded. “More than that. It’s a soul-deep tether. A dragon only marks once in their lifetime. Once we do… that bond cannot be undone. No matter time, distance, or circumstance, our hearts remain bound.”

Your lips parted slightly as you looked into his eyes, searching. 

“So…you can’t ever choose someone else?”

“No,” he murmured, “Even if you walked away, even if I never saw you again…I would remain yours. That is how dragons love. We don’t fall often. But when we do, it’s forever.”

You were silent for a moment, taking in the weight of his words. Then, with a soft smile, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his.

“Forever sounds nice.” You leaned back, exposing your neck to him. 

“I trust you.”

You heard him suck in a breath before he swallowed.

“I love you.” You widen your eyes in surprise, he had never said it so explicitly before, which made it all the more special.  

He kissed your neck, warmer this time, and whispered something ancient, words that shimmered like falling rain. Then, he bit down, making you shiver and gasp, but he held you close, making sure you felt comfortable yet safe in his arms. 

A pulse of hydro energy flowed through you, cool and comforting. You felt it settle, and when he pulled back, a glowing symbol remained, blue and silver, delicate yet powerful.

“It’s done.” He looked so relieved, content and satisfied before kissing the mark again. 

You touched it, awed. 

“It’s beautiful…”

“So are you,” he said, reverent. 

“It binds us. Now and always.” You met his gaze. 

“I was already yours.”

“As I am to you,” he said, pulling you close. “But now the world will know too.”

He kissed you then, deep and slow, as if sealing the bond with his very breath.

From that night on, the mark stayed. And every time Neuvillette saw it, his eyes would soften, and he’d kiss it again, like a quiet vow, Mine.

[kisswoniie]

❝you lost?❞

オタク˖ 𝑓em!r .. inexperienced nerd jungwon!—suggestive. smut. romantic?

tw: mdni (18+)— making out. drinking. smoking one cigarette. unprotected sex. p in v. loss of virginity.

note: nerdy inexperienced jungwon forced by his popular friends to go to their party when he meets you 💋

Jungwon wasn’t supposed to be here.

The bass from the party thumped through the walls of the dimly lit study, muffled but persistent. He glanced down at the half-filled red cup in his hand, the chemical-smelling concoction inside as unappealing as the atmosphere around him. The noise outside was loud enough to make his head throb, but he still preferred the relative quiet of this room over the chaos in the living room.

“Damn Jay and Jake,” he muttered, setting the cup down on the polished desk. His best friends—if he could even call them that at the moment—had dragged him to this party under the guise of “broadening his horizons.” Whatever that meant. Now they were somewhere out there, laughing with strangers while Jungwon had no ride home and no clue how he’d survive the night without losing his mind.

He tried to focus on something—anything—to distract himself. The study, filled with shelves of books and knick-knacks, would’ve been cozy if it weren’t for the faint stench of alcohol and weed that lingered in the air. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and leaned back in the chair, wishing he’d stayed at the library. The door creaked open.

Jungwon froze, expecting one of his friends or another drunk stranger to stumble in. Instead, it was you.

You didn’t look like you belonged here either, but not for the same reasons as Jungwon. Your vibe was… different. The dim light glinted off the silver ball of your tongue piercing as you smirked, the smell of smoke clinging faintly to your leather jacket. Your dark eyes swept over the room before landing on him.

“You lost?” you asked, your voice low, almost teasing.

Jungwon blinked, caught off guard by your presence, let alone you talking to him. He hadn’t expected anyone to notice him tonight, let alone someone like you.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh… no. I’m not lost. Just… stuck. Got dragged here and can’t leave.”

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “That sucks.” You looked at him for a moment, your gaze curious but not unkind. “Wanna bail?” Jungwon frowned. “What?”“There’s a park nearby,” you said, straightening up. “Cool willow tree. Good spot to chill. Better than this place, anyway.”

It took him a moment to respond, his heart thudding in his chest for reasons he couldn’t quite place. He hesitated, the unfamiliarity of the situation pressing down on him. But then, he nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. Your lips curved into a small smile, and you gestured for him to follow.

The walk to the park was quiet at first, save for the crunch of your shoes on the gravel path and the occasional distant sound of traffic. Jungwon stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, unsure of what to say, while you lit a cigarette, the tip glowing orange in the dark.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence as you neared the park’s entrance, “you’re Jungwon, right?” He glanced at you, surprised. “You know my name?”

“Yeah,” you said casually, exhaling smoke into the cool night air. “You’re in my English class. Always sitting in the front with your hand raised. Like a total nerd.” His cheeks burned. “I—uh—yeah, I guess that’s me.” You smirked. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s kinda cute.” Jungwon blinked, caught off guard. Were you… flirting with him? No, that couldn’t be it. You were probably just teasing.

“What about you?” he asked, desperate to shift the focus. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who’d remember someone like me.”“Someone like you?” You echoed, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, you know… someone boring.” You laughed softly, a sound that surprised him. “You’re not boring. And for the record, I remember everyone. People just assume I don’t because I don’t show up half the time.”

“Why don’t you?” he asked before he could stop himself. You shrugged. “Not really my scene. School, I mean. People talk too much, make too many assumptions. Gets exhausting.” They fell into a comfortable silence as they entered the park. The willow tree stood in the distance, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. You led the way, dropping the cigarette on the ground and stubbing it out with your boot. When they reached the tree, you plopped down on the grass, leaning back against the trunk. Jungwon hesitated before sitting beside you, keeping a bit of space between them.

“You’re kind of awkward, huh?” you teased, looking over at him. “Is it that obvious?” he muttered, earning another laugh from you. They sat there for a while, talking about everything and nothing. You shared stories about sneaking out of your house, your love for old horror movies, and your secret talent for drawing. Jungwon, in turn, told you about his obsession with reading, his plans for college, and his struggles with fitting in. Eventually, the conversation turned deeper.

“I’ve never, you know… done anything with a girl,” Jungwon admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. You glanced at him, your expression softening. “That’s not a bad thing.” “I feel like it is,” he said. “Like everyone else my age has figured it out except me. Jay and Jake make fun of me all the time for it.”“They’re just being dummies,” You said firmly. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not as experienced as people think I am.”

Jungwon looked at you, surprised. “Really?” “Yeah,” you said, picking at the grass. “People love to talk, but most of it’s not true. I’ve only been with one guy. And even that was… whatever.” You sighed. “It sucks being the ‘easy girl.’ Like, no one even knows me, but they all think they do.” “I get that,” Jungwon said quietly. “I mean, not the same thing, but… I hate being the nerd everyone picks on. Like those guys who play football and act like they’re better than everyone else, even though they’re probably gonna peak in high school. Half of them probably have herpes by now.”

You laughed again, this time louder, your head tilting back against the tree. “You’re funny, Jungwon. Who knew?” He smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel out of place.

Jungwon leaned his head back against the trunk of the willow tree, staring up at the swaying branches. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting soft, dappled shadows on the ground. He felt lighter somehow, as if all the weight of the party and the world outside had melted away.

“You know,” You said after a pause, your voice softer now, “you’re kinda refreshing.” Jungwon turned his head to look at you. “Refreshing?” “Yeah,” you said, twirling a blade of grass between your fingers. “You’re not trying to impress anyone. You’re just… you. It’s nice.” He swallowed hard, the sincerity in your tone making his chest ache in a way he didn’t quite understand. “Thanks,” he murmured. “You’re… not what I expected either.” You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’d you expect?” “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess… I thought you’d be intimidating. You have this reputation, you know?”You rolled your eyes, though your smile didn’t fade. “Yeah, I know. But people’s reputations are usually crap, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you then, really looked at you—the way the moonlight made your dark hair shimmer, the way your lips curved, soft but teasing. You turned to meet his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. “Can I kiss you?” he blurted out before he could think better of it. You blinked, startled, but then your lips curved into a slow, genuine smile. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I—uh—sorry, I didn’t mean to—” “Hey,” you interrupted, leaning in just slightly. “Relax. I didn’t say no.” Your face was close to his now, your dark eyes searching his. He could feel your breath, warm against his skin, and the faint scent of smoke mixed with something sweet he couldn’t place. He closed the distance hesitantly, his lips brushing yours in the lightest, gentlest way. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. Jungwon’s heart raced, his hands fumbling awkwardly before settling on your waist. It was clumsy and uncertain, but you didn’t seem to mind. You kissed him slowly, guiding him, your lips soft and sure against his. When you finally pulled apart, Jungwon was breathless, his face flushed.

“Was that… okay?” he asked nervously. You chuckled, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Yeah, Jungwon. That was okay.” He smiled shyly, a laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. Okay.” You lay back on the grass, pulling him down with you. You propped yourself up on one elbow, your other hand tracing absent patterns on his arm. “So, for someone who’s never kissed a girl, you’re not half bad.” Jungwon grinned. “Thanks, I guess.” You tilted your head, your expression softening. “You wanna keep going? Only if you’re comfortable, though.”

His heart thudded against his ribs. He hesitated, the nervousness swirling in his chest mixing with curiosity and something else—something he hadn’t felt before. He nodded. “Yeah. I—I think I do.” You smiled, leaning in again, your lips meeting his as the night around them seemed to fade away.

Jungwon’s hands trembled as you guided them to your waist, your lips pressing against his with an urgency that sent sparks racing through his body. He could feel your smile against his mouth as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently.

You pulled back for a moment, your breath hitching as you took in his flushed face, his wide eyes, and the way he nervously licked his lips. Your gaze dropped briefly to his chest, and bit your lip. “Thank the universe I’m wearing a dress,” you muttered under your breath, a flicker of mischief in your tone. “What?” Jungwon asked, half-dazed.

“Nothing,” you said with a smirk, your hands sliding under the hem of his hoodie to trace the hard lines of his torso. Your fingers brushed over his light abs, and you let out a quiet laugh. “You’ve been hiding all this under those sweaters? Damn, Jungwon.”

He flushed a deeper shade of red, his breath catching as you squeezed his sides, your touch exploring. You shifted slightly, your thigh brushing against him, and he swallowed hard.“You’re so much hotter than I thought,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again. Your hands moved lower, cupping his tiny waist and firm ass. He gasped softly, his eyes widening as you smirked against his lips. “Relax,” you whispered, your voice teasing but warm.

You leaned back against the grass, pulling him down with you. Your fingers guided his head to your neck, and he hesitated for a moment before pressing his lips to your skin. You sighed, your hand curling into his hair as you murmured, “Suck a little. Right there.” He obeyed, his lips closing over the delicate skin of your neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. You let out a soft moan, the sound sending a jolt of heat through him. Emboldened, he let his kisses trail lower, his hands fumbling slightly as he unbuttoned the top part of your dress.

The fabric fell away, revealing the curve of your black lace bra. Jungwon froze for a moment, his breath catching as he took you in. You reached for his hand, guiding it to your breast. He cupped it gently, his thumb brushing over the lace, and you arched into his touch. “You’re a quick learner,” you teased, your voice breathless. His lips followed the path of your hand, kissing along your collarbone and down to your chest. His mouth hovered over her bra, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for permission. You nodded, your fingers threading through his hair again. His kisses grew bolder, his lips and tongue exploring the soft curve of your breast. Your breaths turned into quiet moans, your body shifting beneath him. One of his hands, almost on instinct, began to trail down your side, brushing over the smooth fabric of your dress until it reached your thigh. His fingers grazed the edge of your panties, and he froze again, his heart pounding. You let out a soft laugh, your hand covering his.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, guiding him. When his hand finally pressed against the damp fabric of your panties, his breath hitched. He’d never felt anything like this before—warm, soft, and inviting. He rubbed his fingers against you experimentally, and you let out a low moan, your hips pressing into his touch. “No need to tease,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “I’m already ready for your cock.”

The words sent a shiver down his spine, his hands trembling as you reached for his belt. You both struggled together, movements frantic and excited, until his pants fell down his hips, pooling at his knees. You spread your legs slightly, your dress bunching around your waist, you reached between your thighs to guide him to your entrance. Jungwon hesitated, his heart racing as he felt the warmth of you against him. “It’s okay,” you whispered again, your voice soft and reassuring. “Just go slow.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he pressed forward. The sensation was overwhelming—hot, tight, and impossibly good. He groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as you moaned softly beneath him. The feeling of being so close, so connected, left you both breathless as you moved together under the swaying branches of the willow tree.

Jungwon’s movements started hesitant, slow and careful, as though he was afraid of doing something wrong. Your soft encouragements—your hands in his hair, your lips brushing his temple, you whispered “It’s okay”—helped him ease into the rhythm. But then something shifted.

The way you moaned his name, breathy and desperate, sent a thrill through him, lighting something inside that he didn’t even know was there. His hesitance melted into something bolder, hungrier, and suddenly it was like he knew.

His hips snapped forward with more purpose, drawing a sharp gasp from you. Your nails dug into his back as he found a steady rhythm, each thrust making you arch against him.“Jungwon,” you gasped, your voice trembling, “oh my God, Jungwon.”

He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. The way you said his name, like a song, like it was the only word you knew, made him feel unstoppable. His lips found your neck again, leaving open-mouthed kisses, his breath hot against your skin.“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, surprising even himself. “So tight… so wet. God, Y/n, you’re perfect.” Your breath hitched at his words, your hands tugging him closer. “Where… where did you learn to talk like that?” you managed to say, your voice broken by a moan.

He didn’t answer right away, too lost in the way your body moved with his. Instead, his lips curved into a grin against your neck. “Guess I’m a fast learner,” he said, his voice tinged with a newfound confidence. You could barely think, your body overwhelmed by the heat of him, the way he filled you completely. You wasn’t expecting this—wasn’t expecting him to take control like this, to know exactly where to touch, what to say, how to make you lose yourself. But you weren’t complaining. His pace quickened, and you could feel the tension building inside you, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. “Jungwon, I—”

“I know,” he cut you off, his voice a growl. “Cum for me, Y/n. I want to feel it. I want to hear you.” The way he said it, like he was giving you permission to let go, pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, and you cried out his name, your voice echoing into the night. Your legs tightened around his waist, your nails dragging down his back as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

The sight of you—head thrown back, lips parted, eyes glazed with ecstasy—was enough to undo him. He buried his face in your neck, his movements growing erratic as he chased his own release. “Y/n,” he groaned, your name falling from his lips like a plea. “God, you’re… you’re everything.” With one last thrust, he stilled, his body trembling as he came, the sensation overwhelming. For a moment, neither of them moved, the only sounds their ragged breathing and the faint rustle of the willow tree above them.

Jungwon collapsed beside you on the grass, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The night was quiet again, the only sounds the rustling of the willow tree and their still-uneven breathing. You turned your head to look at him, your hair fanned out around you. You seemed almost dazed, your lips parted slightly, your cheeks flushed. A soft laugh escaped you as you reached over to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “No one has ever came inside me before,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible, as if you were speaking more to yourself than him. Then, after a beat, you added, “We’ve got to see each other more.” Jungwon blinked at you, his face reddening again. A shy chuckle bubbled up from his chest, and he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Uh, yeah. I guess we do.”

You both stayed like that for a moment, the intimacy of the words hanging between you. But then you sat up, smoothing your dress back down and glancing around as if realizing they were still outside. “Here,” you said, leaning over to help him button his shirt back up, your fingers lingering briefly on his chest. “Can’t have you walking home looking like you just got lucky under a tree.” Jungwon laughed, a real, genuine laugh this time, as he fumbled with his belt, trying to make himself presentable. “Yeah, that might give people the wrong idea.”

You smirked, reaching out to adjust the collar of his shirt. “Or the right idea,” you teased, your voice light but your touch gentle. You stood together, brushing off stray bits of grass and fixing their clothes. The night felt different now—charged, but in a quieter, more intimate way. “So,” Jungwon started, shoving his hands into his pockets. He felt like he should say something meaningful, something to sum up what just happened, but the words didn’t come. You tilted your head at him, your dark eyes sparkling. “What?”

“I don’t know,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “I just… this was… good? I mean, really good. I don’t know what the vibe is now, but…” You chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Relax, Jungwon. I like your vibe. You like mine. We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.” He nodded, your words easing some of his uncertainty. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” As you both walked back through the park, side by side but not quite touching, Jungwon couldn’t help but replay the night in his head. He’d lost his virginity—and it had been… amazing? Better than he ever imagined. And with you of all people.

You glanced over at him, catching his thoughtful expression. “Hey,” you said, bumping his shoulder lightly. “Don’t overthink it, okay? We’re good. This was good. He smiled at you, a warmth spreading through his chest. “Yeah. It was.” And as you guys left the park together, the willow tree swaying in the breeze behind you, neither of you knew exactly where this would go. But for now, you both were comfortable, and that was enough.

Jungwon walked you home, your steps slow and easy. You guys didn’t talk much on the way, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was comfortable, like neither of them needed to fill the space with words. When you reached your place, you turned to him, your lips quirking up in a soft smile. “Thanks for tonight,” you said, your voice quieter than usual. “Yeah,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. “Thanks for… everything.”

You chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Get home safe, Jungwon.” With that, you disappeared through the door, leaving him standing there with a stupid grin on his face. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking back to the party, which was winding down as people stumbled out in various states of drunkenness.

Jay and Jake were waiting for him by Jake’s car, looking surprisingly sober. Jay raised an eyebrow when he saw Jungwon approaching. “There he is!” Jake called out, throwing his arms in the air. “We thought you got kidnapped or something.” “Yeah, man,” Jay added, crossing his arms. “You disappeared for hours. What the hell were you doing?”

Jungwon froze for a split second, his mind racing for an excuse. “Uh… I was just—” Jake squinted at him, stepping closer. “Wait a second…” He sniffed dramatically, then his eyes widened. “Holy crap, is that perfume?!” Jay’s gaze sharpened, his smirk growing wicked. “And is that—” He pointed at Jungwon’s neck. “Is that a hickey?”

Jungwon’s hand shot up to cover the mark, his face burning. “What? No, it’s not—” “Oh my God,” Jake said, throwing his head back in laughter. “This nerd actually got lucky!” Jay clapped a hand on Jungwon’s shoulder, grinning like a proud dad. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned. Who was it? Did she kidnap you or something?” Jungwon rolled his eyes, swatting Jay’s hand away. “No one kidnapped me. I just… met someone, okay?”

“Met someone,” Jake repeated, waggling his eyebrows. “Dude, you came back a whole new man. You’ve got this glow. It’s freaky.” “Shut up,” Jungwon muttered, though he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Jay leaned against the car, still smirking. “All I’m saying is, you went into that party looking like you’d rather die, and now you’re walking around like you just discovered the meaning of life.”

Jake grinned, unlocking the car. “Whatever happened, we’re gonna need all the details later. Like, all of them.” “Absolutely not,” Jungwon said firmly, sliding into the backseat. As they drove home, Jay and Jake continued to tease him, their laughter filling the car. Jungwon leaned back in his seat, his mind drifting back to you and the night you shared. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but one thing was clear: something had changed, and for once, he didn’t mind it at all.

leah’s note: girl this might be my fav work 💋

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Game Masterlist here

Summary: After the death of your brother and his wife. You find yourself adjusting to a new role in your life. A single parent to your teenage nephew. How do you help him heal? How do you help yourself heal? You're not sure. You don't think you can, until an annoying basketball coach enters your life and turns everything around.

Pairing: Basketball Coach Yoongi x Single Aunt F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Strangers to Lovers,

Warnings: Death Of Parents / Brother/ Family, Car Accident (Cause), Swearing, Explicit Sex, Arguments, Physical Fighting, Past Abusive Relationship, Talks Of Domestic Violence, Gore (Horror Movie)

You lean back on your elbows, tilting your face up to the sky. The final heat wave of the year had finally passed, and the evenings were starting to become much cooler with a welcoming breeze. With your eyes closed, you take in the sun rays before the gray clouds take over the clear sky, making the little warmth they offer sparse.

“OOOHHHHHH, nothing but net once again,” Nicky yells as you hear the basketball go through the hoop. “I'm on fire tonight.”

Smiling to yourself, you push your sunglasses up your head and look at him and Yoongi running around the park's concret court chasing after one another, trying to take the round orange ball from the other person. Yoongi had approached you carefully throughout the week, texting you during the day to make plans with you after practice. If you said you were busy, he dropped it. If you gave him the go-ahead, he showed up for dinner and a simple walk to the park that was just down the road from your house. This is the second time this week you have sat here watching them play on a set of metal bleachers. They weren't practicing, going over plays. They were just….having fun. No pressure, no expectation, just having fun. Just two people running around playing one on one because they enjoyed it.

“Come on, sunshine,” Nicky calls out, waving you over. “Come out and play with us.”

“I'll pass, thanks,” you call back, waving your hand, dismissing them.

“You're boring,” he complains and sits down on the court, pulling out his phone.

Yoongi walks over to you, casually dribbling the ball between his two hands. Sitting down next to you, he throws the ball in the air, making you catch it as it comes down in front of your face.

“Why does he call you sunshine?” He asks, leaning back, mimicking your previous position. “I don't think I have ever heard him use your name.”

“You know that song?” You ask, squinting your eyes under the glare of the sun as you look over at him. “You are my sunshine….,” you start to sing as he nods. “Yeah, that’s it. I sang it to him all the time when he was little. My dad and my brother even call me sunshine most of the time. The name just kind of stuck after all these years.”

“He was telling me about his dad,” he informs you.

“Really?” You ask, surprised that he was opening up to him. “What did he say? He doesn't ever really talk about him.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi confirms, nodding his head. “He didn't say much. Just that his dad was a really good basketball player, too. He led his high school team to the state championship.”

“He did, and they won,” you tell him. “He played in college for a little bit before he had to quit. I mean… he didn't have to quit, but he chose to quit.”

“Why did he quit?” Yoongi asks, and you sigh, looking at the boy on the court.

“He got his girlfriend pregnant,” you answer.

“Ah,” he said in understanding.

“He focused on getting a job to start saving money while trying to finish school. My parents really stepped up to support both him and Nicky's mom. It was a pretty chaotic time,” you explain.

“Yeah, I bet,” he agrees.

“Did you really think I was his mom?” You ask, laughing a little bit. “I don't think that I really give off mom vibes. Besides, it shows you clearly never read my paperwork. With all the damn information I had to put down, you would have seen I was twelve when he was born.”

“I didn't know, and Jungkook deals with all the paperwork. All I knew was that there was a hot woman in a tight skirt I had never seen before giving me a bunch of shit,” he said, smiling.

“Hot?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I still think about you in those skirts, doll,” he whispers, leaning close to your face.

“You're disgusting,” you whisper back.

“You didn't think that I was disgusting when I had you pinned to your bed,” he smirks.

“I don't remember,” you feign confusion.

“Well, I'll be happy to jog your memory whenever you want me to,” Yoongi leans closer and presses his lips to yours.

“Gross are two always going to be kissing?” Nicky asks, making the two of you break apart.

“Wait until you get a girlfriend,” you tell him, shoving the orange ball at him.

“No way,” he says. “I’m not going to let some girl get between me and basketball. I have a plan, and a girl is not a part of them.”

“Sure,” you say. “I'll make sure to hold you to that when the time comes and some little girl is fawning all over you.”

Nicky pulls a face and walks off down the sidewalk. You and Yoongi get up, following him back down the street to your house. Yoongi fingers brush up against yours as you slowly stroll side by side. It wasn't long until his long, bony digits entwined with your own. It wasn't a firm hold making sure that you stayed put where he wanted you. It was lax, allowing you to pull free if you wanted. The innocent act had your heart pounding, and you hoped that you played it off like it was nothing, but it was. It was him slowly testing the waters. Letting you tiptoe in the shallow end instead of throwing you in the deep end and seeing if you can swim and you appreciate it more than he'll ever know.

“What are you doing?” You ask Nicky as he stood at the kitchen counter scrubbing his already clean white basketball shoes with a toothbrush.

“They looked dirty,” he said, focused on his task.

“They're brand new,” you tell him, leaning against the entryway to the kitchen. “They are perfectly clean.”

“Nope, they had fingerprints on them, and I need them to be perfect for tomorrow,” he informs you. “If I can see them, then so can other people.”

“It's okay to be nervous,” you gently say. “It's your first game with a whole new team. It's perfectly normal to feel nervous.”

“I'm not nervous,” he denies, scrubbing a bit harder. You walk over to him and take the footwear away from him, placing it on the counter. “Hey!”

“Go sit on the couch. I think I have something for you,” you say, walking down the hallway to your bedroom.

Opening your closet, you step up on a small wooden step stool to reach the box that was shoved to the very back on the upper shelf. Once you grab it, you smile and grab two items inside and place the box back where you retrieved it. Stepping down, you head back into the living room to your waiting nephew. Sitting in front of him on the coffee table, you hand him the two items in your hand.

“What are these?” He asks, taking them from you.

“These belonged to your dad. It's his captain badge from high school and his lucky headband,” you explain, taking the head band back and placing it over his head to rest on his forehead. You untuck his hair so it falls around the thick black material. “I found them in a box that was in the attic of your old house when we were packing. He wouldn't let grandma wash it in case it caused his team to lose. She didn't listen and washed it anyway, and they still won.”

“How do I look,” he asks quietly, adjusting the headband around his head.

“Like the spitting image of your father,” you answer, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat and take the patch back from him. “You're going to kill it out on the court tomorrow. I'll sew this in your undershirt where it's hidden. It will give you some extra good luck even though you won't need it .”

“I'm going to win it for him,” he says with determination in his voice. “I'm going to make him and mom proud.’

“I know you will,” you wrap your arms around him tightly.

You're not religious or spiritual in any sense. You lost any faith that you did have years ago. However, there was a part of you that hoped your brother would be with him tomorrow. Hopefully, the small items you have given him will help him feel close to his dads spirit when he can't physically have him. You hoped it eased his worries, even if it was for just a little bit.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask, pulling back from him, and he nods. “Are you okay with me and Coach Min?”

“I mean, it's a little weird, but I'm okay with it,” he assures you. “I barely remember the last time you had a boyfriend. I kind of remember a guy with a beard, and I think I remember mom and dad fighting about dad hitting him.”

“You what?” You asked, shocked.

“Yeah, I remember dad having a cast on his hand and mom yelling at him about dad hitting him,” he says. “Does coach make you happy?”

“I think so,” you say quietly, trying to come to terms with what he just told you. You thought you had protected him from your trauma, but he was always way smarter than you gave him credit for. “I hope he will anyway. I want you to promise me something. Promise me that if at any time, you are uncomfortable with us…. being together. You tell me. I don't want you to ever be afraid to tell me if you get uncomfortable with us. You will always be my number one, and I don't want you to forget that.”

“I promise,” he agrees, holding his pinky finger out.

You smile and wrap your pinky around his as you both kiss your respective fist. Nicky adjusts the headband once more as he leaves you sitting there on the coffee table with your brother's patch in your hand. You close your hand tightly around the material and take a shuddering breath. Sniffling, you shake your head, trying to clear all the emotions you are feeling right now.

You're fine.

Everything is fine.

Nothing is fine.

Nothing was ever fine, and everyone knew it.

Hopefully….it will be.

You organize the shiny, colorful bags of chips off to the side of the window for easy access. Elly works behind you, mixing large containers of nacho cheese together. Bringing it to a nice smooth consistency over the heat on an induction plate in a large silver pot. She was your saving grace today after she volunteered her time to help you run the concession stand. You're pretty sure she was using it as an excuse so she wouldn't have to spend the whole time with your mom defending her choices for her and Chris's upcoming wedding. You don't question her motives for volunteering. You were happy that you didn't have to go at this alone.

“So,” Yoongi says, leaning over the counter separating the kitchen and the cafeteria to look at you. “Do I get a good luck kiss?”

“Why?” You ask, breaking down the large chip box, not sparing him a look. “You're not playing.”

Elly's giggle in the background makes you break character and smile. Sucking your cheeks in, you try to school your features. Yoongi audibly sighs dramatically, playing along with your foolishness. You finally look over at him, and he smirks at you.

“How about if we win?” He asks, licking his bottom lip as his eyes dart to your mouth. “Do I get… something then?”

“Possibly,” you answer with a shrug, looking at him with an arched eyebrow. “I guess you better win to find out.”

“You two are gross,” Elly giggles behind you, making Yoongi smirk widen and shrug his shoulders.

Winking at you, he turns, walking away to the gymnasium as his players start showing up. Throwing the box in your hands off to the side, you turn to look at Elly. She looks back at you with a million questions ready to be asked. Shaking your head at her, she just laughs. You grab your next box and repeat your earlier process, smiling to yourself. Yes, you think. You just might give him something.

You had over estimated how busy working the concession stand would be. Snot nosed kids demanded everything and anything that they could get their grubby little hands on while their parents were trying to order over their yelling. You almost couldn't keep up. The food was going pretty fast, and unfortunately, Yoongi was right. The tips sucked. You figure you must only be charming to old biker men who had one too many drinks and not the moms who drive minivans. You bet if you had worn a low-cut top, some of the dads would have tipped a bit more.

“Maybe I should have tied my shirt up,” you say to Elly, who was starting to clean up. “Show a little skin, you know?”

“Yes, I'm sure your boyfriend would love that,” she says, laughing, making you scoff at the word boyfriend, but you know it's true. “Could you imagine your mom seeing you like that here. Y/N, cover up right now.” She says imitating your mom.

“Y/N, you’re embarrassing the family,” you say, joining in on the mocking of your mother.

“I can't believe her sometimes,” she grumbles, scrubbing away at the nacho cheese pot maybe a little too aggressively. “She always has to have an opinion.”

“And yet, you are still going to marry into this family,” you tease her as you wipe some crumbs away off the counter. “I don't know who is crazier. Us or you.”

“If I didn't love you and your brother, I would have ran a long time ago,” she admits.

“Can I have a water, please?” A manly voice asks, interrupting your conversation.

“Two dollars,” you answer, placing a water bottle on the metal counter. You look at the handsome man in front of you wearing a shirt with the team's logo on it. “Anything else for you?”

“Are you Min's girlfriend?” He asks, looking at you quizzically as he ignores your question.

“No,” you answer quickly, getting back to the topic of payment. “Two dollars, please.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans. He fingers through the bills before finally pulling out the two dollar bills. “I saw you earlier here with him. You two looked awfully chummy.”

“I'm sure,” you ask, holding your hand out, making him laugh quietly.

“I don't believe you,” he tells you, handing you the money. “Trust me when I say this….stay away from him. He likes to sleep with the moms, and he doesn't care if they are married.”

Your heart stops.

A sharp pain.

Betrayal.

Moms?

Your stomach drops as your joking words from before come back to haunt you.

“I don't know you,” you say defensively as you try not to believe the words that just came out of his mouth. “Why should I believe you?”

“Well, when I walked in on him and my wife in my bed….I think I know what I'm talking about,” he tells you, giving you a tight smile. “I just thought that you should know who you're getting involved in. He's not some great basketball coach who cares about the kids. He prays on moms during weak moments. You're not his first victim, and you probably won't be his last.”

He drops a twenty dollar bill in your tip jar before he turns to walk away. You watch him, blood rushing to your ears, heart beating out of your chest. Taking a deep breath, you call out to him.

“Who's your wife?” You ask, not wanting to know the answer, but you were always a glutton for punishment.

“Ara,” he says, simply before finally walking away and disappearing through the gym doors.

Ara.

The bitch.

The one who thinks she calls the shots.

The one who yelled at Yoongi because of you.

Yoongi and Ara.

Ara and Yoongi.

You feel like an idiot. You feel like he's playing you for a fool. He knew you had to sit there in the bleachers with her almost every night and didn't say one word about his past with her. He probably wasn't ever going to mention it to you. He think's he's so fucking slick.

“Are you okay?” Elly asks, coming up to stand next to you. “What's going on?”

“Nothing. I'm fine,” you answer, lowering your eyes to the twenty dollar bill.

You were a liar. You were not fine, but there was no way in hell that you were going to show it. You were never good at much, but you have perfected lying about your emotions. You have perfected being cold and stonewalling. It's kept you safe. That is…until now. You got soft, and that just wouldn't do.

“I just have to hand over the money and have one of the coaches verify the amount. I can't help it if they take forever,” you snap at her. “What do you want me to do?”

“You better not be late,” your mother tells you as you stand by the kitchen, money bag in hand.

“You already missed his first game. You can't miss his first celebratory dinner,” she chides. “You need to celebrate his win.”

“Coach made her work the concession stand,” Nicky says, defending you. “She's being a team player. Mom used to do it all the time.”

“She will meet us at the restaurant,” your dad says, stepping between the two of you. “Look, here comes one of the coaches.”

“Finally,” you say, eyes searching the crowd, hoping that you see Coach Jeon walking your way, but of course, you weren't that lucky.

“Congratulations on the win,” your dad said in greeting when Yoongi made it to your little group and shook his hand.

“Thank you, sir,” Yoongi says politely before looking at you almost expectantly. It was as if he wanted you to introduce your family to him.

You'll pass on that.

You give nothing away as you look back at him and then down to the money bag in your hands. You could feel the burning gaze of your mother on you. As you look at her, you see her eyes flint between you and Nicky's coach. There was something almost accusatory in the look behind her eyes. You knew she could probably read you like an open book. It was one of her most useful evil powers. She could always smell it on you….the guilt….the lies. You could never hide from her when she was actually paying attention.

“You better not be too late,” she tells you. “We will order without you, and I will not order for you.”

“I told you I will be there. He just needs to count the money,” you say through gritted teeth.

Your mother doesn't respond before she turns and walks away. Your dad visibly sighs, patting you on the shoulder before following his wife with Nicky in tow. Looking at Yoongi, you practically throw the money bag at him.

“Your mom kind of scares me,” he said, chuckling, but you don't. You look at him with very little emotion, making him tic his head to the side, studying you. “What's going on?”

“Can you just count the money so I can go,” you tell him. “Obviously you can see I'm in a hurry.”

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to grab you but you back away, shaking your head at him. “Clearly you're pissed at me. What could I have possibly done? I haven't seen you in an hour.”

“I met someone interesting today,” you tell him, crossing your arms and closing yourself off. Yoongi looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to finish. “Ara's husband.” His expression goes blank, and it tells you everything that you need to know. “So, it's true?”

“How come I get the feeling that no matter what I say, it's going to be the wrong thing,” he tells you, not denying anything.

“Ew,” you say, shaking your head, grimacing. “Ew, ew, ew. I think I need a scalding hot shower, possibly a shot of something and penicillin. Oh my god, ew.”

“Hey,” he said, looking offended. You look over his shoulder to see the couple in question, walking out of the gym and through the cafeteria to leave the building. They were holding hands, looking like the picture-perfect couple, but you know it couldn't be further from the truth. “Listen….”

“Count the money,” you tell him, interrupting whatever it was that he was going to say. You didn't want to hear it. You didn't care. “Forge my signature. I don't care. Have a good weekend…coach.”

You don't spare him one glance as you walk away. As you make your way to your car, you can feel those chains that he was breaking through, locking tightly once more. Locking so tight that you swear you can feel your chest hurt. It hurt so badly. It felt like you couldn't breathe. Shaking your head, you were so mad at yourself that you let yourself like someone like that once again. It was time to bury your heart again. It was time to bury it even deeper, and this time….you weren't digging it out.

《Chapter 8》

A/N: Do I need to run and hide?

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[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #15 死

† arrangements †

"You were supposed to go back to individual training sessions with Takama. But torday, it is Jeon standing there instead. And you really feel like easing off some tension."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 9k.

content: training with jeon (it gets intense), sexual tension off the roof, kissing, ass grabbing, boner popping up (lmao), cafeteria shenanigans.

☠ author's note ☠

AHHHHH MY PRECIOUS BABY CHIMCHIM (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

What are you getting yourself INTO, you financial genius disaster? Every time I write Jimin scenes I'm just sitting here like "no baby no don't do it" while simultaneously typing out exactly what he's doing. I'm his god yet I have no control. The duality of being an author.

ANYWAY, let me know your thoughts about Y/N and Jeon's little "arrangement". ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Also... the way this man goes from cheeky little shit to MAN OF STEEL in 0.2 seconds is honestly doing things to me. Like the DUALITY?? One minute he's all sarcasm and eyerolls and the next he's all commanding presence and intense stares. Please show me all your facets while I mil—

ANYWAY! 🥰

Hope you enjoy this chapter, you magnificent disaster magnets! I see you all in the comments thirsting over fictional gang members and I just want you to know I'm judging you... from my very similar position of also thirsting over fictional gang members. It's a hard life, but someone's gotta live it.

Stay hydrated! You'll need it after this chapter!

⚔ socials ⚔

read on ao3

read on wattpad

tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Training room it is today. Takama is probably waiting for you.

You step inside immediately and—fuck. The air's different. Not the usual sweaty, stale gym smell, but something...else. It's like walking into a storm front, all electric and tingly on your skin.

Weird.

You stop, blinking. Your brain's trying to process what your body already knows: something's off.

Shaking it off, you scan the room for Takama. He's usually here by now, ready to nag you about your form or whatever. But nope. Instead, your eyes land on—

Oh.

Jeon.

Shit.

Your whole body goes rigid. This is not what you signed up for today. Takama's stern but predictable. Jeon? He's a walking thunderbolt.

He hasn't clocked you yet. He's too busy with his hand-wrapping ritual, black tape winding around those knuckles like he's prepping for war. I̶t̶,̶s̶ ̶w̶e̶i̶r̶d̶l̶y̶ ̶m̶e̶s̶m̶e̶r̶i̶z̶i̶n̶g̶.̶You've tried it yourself, but you always end up looking like you got in a fight with a roll of duct tape and lost.

The door clicks shut behind you. Loud. Way too fucking loud.

Jeon's head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours. Fuck. It's like being caught in a headlight beam, but instead of deer-in-headlights frozen, you're fight-or-flight wired. His gaze is pure Kkangpae—hard, sharp, seeing right through your bullshit.

"Thought you could sneak up on me?"

You try for casual, miss by a mile. "Takama's usually not this quiet."

Jeon's mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. More like you just told a joke only he got.

Great start. This is gonna be fun.

"Takama had to handle some business. Guess you're stuck with me. It'll be good in preparation to our upcoming mission."

IIt's not a question, it's a fucking statement. And you know better than to argue with that tone.

Right. The mission.

Shit.

It all comes flooding back now. That goddamn mission assigned to you and Jeon back on the camping trip. The one where you both have to infiltrate MDF—Kkangpae's number one rival. Talk about high stakes.

You know how crucial this is. You know you need to concentrate now—more than ever.

But fuck.

Your eyes betray you, sweeping over Jeon's training attire.

It's insulting, is what it is.

That simple tank top might as well be painted on, doing jack shit to hide the sculpted landscape of his muscles. And those grey sweatpants? They're hanging so low on his hips it should be illegal.

(If you tried hard enough—which you're not, obviously—you're pretty sure you could see that happy trail you remember from that night in the tent.)

The fabric clings to him like it's got a personal vendetta against your sanity, obeying gravity with a lazy kind of insolence. And that silver neck chain? It's playing peekaboo from under his top, daring your eyes to follow its path. A metallic tease against skin you shouldn't be thinking about.

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of distraction.

Focus. Mission. Training.

Not Jeon's body.

You make your way to the corner where bandages and tape are strewn across a metal shelf. The mess speaks volumes—countless sessions of wrapping, unwrapping, preparing for fights both won and lost.

Grabbing a roll of black tape, you try to mimic what you've seen Jeon do a hundred times before. But your fingers feel clumsy, uncooperative. The tape sticks to itself, to your skin, everywhere but where it's supposed to go. You end up with more gaps than protection, the wrap loose in all the wrong places.

And Jeon? He's watching you. You can feel his eyes on you, sharp and intense. His face is unreadable, a perfect mask. But you'd bet your last dollar he's judging every fumbled attempt, every misplaced piece of tape.

Then he scoffs, the sound cutting through the air like a whip crack. Before you can react, he's moving towards you—footsteps echoing in the quiet room, each one making your heart beat a little faster.

And then he's there, right in your space.

The heat rolling off his body makes you acutely aware of how cool the air is around you.

He leans in close—too close—to inspect your sad attempt at hand-wrapping.

"Let me," he growls.

You don't even try to argue. What's the point? Jeon's already unraveling your sad attempt at hand-wrapping like it's the world's shittiest birthday present.

His fingers brush against your skin and for a second it's like someone just plugged you into a live wire.

He starts rewrapping your hands, and you're caught in this weird... limbo.

Because his touch is firm, almost stern, but there's this... gentleness to it that makes no sense coming from him.

It's a mindfuck, really.

This is Jeon. Cold, distant, get-the-fuck-away-from-me Jeon.

But here he is, handling your hands like they're made of glass.

Your heart's going a mile a minute, and you're praying to whatever gang deity is out there that he can't hear it. His hands are everywhere, wrapping the tape around your wrists with a precision that's almost artistic. It's like he's crafting this black armor just for you, and every pass of the tape feels more intimate than the last.

And why the fuck does he have to smell this good? It's unfair, really.

Every now and then, his eyes flick up to meet yours, and it's... like looking into the sun peeking between the clouds.

Like something is hovering—something molten and wild that reminds you of tents and nighttime.

"Tight enough?"

You manage a nod, amazed that your brain can still form coherent thoughts.

"Perfect," you say, definitely not thinking of the innuendo.

The corner of his mouth twitches, and for a heart-stopping second, you think he's read your mind. You don't like that knowing look in his eyes.

"There," he says, giving the tape one last tug. It pulls you closer, just a fraction, but it might as well be a mile. "You're ready."

Ready for what? you want to ask. Ready for training? Ready for the mission? Ready for whatever the hell this tension between you is building towards?

But you don't say any of that. You can't. Because this is Jeon, and you're you, and there are a million reasons why this—whatever this is—can't happen.

Even if it already happened once. Even if he's there, looking like a five course meal.

So you just stand there, hands wrapped perfectly, heart racing, caught in the gravity of Jeon's presence and wondering how the fuck you're supposed to focus on training now.

"Let's get started."

It hits you like a sledgehammer to the chest—everywhere at once—this massive storm system rolling in, all dark clouds and electricity. The kind that makes your skin prickle and your hair stand on end. The training room suddenly feels too small to contain it.

Contain him.

You move to the center of the mats, too aware of every step and where your feet are landing. He's still watching you—you can feel those eyes tracking your movements like a sniper's scope.

You try to copy his stance, but it's like your body's forgotten how joints work.

Everything feels awkward.

"How are you with your blocks?"

"I can handle it," you say, going for confident but landing somewhere around defensive.

He laughs. It's not a nice sound. More like broken glass wrapped in velvet.

"We'll see about that."

Because fuck. Training with Takama was... different. Predictable. Safe, even. You knew what to expect—his patient corrections, his methodical approach.

But this?

This is like jumping into the deep end of a pool filled with sharks.

And Jeon?

He's the great white circling you.

Everything feels suffocating, like there's not enough oxygen in the room for both of you. It's hard to breathe, his presence pressing in from all sides like you're caught in a fucking typhoon. You can practically taste the ozone.

Jeon circles you lazily and honestly? It's terrifying how someone so big can move so quietly. His control is infuriating—while you're here trying not to vibrate out of your skin, he looks like he could be ordering coffee.

"You're tense."

No shit, Sherlock.

The observation hits a nerve. Maybe because it's true, maybe because you hate how easily he can read you. You try to relax your shoulders, aiming for that casual 'oh-this-is-totally-fine' vibe.

Then his hand hovers over your lower back.

You flinch. You can't help it. He's not even touching you, but you can feel the heat radiating from his palm, just a breath away from contact. He's telling you to fix your posture without a single word, and your body responds before your brain can tell it not to.

Your abdomen tightens in defiance, like some part of you is still telling him to fuck off. But you straighten up anyway, because what else can you do? Not like Mr. Perfectionist here will take anything other than perfection.

Jeon steps back, and you try to remember how breathing works. Focus. This is training, not whatever the fuck that hand-wrapping thing was. You need to get your head in the game before he notices how rattled you are.

You watch him demonstrate a block.

It's unfair, really, how he makes it look so effortless—like he's been doing this since birth. (Maybe he has—he definitely looks like he fights nurses, if his attitude with J-Hope is any indication).

His forearm cuts through the air in this fluid motion that's somehow both defensive and threatening at the same time.

"Now you," he says, and oh there it is. That hint of smugness in his voice that makes you want to either punch him or—

Absolutely not. You are not going there.

He knows though. You can tell by the way his mouth quirks up slightly at the corner. He knows exactly what he's doing, the bastard. Knows he's got you at a disadvantage with his years of experience. But there's something else there too, in the way he's watching you. Like he's getting some sort of kick out of whatever this is.

You mirror his movement, slicing your arm through the air; and it feels good—solid. Like maybe you're not completely hopeless at this.

He gives you this tiny nod, and for a split second, there's something that looks almost like approval in his eyes.

But it's gone before you can really process it, replaced by that laser-focused look he apparently gets when he's in full instructor mode (like right now).

"Again," he orders, and you comply.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Each time, the movement feels more natural, less like you're just flailing your arm around and more like you might actually be able to stop someone from punching you in the face.

And all the while, he watches like a fucking hawk. Cataloging every single one of your mistakes, every moment of hesitation.

It's intense, being under that kind of scrutiny. Makes your skin prickle.

Then he moves—just this slight shift of weight—and suddenly he's closer.

His foot nudges yours, and you get the message without him having to say a word.

Your stance is off.

You adjust quickly, shifting your feet until you feel more grounded.

"Like this," he says, and it's low and gravely.

His voice shouldn't affect you. It's just two words.

It does.

You force yourself to focus on the technical stuff. The way his feet are positioned, how his knees are slightly bent like he's ready to move at any second. And then you copy his stance, feeling the stretch in your calves as you adjust.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count it out in your head.

One, two, three, four.

Anything to keep your mind off the way he's circling you again.

Because that's what he's doing now—moving around you like some fucking lion sizing up a calf.

His presence is like gravity, pulling at something deep in your chest.

It's distracting as hell.

But you're determined not to let it show.

You've got something to prove here, after all. Even if you're not quite sure what that is anymore.

"Not like that", he says and...

His hand's moving again, and your brain halts all its processes when his fingertips brush your shoulder.

It's supposed to be professional. Just another training correction.

But your body didn't get that memo, because every nerve ending lights up like it's a fucking carnival.

His hand starts this slow slide down your arm, and you're pretty sure this isn't standard training procedure. Your arm quickly gets covered in goosebumps, betraying exactly how not professional this feels.

When his fingers wrap around your elbow, you almost forget how to breathe. His grip is firm—s̶e̶x̶y̶ steady—and you can feel the calluses on his fingertips from years of handling weapons.

"Your alignment," he says, and shit... His voice has dropped into that same low register he pulled back in the tent. "It's crucial. When you block, you need to be solid, unyielding. Like this."

You feel the strength in his grip all the way up your arm. The way he's holding your elbow, it feels like he's trying to rewire your muscle memory through touch alone. It's invasive in the best-worst way possible, like he's leaving his fingerprints on your bones.

You should be focusing on the block he's teaching you. That's what a good student would do.

But instead, all you can think about is how his palm is practically burning against your skin, how strong his fingers feel, and how every "correction" feels more like a caress.

When he finally lets go and steps back, it's like someone just yanked away your favorite blanket. The air feels too cold where his hand was, and you have to fight the urge to chase that warmth.

"Now, let's see you put it into action," he says.

Get it together, you tell yourself.

This is training. Just training. Nothing else.

(You don't even believe your own lies anymore.)

You try to focus on breathing. In, out. Simple stuff. But it's not working, because every time Jeon adjusts your stance, every careful correction he makes, it's like striking matches against your skin.

At this point, your brain can't string two thoughts together.

Not with Jeon there, touch somehow both grounding and displacing.

Then he's back in your space.

And his hands are suddenly on your hips.

The touch is professional—or it's trying to be—but his fingers spread wide, pressing into you through your training gear like he's trying to leave prints. Like he's trying to remind you of that other time those hands have been there.

He stares at where his hands rest for way too long to be just about fixing your stance.

The air gets thick. Sticky.

You can feel every slight adjustment of his fingers, how his palms mold against your hips like they're meant to be there.

When he looks up, it knocks the breath right out of you. His eyes are dark, searching your face for... something. You're both breathing the same air now, and fuck, you remember this kind of proximity. Remember what it leads to.

Then his tongue flicks out, wetting his lip ring, and your brain just—stops. It's absent-minded, probably, but Christ. The metal catches the light, and suddenly you're back in that tent, remembering exactly what that piercing feels like against your—

Focus, bitch.

His hands haven't moved from your hips. Haven't even twitched. Like he's forgotten they're there, or maybe like he can't bring himself to move them.

He's not apologizing for it either, though.

Not that you want him to.

"What about now?" Your voice comes out embarrassingly breathless.

"Yeah," he says, and oh. His voice has gone all rough around the edges. "This is good. Real good."

The way he says it—like he's not just talking about your stance—makes heat pool low in your stomach. You know that tone. You've heard it before, whispered against your skin in the dark.

Professional, you remind yourself. This is supposed to be professional.

(It's really, really not.)

His thumbs start moving against your hips—tiny, barely-there circles that are definitely not about fixing your stance anymore. The touch is light through the fabric, but it might as well be branded into your skin.

Then he clears his throat, the sound sharp and sudden. Just like that, he's stepping back, putting distance between you.

Your skin feels weirdly empty where his hands were.

You watch him slip back into Chief mode. It's fascinating, really, how he does it. Like watching someone put on armor piece by piece. His face goes blank, eyes cooling until they're giving nothing away. Pure business. This is the Jeon that everyone else sees—the Chief of Tactical Assassinations, not the guy who just had his hands on your hips like he owned them.

Training kicks back in.

The tension does not dissipate.

He spars, but this time it's like... Like he's built this invisible wall between being your instructor and being... whatever else he is to you. And he's trying real hard not to cross it.

You match his energy, throwing yourself into it. You're here to be instructed, after all.

Then he pulls this move—his feet moving so fast they blur. You think he's going left, but nope. It's a trap, and you fall for it like an idiot. You stumble, losing your balance, and—

Oh.

Oh.

His arm catches you around the waist, hard and sure.

The contact hits different this time—no pretense of training, just pure instinct.

This isn't your instructor catching a student.

This is just Jeon catching you.

His grip is steel, anchoring you against him. You can feel everything—the hard planes of his chest, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing, the way his bicep flexes against your back. His thigh is pressed against yours, and you try very hard not to think about that.

You can feel his heart hammering where you're pressed together, matching yours beat for frantic beat. His hand spans your waist like he owns it.

You turn your head, just a little, just enough to see— Jesus.

His eyes are dark, wild. Like he's fighting a war with himself and losing badly. Pupils are blown wide, fixed on you.

You've seen that look before, in a tent, in the dark.

When he swallows, you can't help but track the movement. His throat works, pulse visible under the skin.

It's weirdly vulnerable, seeing that flutter of pulse on someone who's usually all hard edges and control.

The silence in the room feels heavy. All you can hear is breathing—yours, his, both of you trying to pretend this is still just training.

His grip on your waist tightens, just a fraction, and your body betrays you. You lean back into him, seeking that solid warmth. Because apparently, your survival instincts have left the chat.

His other hand hovers near your stomach, not quite touching. It's weirdly protective, like he wants to shield you from something.

From what?

From himself, maybe.

The hand trembles slightly. Jeon is trembling.

That hits different, knowing someone so controlled is fighting for composure. It has you almost whining, the distance between his palm and your body.

Focus. Breathe.

But how are you supposed to focus when he's right there?

Because hell, this is Jeon—Chief of Tactical Assassinations, walking danger sign, and somehow the person you want most.

Your eyes drift to his lips because you're a m̶a̶s̶o̶c̶h̶i̶s̶t̶ glutton for punishment. They're right there, and that lip ring is practically taunting you. You remember exactly how that metal feels, how it tastes. Your throat works as you swallow, mouth parting on its own, like your body's sending out an open invitation.

At that, his eyes immediately drop to your lips. Just a flicker, almost nonexistent, but you saw it. The look in his eyes—fuck.

You've seen hungry before, but this?

This is starving.

You tilt your head up, slow, careful, like you're approaching a wild animal. Your heart's trying to break out of your chest, and breathing? That's for people who aren't about to kiss their superior officer.

You lean in, slow. So fucking slow. Like if you move too fast, he'll spook and bolt.

His breath catches. The sound is soft, intimate, does stupid things to your core. You brush your lips against his, just barely, just enough to test, tease.

For a moment, he's completely still. Like he's processing, like he can't believe this is happening.

Then—holy fuckity hell.

He kisses you like he's dying for it, like he's been holding back forever and can't anymore. His lips are insistent, demanding, coaxing yours apart. There's something desperate in the way he angles his head, deepening the kiss, claiming your mouth like he owns it.

Your hands move without permission—one in his hair, one gripping his shoulder. The contrasts under your fingers ground you: soft strands, hard muscle. He tastes like mint and something darker, something that makes you want to crawl inside him and stay there.

It isn't some sweet, gentle thing.

It's a continuation of your sparring match, just with different rules.

He softens for a moment, less demanding, more inviting, and you lean into it, chasing his taste.

Finally, finally, his hovering hand makes contact. It spreads across your stomach, possessive, anchoring you against him like he thinks you might try to escape.

As if you could.

As if you'd want to.

Your fingers find his jaw, smooth skin under your touch.

When he pulls back, it's like it physically pains him. He gasps, the sound cutting through the heavy air. His eyes are wild, unfocused, like he's just come up for air after nearly drowning. There's a storm brewing in those dark depths, and you're caught right in the middle of it.

"I thought that was a spur of the moment kinda thing?"

His voice drops low, and you know exactly what he's talking about. That night in his tent during the camping trip, when things got real heated real quick.

You raise an eyebrow, channeling every ounce of b̶a̶d̶ confident bitch energy you can muster.

"I don't see why it has to be. I find you hot, you find me hot."

"Making assumptions now, are we?"

The playful edge in his voice does things to you. He's toying with you, and the worst part? You're kind of into it.

"Actions speak louder than words, Jeon." You lean into your sass because fuck it, why not? "And considering I had you cumming all over me a couple of days ago, I'd say you don't find me aesthetically unpleasant."

His lip curls into that fucking smirk—you know the one. It's rare and deadly and makes your stomach do this weird flippy thing.

"Oh?"

It's just one syllable, but Jesus Christ. The way he says it—all low and gravelly—makes your lungs seize.

"Going there, huh?" He tilts his head, and you can practically see the cockiness radiating off him. "Then I guess we can say the same about you."

You can't help the scoff that escapes.

It's either laugh or combust, honestly.

"I already said I find you hot. Craving compliments that much?"

"Just wanna hear it again." His smile widens, and fuck, it's not fair how good he looks when he's being an asshole. "Strokes my ego."

You swallow hard, trying to get your shit together. Because this? This is a whole new side of Jeon you're seeing. One minute he's Mr. Ice King, all cold and untouchable, and the next he's... this.

This s̶e̶x̶y̶ infuriating bastard who knows exactly what he's doing to you.

And the worst part? He's really good at it.

(Your underwear situation is becoming a serious problem, but you'll die before admitting that to him.)

"I think you're hot," you whisper, because fuck it—might as well lay all your cards on the table.

"I know."

The sheer audacity—

He says it with this cocky certainty that should be annoying but somehow isn't. Like he's stating that water is wet or the sky is blue.

You press on, because apparently your brain-to-mouth filter decided to take the day off. "So it doesn't have to be a one-time thing."

"Really."

It's not even a question. He's amused, the bastard. His chuckle hits different—low and rich and doing things to your insides that you'd rather not analyze right now.

"Just..." You try for casual, miss by a mile. "Think of it as a way of improving synergy between gang members."

The moment it leaves your mouth, you want to cringe.

Synergy? Really? But you see the way his lips twitch, and yeah, okay, maybe it wasn't your worst line.

"Hmm? I'll make sure to send Moon the briefing for approval."

"Make sure to give me credit then."

"Will do."

"So indulgent," you tease, because apparently you have a death wish.

He raises an eyebrow, and oh. Something shifts in his expression—something dark and promising that makes your stomach flip. He does this thing with his tongue, running it along the inside of his cheek like he's considering all the ways he could r̶u̶i̶n̶ wreck you.

"You know how indulgent I can be, sunshine."

Fuck.

That nickname. The way he says it—soft but loaded with intent.

It's not fair how he can take two simple words and turn them into something that feels like a caress and a threat wrapped in one.

Your heart's going absolutely feral in your chest. You're pretty sure he can feel it, which is just... great. Really great.

You swallow hard, trying to remember how words work.

"Don't you think..." You pause, trying to find the right words without sounding too desperate. "...that as gang members, we need to... release some tension from time to time? For the sake of the gang."

His mouth twitches. You want to punch him.

"For the sake of the gang," he echoes.

"Mhm." You feel a little rush of pride at having his complete attention. It's not easy to get Jeon to focus on anything that isn't mission-related. "And, you know... Fucking just seems like the healthier option."

The silence that follows should be awkward. It should be, but it's not. It's charged.

You wait for him to shut you down, maybe throw some sarcastic comment your way.

Instead, his fingers dig deeper into your skin, and fuck, that shouldn't feel as good as it does.

"Mhm. You're persuasive." His voice drops into this low purr that makes your insides twist. "Are those your seduction skills in show?"

"Maybe." You tilt your head, feeling bold. "Is it working?"

"I don't know..." There's something dark and promising in his eyes. "Considering I have you all over me right now, who's seducing who?"

Your eyes drop for just a second because—oh. That's... definitely something pressing against your thigh. Something very familiar from that night in the tent.

"I guess it depends on whether you want to include your boner in that analysis," you say, meeting his gaze.

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and against your palm.

"Fair. But only if we include those 'fuck me' eyes you're giving me."

The crude language coming from him is... something else. Instead of making you blush and back down, it makes you want to push harder.

"What can I say, Jeon? Lust is a human emotion."

"It is." His tongue swipes over his lip ring, and Christ. "And you have a lot of it."

"Funny you say that when you're also looking at me like you're undressing me with your eyes."

"I never said I didn't."

The way he says it, all casual with that hint of a smirk—it's doing things to you. Things you probably shouldn't be feeling in the training room, but here you are anyway.

Professional training session your ass.

Your hand moves before your brain can catch up, fingers skimming over his chest. You look up through your lashes, meeting his gaze.

"Good then. I guess it's settled."

"What is?"

"You. Me. Fucking."

Real smooth. Way to be subtle about it.

"And how do you wanna go about it, exactly?"

The way he says it—like he's trying not to laugh—makes your face heat up.

You pause. Wait. Shit.

You hadn't actually thought this far ahead. The logistics of it seemed... well, obvious until now. People just fuck, right? That's how it works? But now that he's asking, you're drawing a complete blank.

"How... What?"

Real articulate. Nailed it. You're doing amazing sweetie.

He actually laughs at that, the sound rumbling through his chest and straight into yours because you're still pressed together like some kind of human sandwich.

Then he's moving, helping you get your feet back under you so you're face-to-face.

His hands stay on you though, like he can't quite bring himself to let go.

"I mean, I'm game for it being a way to blow off steam." His thumb starts that little circle thing on your hip again, and fuck, that's distracting. "And as you said, we're not breaking any rules if there's no strings attached..."

You blink. Slowly. Because is this actually happening? Is Jeon—Mr. Ice King himself—actually considering your half-baked proposition?

"However, we should probably set some ground rules. Any limitations? Is there anything off the table?"

"Well, we can see when... time comes."

"And when do times come, sunshine?"

That fucking nickname again. The playful edge in his voice isn't helping your brain function any better.

"We can just tell each other, no?" You say it without thinking, which seems to be your brand today.

"What, do you really want to say you want to fuck in front of everyone—"

"God, Jeon, no—" You cut him off because Jesus Christ. The thought alone makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. "But we can say something like... we need to ease off some tension."

"So 'ease off some tension'? Is that our code?"

Amusement twinkles in his eyes, and you kind of want to punch him.

Maybe.

Not really.

"Yeah. Yes." Eloquent.

"Okay then."

"Okay."

And just like that, you've somehow negotiated the most professional friends-with-benefits arrangement in the history of gang life. With your Chief. In the training room.

What could possibly go wrong?

"What about halting?" His eyes lock with yours. "Need a safe word?"

You glance around the training room, brain scrambling for ideas. Your gaze drops to your hands, still fisted in his tank top. Oh.

"Black tape," you say. It feels right, given the context. Then, because your mouth apparently has a mind of its own: "And maybe... white tape? Like, for when things are good to go?"

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Black tape stops everything, white tape means keep going?"

"Yeah." You nod, feeling weirdly professional about this whole thing. Like you're negotiating a business deal instead of arranging hook-ups with your Chief. "Black for stop, white for go."

"Alright." His voice drops lower, settling somewhere in your chest. "Once either of us says 'black tape', everything stops. Immediately."

"Okay."

"Okay."

The word's barely settled in the air between you when something possesses you to just—

"I wanna ease off some tension."

Real smooth. Way to be patient, dumbass. (Have you seen him though? Like...)

But the way Jeon's eyes darken? Maybe being smooth is overrated.

His eyes snap to yours—look pure animal—irises swallowed whole.

Jeon's fingers stop their little dance on your hip, like he's taking a moment to process what you just said.

Everything goes quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you hyper-aware of every little sound—birds chirping outside, people talking somewhere down the hall, completely clueless about what's happening in here.

"Yeah?"

It comes out as this low rumble that you can practically feel in your bones.

Then he's moving closer, crowding into your space until there's barely room to breathe.

Not that you're doing much breathing anyway, because the way he's looking at you right has knocked the air out of your lungs long ago.

You manage a nod because words? What are words? Your brain's pretty much short-circuited at this point.

His smirk turns wicked—the kind that promises trouble—and then his fingers are sliding under your clothes, and oh.

Oh, okay.

You can feel him pressed against your inner thigh, hot and hard and very, very interested in where this is going. He notices you notice, (of course he does) and he sways his hips slightly like he's testing the waters.

A sound escapes you—something between a whimper and a gasp—as you arch back, exposing your throat. Like your body's offering itself up to him before your brain can catch up.

(And what the fuck are you, a cat in heat?)

You're both still technically fully clothed in a training room where anyone could walk in, but honestly, it feels more obscene than being naked.

Maybe it's the forbidden aspect, or maybe it's just him, but it's like everything is on fire.

(Somewhere in the back of your mind, a little voice is reminding you that this is probably not what RM had in mind when he approved combat training. You tell that voice to shut the fuck up.)

He doesn't just dive in—no, because Jeon's the type to take his sweet fucking time. His mouth traces your jaw with these slow, deliberate kisses that make you want to tug at his hair. Each one edges closer to your neck, and hell, the anticipation is killing you.

When his teeth find that spot where your neck meets your shoulder, you nearly lose it. He bites down—not hard enough to mark, but the sensation shoots straight through you, and this embarrassing sound escapes your throat before you can stop it.

"No... marks," you manage to get out, even though your brain's pretty much offline at this point.

He laughs against your skin, and the vibration does things to you. You can feel his smile—that smug, knowing one that makes you want to strangle him with his own hair or something.

"Okay."

You both know why there can't be marks—can't have evidence of whatever this is showing up in training tomorrow.

His breath fans hot over the spot he just bit, and you're pretty sure you're going to die if he doesn't do something soon.

Then his hands start moving, and okay, maybe dying wouldn't be so bad. He maps your body like he's trying to memorize every curve, every dip. His thumbs sweep over your clothes, and even through the fabric, his touch burns.

When he gets to your ass though? Different story.

He grabs two handfuls like he's been waiting to do this all day, and the sound that comes out of your mouth is straight-up pornographic. You should probably be embarrassed, but you're way past caring at this point.

He squeezes like ike he's finally getting his hands on something he's been thinking about for way too long.

"God..." He says—voice wrecked, all rough and deep. "You've got one hell of an ass."

You laugh against his mouth.

"All this training must show results."

"Fuck if it shows."

That compliment—delivered in his sex-roughened voice—does weird things to your stomach. You press back into his hands because you're only human, and the way he responds tells you all you need to know—fingers dig in harder, and yeah, okay, this is definitely happening.

You claw at him in retaliation like some kind of feral animal, nails dragging down his back through his tank.

You can't think straight—can't think at all, really.

Your brain's on fire, fuzzy with want. If this is what losing your mind feels like, you're kind of okay with it. Actually, more than okay. You're drowning in him, in the heat of his hands, in the way he's marking you up without leaving marks, and—

Clink.

The sound of the door handle cuts through your lust-haze like a bucket of ice water. Pure instinct takes over, and you shove Jeon away from you with enough force to send him sprawling onto the training room floor. The sound of his body hitting concrete is probably the least sexy thing you've ever heard.

When you look at him, his eyes are wide with shock that quickly turns into this mix of annoyance and—wait, is he amused? There's this little twitch at the corner of his mouth that says he kind of wants to laugh, even though you just threw him on his ass. But there's also a storm brewing in his eyes because Jeon? He doesn't do pretend losses.

Especially not to you, in what's supposed to be a basic training session.

Then Takama walks in, all decked out in Kkangpae black, and raises an eyebrow at the scene in front of him.

You must look like a mess—hair probably everywhere, breathing like you just ran a marathon, standing over Jeon who's sprawled on the floor.

"Thought you two would be done by now," he says, confusion lacing his tone.

"Training got a bit... intense," you manage to say, trying to sound casual while your heart's still doing its best to break your ribs.

Your voice, however, comes out steadier than you expected, considering you were about two seconds away from letting Jeon rail you against the training room wall.

The irony of using "intense" to describe what was definitely not training isn't lost on you. But hey, at least you're not lying.

Technically.

Takama lets out this low chuckle, and you can feel his eyes darting between you and Jeon, who's still sprawled on the training room floor like some Renaissance painting gone wrong.

"Gotta say, I'm surprised to see Jeon flat on his back. Never thought I'd see the day."

There's this note of respect in his voice. Because yeah, you just put the Chief of Tactical Assassinations on his ass. Even if it was totally not what it looked like.

Jeon's still looking at you as he gets up, fluidly and graceful despite having just been thrown to the ground.

He brushes off his clothes, but his eyes?

They haven't left yours for a second.

It's like he's trying to tell you something without words, and you're getting the message loud and clear.

"She's a quick learner."

You both know exactly what kind of "learning" he's talking about, and it has nothing to do with combat training.

Takama, bless his oblivious soul, just strolls to the center of the mats like he's not walking into the world's most sexually charged training session.

The sound of him cracking his knuckles cuts through the air then.

"So, ready for another round?"

He has no idea about the conversation happening without words. No clue about the way Jeon's still looking at you like he's thinking about all the different ways he could pin you down—and none of them involve training.

"Always," Jeon says.

His voice is pure sin, wrapped up in that one word like a promise. Like a threat. Like everything you want but shouldn't.

"Bring it on," you manage to say, and you're pretty proud that your voice comes out steady.

Because this? This is definitely not just about training anymore.

Not even close.

You drag yourself into the cafeteria with Yunjin, who's been talking your ear off since you left training. She's going on about something—probably important, if you'd actually been listening—but your brain's too busy playing "Where's Waldo" with the dinner crowd.

Not that you're looking for anyone s̶p̶e̶c̶i̶f̶i̶c̶ important.

(That's a lie. You totally are.)

Your eyes keep scanning the room like some kind of desperate radar system, and you want to smack yourself.

Since when did you turn into one of those people who can't walk into a room without checking if he's there?

Jeon's not the center of the universe.

He's not even the center of this cafeteria.

But try telling that to your traitor eyes that won't stop searching.

You follow Yunjin to the buffet line, nodding along to her chatter about work stuff and gang politics. The food looks good tonight—all steam and color and promise of actual flavor. You're reaching for the rice when—

Oh.

There he is.

Jeon's standing a few people ahead, his back to you like he doesn't even know you exist. Which is bullshit, by the way. You know he knows you're here. But he's pulling this whole 'I'm too cool to acknowledge your existence' act, and honestly? It's working for him.

You can't help staring at his plate because of course it looks like that. All protein and greens, like a sad jail meal. No carbs in sight because god forbid the Chief of Tactical Assassinations eat a fucking potato. It's like looking at a fitness influencer's meal prep, except this one could probably kill you with his chopsticks.

He drives you insane. How does he do this? How does he go from being that smug bastard in the training room—all heated looks and smart mouth—to... this? This walking ice sculpture who portions his vegetables like they might try to escape?

You're still watching him stack his protein like he's playing food Tetris when Yunjin's elbow catches your ribs.

"Hey, you okay? You've been zoning out a lot today."

Great. Now you're so obvious even Yunjin's noticed.

But how are you supposed to explain that you can't stop staring at the way Jeon handles his chopsticks because it reminds you of how those same hands felt on your—

Nope. Not going there. Not in the cafeteria, not while you're holding rice tongs, and definitely not with Yunjin right there giving you that knowing look.

You flash Yunjin what you hope is a convincing smile. "Just tired. Been a long day of pretending I actually know what I'm doing."

You both grab your plates and—okay, maybe you glance in Jeon's direction one more time. Just a quick look. For science.

The way his jaw moves when he chews shouldn't be this interesting, but here you are anyway, feeling heat pool in your stomach because apparently now everything that he does is just hot.

Get it together.

You scan the cafeteria for a free spot and spot Kazuha sitting alone. She's got this serene energy about her that makes you feel instantly calmer. It's kind of ridiculous how put-together she always looks, even after a full day of work.

"Hey, Zuzu!" Yunjin chirps, already bouncing over. "Got room for two more?"

Kazuha looks up from her food, and her smile is soft, genuine. Like she's actually happy to see you both.

"Of course. How was training?"

You plop down next to her, already digging into your food because you're starving. "Bold of you to assume I survived. Pretty sure my muscles are plotting revenge."

"That bad?" Kazuha asks, and you can hear the amusement in her voice.

"Let's just say I'm considering a career change. Maybe I'll become a nun."

Yunjin snorts into her rice. "You? A nun?"

"Hey, I could be holy!" You protest, but you're grinning. "I mean, how hard can it be?"

"About as hard as that time Eunchae tried to seduce that businessman and ended up talking about his cats for two hours," Kazuha reminds you, dry as desert.

"Okay, but in her defense, his cats are adorable—"

"And second of all," Yunjin cuts in, "she got the intel anyway because he thought she was 'refreshingly genuine' or whatever."

Kazuha shakes her head, but she's smiling. "Only she could fail upwards so spectacularly."

The conversation flows easy after that, just three girls sharing dinner and stories from their day. It's almost normal, if you ignore the fact that you're all trained in professional seduction and manipulation.

"Zuzu, you seen the new race bikes downtown?" Yunjin's practically bouncing in her seat. "They've got some wild colors this year. Bright as the neon signs lining the alleys."

"They're really something," you add, grateful for the distraction from your Jeon-related thoughts. "Makes you wanna take one for a spin, just you and the empty streets at midnight."

Kazuha's smiling that soft smile of hers, the one that makes her look like she knows all your secrets. "I saw them. Wish we could know the stories behind them."

"Speaking of stories," Yunjin says, and there's this gleam in her eye that makes you nervous. "Kazuha, aren't you usually having dinner with Saku and Eunchae around now?"

It's an innocent question. Totally innocent. Except nothing's ever really innocent in this place, is it?

Kazuha lets out this little laugh that somehow sounds like wind chimes.

"They're training. Apparently, the training room was..." She pauses, and you swear your heart stops. "...in heavy use earlier."

You start coughing like an idiot because of course you do. Real smooth. Your neck feels hot, and you just know you're turning red because your body is a fucking traitor.

Because yeah, the training room was definitely in use earlier. By you and Jeon. Doing... training things. Totally professional training things that absolutely didn't involve his hands all over you or his mouth on your—

"Oh, is that so?" You try for casual, miss by about a mile. "Training room's been busy lately. Gotta stay sharp and all that."

Yunjin's looking at you like she can see right through your bullshit. Her eyebrow does this little thing—this 'I know what you did' arch that makes you want to crawl under the table. The way she's staring at you, it's like she's reading a book where every page is stamped with "I ALMOST FUCKED JEON IN THE TRAINING ROOM."

Kazuha, bless her soul, just nods serenely. The conversation moves on, but Yunjin's still giving you these looks. You can practically hear her thoughts: 'We're so talking about this later'.

You end up having this whole silent conversation with Yunjin through eyebrows and meaningful glances. She takes a sip of her drink, ice cubes clinking against glass like they're laughing at you, and the little smirk on her face says everything.

Busted.

(You're really going to need to work on your poker face if you're going to keep this thing with Jeon going. Or maybe invest in a paper bag to hide your face. That could work too.)

You're in the middle of telling Yunjin about this absolutely ridiculous mission report you have to finish when—

CRASH.

"You bastard, you think you can talk to me like that?!"

The whole cafeteria goes quiet. Like, pin-drop quiet.

You whip around to see Dongho—V's right-hand man and certified hothead—with his fists bunched in Woojin's shirt. They're both red-faced and looking murderous.

Great. Just what you needed with your dinner: a testosterone-fueled throwdown.

"What the fuck," Yunjin whispers, already tensing up. Kazuha's gone still beside you, like a deer sensing danger.

The thing about fights in Kkangpae? They're never just fights. There's always some deeper shit going on, especially when it's between different divisions.

And this?

This is V's second versus some guy from tactical assassinations. The rivalry between those divisions runs deeper than the Han River.

Speaking of V—you spot him across the room, looking way too entertained for someone whose deputy is about to start a brawl. He's got that look on his face, the one that makes your skin crawl. Like he's watching his favorite show.

"Now, now, let's not get too rowdy, gentlemen!" V calls out, voice dripping with absolutely false concern. When that doesn't work, he cups his hands around his mouth: "Simmer down, boys!"

But they're not listening. Of course they're not, they're men.

You watch as Woojin throws a wild punch that Dongho barely dodges. People are scrambling now—some to get away, others to jump in. It's chaos.

Then Takama's there, all six feet of concentrated 'don't fuck with me' energy. He plants himself between them like a human wall.

"Enough! Stand down, both of you!"

The command in his voice could probably stop traffic.

But Dongho—because he's either brave or stupid or both—just sneers.

"You're the same rank as me. Don't you ever try to pull authority on me."

Oh shit.

You feel the tension in the room spike. This isn't just about whatever started the fight anymore. This is about division politics, about the endless pissing contest between V and Jeon's teams.

And their seconds are about to throw down right here in the cafeteria.

You hear V's dramatic sigh that would put soap opera actors to shame.

"Why must things always descend into violence?" he asks JM, who just shakes his head like he's seen this show a hundred times before.

You watch as V's face changes. It's subtle, but terrifying—like watching a cute puppy turn into a wolf. His playful smile twists into something darker, and then there's suddenly a knife in his hand.

(You're not even sure where it came from; he just does that sometimes, produces weapons like a deadly magician.)

"I tried asking nicely," he says to JM, casual as if he's discussing the weather.

Then—oooookay.

The knife flies through the air, spinning so fast it's just a silver blur. It hits the wall with this loud THUNK that makes everyone jump, landing exactly between Dongho and Woojin's faces. Like, exactly.

You know V well enough to know that wasn't luck—if he'd wanted to hit them, they'd be picking pieces of their noses off the floor right now.

The whole cafeteria goes dead silent. Every head turns to V, who's sitting there looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

But his eyes? They're gleaming with something that makes your stomach turn.

"There, that got your attention." His voice is soft, almost sweet. Then, louder: "Now sit down and play nice, children."

Dongho and Woojin break apart like they've been electrocuted. You watch Takama and Dongho share one last murder-glare before going their separate ways.

"Holy shit," Yunjin breathes next to you, eyes wide as saucers. She lets out this low whistle that perfectly sums up what everyone's thinking. "Only V could pull that off so effortlessly."

She leans in closer, practically vibrating with excitement.

"That was kind of hot, don't you think?"

You turn to her, eyebrows shooting up. "Didn't know you had a thing for psychopaths with good aim," you tease.

Yunjin's cheeks go pink, and she does that thing where she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's flustered. It's kind of adorable.

"What? Confidence is sexy," she defends, sneaking another look at V. "And you have to admit, that was pretty impressive."

You follow her gaze across the room. V's already moved on, chatting with JM like he didn't just turn a cafeteria brawl into an impromptu knife-throwing demonstration.

But that's V for you—deadly and dramatic in equal measure.

Yunjin's practically glowing as V catches her eye and winks. The smile she gives him is shy, which is funny coming from someone who literally seduces people for a living. But that's just Yunjin—confident as hell on missions but turns into a blushing mess when she actually likes someone.

Speaking of liking someone...

You notice JM's acting weird. He's sitting next to V, pretending to be super interested in his food, but his chopsticks are gripping that poor piece of kimchi like it personally offended him; movements sharp and jerky—very un-JM-like.

He keeps doing this thing where he looks up at V and Yunjin, then quickly back down at his food like he's playing the world's most obvious game of 'I'm not looking, you're looking.' The tension in his shoulders is giving him away though. JM's usually all soft sweaters and gentle vibes, but right now? He looks like someone replaced his bones with steel rods.

After what feels like an eternity of aggressive chopstick action, JM turns to V and says something too quiet for you to hear. His tone's forcefully light—the kind of casual that takes effort. V glances at him with that signature smirk of his, says something back, and suddenly JM's whole face changes. His eyes get all crinkly at the corners, like he's trying not to smile.

Then JM leans in closer (way closer than necessary, if you're being honest), and whatever he whispers makes V laugh. Not his usual theatrical laugh either—this one's soft, private. V nudges JM's shoulder, and just like that, the tension bleeds out of the moment.

You can't help but watch them, pondering. Maybe V's little knife-throwing show bothered JM more than he's letting on. Or maybe...

Oh.

Well, that's interesting.

JM catches you staring and gives you this little smile that definitely means 'nothing to see here, move along.'

You return it because what else can you do? Start announcing your theories about whatever's going on between him and V in the middle of the cafeteria?

The conversation around you picks back up, and you let yourself get pulled into Yunjin's excited whispers about V's 'totally unnecessary but kind of hot' intervention. But part of your brain is still turning over what you just saw.

Because either you're reading way too much into this, or there's something brewing on JM's behalf that makes the gang's 'no relationships' rule look more like a suggestion than a law.

You file that little observation away for later. Right now, you've got food to eat and a best friend to tease about her obvious crush on the gang's resident knife-throwing psychopath.

goal: 425 notes.

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© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[sparklystarrrr]

Just saw your RiddlexKing of Hearts Reader. It’s so adorable and I love seeing Riddle be smothered in affection. But I had an idea… (this is post overblot) Riddle leaves for a minute and our sweet lil reader turns to the group and says that she knows about the overblot. She knows about all the chaos SOME of the freshman *cough Adeuce cough* cause, and she knows how stressed Riddle can get. Then, with a warm smile on her face, she threatens to come back and take care of the guys if anything close to the overblot happens again. She may not be able to do anything about Riddle’s mother (yet) but her family has enough status and power to help take care of some misbehaving boys. When Riddle returns he’s confused why all of his dorm seems on edge but his lovely fiancé is just smiling and compliments the sweets served at the party. Maybe she even says they should think about having Trey bake their wedding cake.

Sorry, went off a bit there. You don’t have to write it but the idea was just stuck in my head. I just really love when the sunshine character can be all scary and intimidating with a smile.

THATS MY FAV TROPE EVERRRRR

Queen of My Heart Pt. 2

Synopsis: Sunshine can turn into a storm very quick…

Contains: Riddle R. x Fem! King of Hearts! Reader, continuation of pt.1, kinda short sorry!

The Unbirthday party was going swimmingly. Everyone was full of joy and laughter, there was no Tyrant ordering people around, the food was delicious, and the air was shining and light. "Dear, I'm heading to the restroom for just a moment. I'll be right back." Riddle said to (y/n) who sat prettily in her King's chair. "Of course darling, be quick!" she spoke with a warm voice like the sweet honey Riddle enjoyed putting in his tea. He then pressed a small kiss upon her forehead and made his way inside the dorm house.

Little did the students of Heartslabyul know, their sweet and kind (y/n)’s attitude would sour the second her red-headed fiancé was out of her sight. Once Riddle was completely hidden from view, her aura darkened. It was like a pitch black storm cloud completely blocked out the sun in just seconds. Her warm smile became strained and her posture tightened. She gripped the end of her pleated skirt,”So boys, I got many letters from Riddle these past few weeks...” Trey, Cater and the Adeuce duo turned to her at the sound of her voice. They felt uneasy. Before they could ask if she was alright, she continued.”Care to tell me why and how Riddle Overblotted..?”

Suddenly and without any warning, the girl became dark and ominous. The air was heavy; pressing down on every single Heartslabyul boy. "U-uh, Miss (y/n), it really was an accident-" "No yeah uh, we totally didn't piss him off at all..." "Bro why would you expose us like that??" "He's perfectly fine now (n/n) and I think that's all that matters... I hope." The four boys sat at the same table as her stammered endlessly. As much as they tried to figure out a way to excuse themselves, (y/n) came back harder and stronger making them shrink back in fear.

"Oh, you don't need to make up excuses... I know everything..." She said in an eerie whisper while snapping her head to the first year boys who were sweating their butts off in fear and practically shaking under her piercing (e/c) gaze. Her chaste smile was nothing but terrifying. They'd never seen a woman flip the switch on her warm and soft demeanor while still smiling happily. The whole yard of boys went silent. "You all truly have nothing else to say? My my..." She trailed in her sweet voice. "You do this again... and it'll be off with your head on my accord, got it?"

The boys nearly fainted. Every single one of them hurried out of their chairs and made it a point to bow in deep fear. "Y-yes Ma'am!" She laughed bitterly. "Very good, let the party resume!" She clapped. Suddenly, that gummy smile was plastered back onto her face while she cut herself a few slices of various cakes and tarts and other desserts. The students nodded hastily and wearily went back to eating and conversing.

(y/n)'s eyes sparkled as her red haired fiance made his way back to the party. He felt the strained feelings in the air and looked around at his fearful students who were much quieter than before. As he walked closer to his designated table with his five favorite people, he saw that his sweet little angel (y/n) was sitting and eating desserts with an adorable smile on her pink lips. Around her? Terrified Adeuce and a scarred Trey and Cater.

He sat down next to his fiance hesitantly and she began going on her sweet little rants"Oh Riddle dear, Trey really did make the desserts so well! I remember you took me to his bakery for our anniversaries, we should totally have him make our wedding cake shouldn't we?" They girl spoke happily while chomping down another bite of the creamy cheesecake.

He smiled at her, then hesitated to speak,"Absolutely my dear, but I have a question... Why are the students in shell shock..? Did something happen whilst I was away?" Riddle questioned in deep concern. "Nothing happened! I just had a quick chit chat with them. Right boys?" She looked at the four boys next to them. They quickly muttered "yes" and "yeah"s under their breath and looking down at the food in their plates.

Riddle sighed then let out an airy chuckle. He gently brought the young lady's delicate hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on it, trying to calm her nerves. The boy found it easy to read his fiance. Knowing that she'd scared all of Heartslabyul into having nightmares of her tonight? It's safe to say he was a proud future husband.

[judesmoonbeauty]

SurpriseBag 2025: Dress Up With the Cunning Mobster Doll Story- Jude Jazza's Story

Fan translation only. Accuracy not 100%. Please expect grammatical errors. Creative liberties are taken. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Jude turned into stuffed doll.

This pleased me IMMENSELY because—

(This is my chance to get revenge...!)

While being bullied and teased, I received his love differently from others, but I’ve always wanted to get back at him somehow.

Jude: Gotta real sinister look on yer face, whadda ya up to?

Kate: Heeheehee……I just think you look adorable, Jude.

Jude: What’s with the shady laugh?

Kate: Don’t criticize the way people laugh.

His expression couldn’t change, but when I picked Jude up, I knew he was looking at me suspiciously.

Kate: Jude. When I was a kid, I loved tying ribbons to my stuffed toys.

He was lowered onto the edge of the desk, looked up at me and made a low voice.

Jude: Oy, wait.

I took a small box from the shelf and opened it.

The box contained colorful ribbons. I picked up a few and showed them to him with a bright smile.

Kate: Which do you like?

He made hoarse noise as he stood up and tried to step back.

Jude:…..Dont’cha dare.

But he stopped when he realized the position he was in.

I smiled even more when I saw Jude standing on the edge of the desk, where he would fall if he took just one step.

Kate: Maybe this deep purple ribbon? Ah, this one is nice too!

Jude: Yer the worst.

Kate: It's nothing compared to what you usually do to me.

Jude: Hmph, yer the one who enjoys bein’ bullied.

Kate: Well, let’s table that for now…..

Jude: Let’s not.

I clear my throat and pick up the deep purple ribbon.

Kate: It’s not a big deal, it’s just a little ribbon.

Jude: Ya can’t be serious— Oy!

Catching Jude as he tries to escape, I place the ribbon around the back of his head, bring up both ends at the top of his head and tie them off—

(Oh, soooo cute…!)

The Jude doll is now complete with a ribbon tied on him.

Jude: ……This's the worst.

He looked so cute just sitting there while looking the other way, that I had to use both hands to cover my grinning.

Jude: Satisfied now? Lemme down.

Kate: Oh, I want to tie this frilly ribbon around your neck too.

The moment I picked up the pretty, white frilly ribbon, Jude stood up and lost his balance.

Kate: Be careful!

I quickly picked him up so he wouldn’t get hurt, but he was flailing around in my lap.

Jude: Are ya kiddin’ me, why do I gotta wear some frilly arse ribbons?

Kate: Please don’t move so much, it’s dangerous.

Jude resisted with all his might, refusing to wear the frilly ribbon, so I held him down.

That’s when—

Kate: Waah!

Suddenly, smoke billows in front of me and my lap becomes heavy.

After blinking several times, my vision finally cleared and I met Jude's eyes.

Jude: Huh…..?

Kate: Y-you changed back already?

Jude open and closed his hand several times to confirm that he really changed back, and the sighed haggardly.

Jude: ‘Twas down right awful….Don’t ever wanna go through that again.

Jude: The hell’s with turnin’ into a stuffed toy. Betcha that quack doc mixed dodgy stuff into our food again.

Jude: Thanks to that, I went through a right mess. Should go ‘n give him a good kick fer it.

Jude got up from straddling my lap, and started grumbling about Roger again—

Kate: Ppfff-

Jude: Hm?

I couldn't help but laugh because on Jude’s head….

Kate: Jude, you're wearing a cute ribbon.……

The purple ribbon he was wearing as a stuffed toy was still tied on top of his head.

The long ribbon fits perfectly now that he’s back to its normal size, with a beautiful bow sitting on top his head.

Jude: …….

I clutch my stomach, unable to handle this unusual sight of Jude.

Without altering his expression, he untied the ribbon—

Jude: Princess, hold up yer hands.

Kate: ? Sure.

I did as I was told and stuck them out, and in a flash my hands were bound tightly together with the ribbon.

Kate: Ah.

Jude: Real good job ya did earlier.

Kate: Well, uhhh~…..

He looked down at me with a crooked smile, and when I averted my gaze, he instantly carried me away….

Kate: WOAH!!

Jude: I’ll turn ya into a dress-up doll too, but…..

I was surprised when he threw me on the bed, and he immediately hovered over me—

Jude: ‘Fore that, we gotta strip off all yer clothes, yeah?

It didn't end with just taking off my clothes, I was tormented more severely than usual.

And I decided that if he ever turned into a stuffed doll again, I would definitely dress him up in frilly clothes.

[Story Set Master List]

T/L note: I know, I could’ve used the word “plushie”, but that didn’t exist in their time period, so I didn’t. And I'm sorry for the bows, but I couldn't resist putting them on him either when they were missing from his sprite.

Tag List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @barellorkilaam @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway

If you're +18 YO and wish to be added to my tag list, please feel free to comment below or DM me.

[tiannasfanfic]

Busker

Astarion x Reader (Fluff)

| Astarion Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: When the party discovers they don’t have enough gold to rent the room at the Elfsong Tavern, you come through for your friends by channeling your Bardic talents into an unforgettable performance.

Rating: General Audiences

Author Note: Gender neutral Reader/Tav, they/them pronouns (if any). No physical description given of Reader, race neutral and body type neutral. Reader wears a Bard’s outfit, but no description is given of the outfit, just a mention of what the outfit consists of (blazer, shirt, trousers, boots).

CW: None.

Word Count: 3,916

“We’ve only been in Baldur’s Gate for five minutes, how are we already out of gold???”

That was a little bit of an exaggeration on your part. It had been a couple hours since you all had passed through the archway into Baulder’s Gate proper, but your companions understood the sentiment.

Despite the exasperated look on your face, the question was mostly rhetorical. Everyone knew why the gold reserves had dwindled so quickly. It was due to a combination of upgrading equipment and restocking camp supplies. Both of these had been desperately needed as battles had gotten increasingly difficult as you made your way to the city and Gale could only make potato’s so many ways before you were all sick of them.

Which was saying a lot since you all normally loved potatoes.

But the idea of a balanced meal wasn’t that comforting when you’d finally found an inn that not only could accommodate you all, but could also accommodate you all for as long as you needed for a single flat fee when you discovered you couldn’t even afford that.

Everyone was looking forward to being out of the elements, to sleeping in real beds again and to having access to a hot bath. Eating potatoes for a few more days would’ve been a small price to pay for those luxuries.

“I could part with some of my books,” Gale said, hesitation in his voice. “Sorcerous Sundries pays well for magical tomes. A few of my rarer ones should be able to get us the room.”

“Absolutely not,” Karlach said, shaking her head. “You’ve worked your ass off on that collection.” Gale looked visibly relieved. “Ya know, back before I started working for Gortash, I used to fight at the arena. It was always a good way to make some quick coin.”

“No,” you said, sighing. “Your heart could go out at any moment. We’re better off with you saving your strength for the fighting we still have ahead of us.”

Karlach thought about this then nodded with a sigh.

“Good point, Solder,” she said, looking visibly disappointed.

“Perhaps I could -“ Astarion started saying as he wiggled the fingers of one hand in the air.

“No!” everyone said at the same time, shooting him looks of disapproval.

Astarion scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at them.

“You don’t even know what I was about to suggest!” he said, an indignant tone in his voice.

“You’re not picking pockets again,” Wyll said, also crossing his arms over his chest and glaring right back at him.

“Tchk, you think we forgot what happened the last time?” Lae’zel scoffed.

Astarion threw his arms up in exasperation.

“That was not my fault!” he exclaimed. “How was I supposed to know that guard was going to round the corner right as I was lifting a wallet?”

“Regardless, we lost more gold bribing the guard to keep you out of jail than we would’ve gained from the theft,” Jaheira said.

“And you shouldn’t have wasted the gold!” Astarion protested loudly. “Honestly, I could’ve broken myself out!”

The argument quickly grew heated, as it always did whenever this topic got mentioned, so much so that no one noticed when you slipped away from the group and to your tent.

However, they did notice when you strode past them towards the road that lead back into Rivington. It would’ve been hard not to notice you since you were now decked out in your most colorful Bard finery and stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Darling, where are you off to?” Astarion called towards your retreating back.

“To make us some money!” you called back over your shoulder, not breaking your stride.

The companions all looked at each other incredulously, shrugged at each other and began following you, the argument forgotten for the time being.

By the time you stopped at a particularly busy corner near the Circus of Last days, Karlach had put two and two together and was nearly buzzing with excitement.

“Are we finally getting to hear you play?” Karlach asked as you rummaged in your pack.

“Looks like it,” you said, pulling a tin cup from the bag and depositing it on the ground in front of you.

The Tiefling squeed in excitement and clapped her hands.

Outside of combat, the only times they’d ever heard you play was while tuning your lyre, which didn’t really amount to much, just some casual strumming. Whenever they asked if you’d treat them to a song, you always declined, saying you weren’t particularly inspired for real music at that moment.

But, like most people, you were highly motivated by small luxuries and, when faced with the choice of sleeping outside versus in a nice room, you had found a burst of inspiration.

Once you’d gotten yourself situated, you made shooing motions with your hands to your companions. The party retreated a short distance away to a short wall where they could relax and watch the show.

If you were nervous, there was no indication on your face. Astarion watched as you readied your lyre, closed your eyes, took a couple of deep breaths to center yourself and then strummed your fingers over the chords of the instrument.

But rather than a beautiful melody, the most god awful sound he’d ever heard was produced. Everyone within earshot cringed and a few people passing by stopped to stare.

Your eyes flew open and you glared down at the lyre.

“Now now, we talked about this,” you said to it.

You flashed an apologetic smile to the people nearby who had stopped, then turn back to the lyre with a serious look on your face.

With fluid motions, your fingers glided between the tuning pins and the strings, getting the sound in order. More people had stopped to watch, looks of apprehension on some of their faces. Bards in Baldur’s Gate were a gold a dozen and were either fantastically amazing or astonishingly terrible. There was no in between. But even the terrible ones were usually somewhat entertaining and, with the threat of an invasion looming, people seemed to welcome this brief distraction, even if it cost them their eardrums.

Once the tuning was complete, you smiled triumphantly to the gathering crowd, raised your arm theatrically and then strummed the strings with a flourish.

But all was still not well with the instrument. While some of the strings elicited a beautiful melody, the others sounded somewhere between nails on a blackboard and a dying cow.

The small crowd gasped, a few people made curses of shock. Some covered their ears, including Karlach.

A look of horror came over your face at the sound, which you quickly turned into another apologetic smile for the crowd before turning to your instrument with an almost comical glare.

Astarion narrowed his eyes at you. The lyre shouldn’t have still been out of tune. You had adjusted every pin, plucked every string one by on. It’d taken you a bit longer than it would’ve at camp, he’d watched you do it many times, but the result was the same. It sounded perfect even to his ears and he knew instruments just don’t go out of tune on their own. He leaned forward where he sat, watching your hands carefully as you began tuning it again.

As your fingers began to make adjustments to the pins, he was able to catch onto what was happening. While you turned one pin to tune its corresponding string, you managed to knock the next pin out of tune with your pinky and ring finger. At first, he thought it might be an accident, but then it happened two more times and he began to suspect it was on purpose. You did have some skill in Sleight of Hand, though you rarely used it.

His suspicions were confirmed when you turned back to the crowd with a triumphant look on your face, once again raised your hand with a flourish and confidently rang your fingers over the strings.

This time, the lyre made a sound reminiscent of metal grinding on metal, making your entire body stiffen up in a cringe and illiciting cries of pain from the growing crowd. Some shook their heads as if to clear them, while others stuck a finger in one ear as if working something out, and the kids all covered their ears. Everyone in the crowd had an expression of regret on their faces, ruing the fact that they’d stopped. Yet, none of them left, curiosity now winning out over self preservation.

“I guess we can look forward to another night sleeping in the dirt,” Shadowheart said with a deep sigh.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Astarion said, still watching you closely.

The others all looked at him quizzically and he tilted his head towards you, indicating they should keep watching.

Once again, you hit the crowd with an apologetic smile and laughed nervously, but Astarion could see now how exaggerated it was.

“My apologies everyone,” you said, your voice ringing out loud and clear to the gathered people, then slightly shook your instrument. “Thing’s got a mind of its own sometimes.”

Then you turned towards the lyre with a glare and then pointed an admonishing finger at it.

“Behave,” you said to it, a tone of warning in your voice, earning a few weary chuckles from the crowd.

Once again, you began to tune the instrument, this time turning the pins but not plucking the strings to test them. Your fingers darted back and forth along the pins, working out of sequence but adjusting each one to a slight degree. Once that was done, you flashed a nervous smile to the crowd, then readied yourself to play.

Just as you were about to start playing, your fingers mere inches from the strings, you froze in place, glanced at the audience, then made two more adjustments to pins.

You stood there for a moment afterwards, looking at your lyre with a worried expression, then turned another of the pins, but then you shook your head rapidly, as if in disagreement with yourself, and turned the same pin back to its original position.

After a couple of more worried looks towards the audience and a couple more pin adjustments, you gave a small nod of satisfaction. With one last nervous smile to the crowd, you took up a playing stance that looked more like you were bracing yourself for an explosion rather than playing a lyre, which earned a few apprehensive chuckles from the crowd. You took a few deep breaths, crossed the air with your free hand as you offered up a prayer to the gods, closed your eyes in a tight squint and cringed as you began to play.

This time, instead of some god awful noise no one knew a lyre was capable of producing, a beautiful melody floated off of the strings. Everyone recognized the opening tones of “The Queen’s High Seas” and Astarion could see the crowd visibly relax.

As the temperature of the crowd changed, you opened one eye to look down at your lyre and watched yourself playing for a second before looking up at the crowd in shock. You shook your head as if to clear it and a bright confident smile overtook your face as your posture relaxed. The crowd, now having caught onto your game, laughed appreciatively and a few people clapped.

“Well I’ll be,” Gale said, laughing and clapping his hands along with the crowd. “We might just get that room after all.”

Astarion couldn’t help but chuckle himself. You’d had played the crowd just as skillfully as you were now playing the lyre.

Once the first song was over, you easily transitioned into the more lively tune of “The Bard’s Dance.” Now that you were playing something more upbeat, your swaying turned into dancing and soon your audience was clapping along with the rhythm.

After two more songs, the impromptu performance was broken up by the city guards. There wasn’t anything in the laws of Rivington that prohibited busking, but the crowd had grown large enough it was spilling out into the street and blocking traffic.

You took your bows as the crowd began to disperse, dropping gold coins into the tin cup as they left.

The companions made their way back over to you as you were counting your earnings.

“That was incredible!” Karlach exclaimed, clapping you on the back and nearly knocking you over. “You’re really good, Solider!”

“Indeed!” Wyll said, beaming at you. “That was as fine as any performance I’ve ever seen!”

“With talent like that I’m surprised you don’t play more often,” Shadowheart said.

“I reserve it for special occasions,” you said with a shrug, then shook your coin purse. “Good news though. We’re a quarter of the way there. Shouldn’t take much longer and the room will be ours.”

That news brightened everyone’s spirits considerably.

A few hours, and a few street corners, later, you were all sitting round a table in the tavern at the Elfsong. Not only had you made enough gold to pay for the room upstairs but also a veritable feast for the party and several rounds of drinks. Since no one could decide what they wanted, the wooden surface was laden down with one of everything that was on the menu.

While Astarion didn’t partake in the food portion of the evening, he could tell it was good by how none of you really spoke as you dug in. There was the occasional yummy sound or one of you would tell the others to try a particular dish, but apart from that, talking was kept to a minimum.

As everyone’s bellies began filling up, regular conversation resumed and soon turned towards planning the next steps of their journey. Now that you all had made it Baldur’s Gate, it was time to decide where to go from here. Since the day had waned into the evening, everyone agreed to an early night and to set out for Sorcerous Sundries in the morning.

But planning an early night and actually getting an early night were two completely different things. Once the tavern bard took to the stage and the drinks continued to flow, this plan was quickly forgotten. Several hours passed in the blink of an eye.

As the bard was leaving the stage for a break after his second set, Astarion realized you’d been quiet for a bit and turned towards you only to find your chair empty. That took him a bit by surprise. It wasn’t like you to slip off without saying anything. Concerned, he excused himself from the table and went looking for you. It took a few minutes, but he finally located you when he checked the room upstairs. You were face down on your claimed bed, arms down by your sides with your still booted feet hanging off the edge.

“Darling, are you alright?” he said, voice laden with concern as he came over to sit next to you.

“Mmhmm,” came your response, muffled by the pillow you had your face in.

“Are you sure?” he said, placing one hand on your back to start rubbing it in a circular motion.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and then moved your arms under your body so you could prop yourself up on your elbows and look at him. “I just always forget how exhausting performing is.”

Now that your face was visible, it was very apparent how tired you were. You looked even more worn down than you had after fighting through Moonrise Towers with the Harpers, which was surprising considering how prolonged that battle had been.

Having never been a stage performer himself, Astarion couldn’t relate to your current predicament, but he tried his best to be understanding.

“With all that dancing it’s no wonder,” he said, a soothing tone in his voice as he continued to rub your back. “I’d be more surprised if you weren’t tired.”

“It wasn’t just the dancing,” you said, moving your arms so they were folded on top of your pillow and then laid your head down on them. “Engaging with the crowd, keeping the energy going to keep their attention, making eye contact, talking with people at the end…I’m just as drained mentally as I am physically.”

Now that was something Astarion could understand. Back when he was still under Cazador’s thumb, he had to work the parties that regularly got thrown at the estates. Mingling with the nobles, engaging with guests, working with the servants to fix any problems that arose so the night would go off without a hitch…it was all incredibly exhausting.

“Is that why you don’t play at camp?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Once I get started, I can’t help but go into a full performance like that, even for a small audience. It’s against my nature as a performer to do anything simple.”

Astarion couldn’t help but chuckle. He could see that considering how theatrical you get when casting spells during combat.

“Would you like for me to get a bath ready for you?” he asked, now running his hand up and down your back.

You thought about it for a moment then shook your head.

“I’m too tired for that,” you said, your eyes closing. “Could you keep rubbing my back though? It feels really nice.”

“Of course,” he said.

It didn’t take long before your breathing began to take on a slower rhythm indicating you’d soon be asleep. Astarion took a hold of your shoulder and gently shook you.

“Can you roll over for me, darling?” he asked, his tone soft and gentle. “Let’s get you more comfortable.”

You grumbled, but did as he asked, turning over to lay on your back, eyes still closed. Now that he had better access, he rose from the bed and started taking your boots off. Once that was done, he helped you sit up to remove your blazer.

“Do you want to change into your night clothes?”

You shook your head again, so Astarion unbuttoned the collar and cuffs of your shirt, as well as the first few buttons down the front, and helped you untuck it from your trousers. While it wasn’t as loose as the shirt you normally slept in, that gave you more room to move around.

Once he’d helped you squirm under the covers, you immediately curled up underneath them into your normal sleeping position. He sat back down then, leaning over to kiss you on the forehead.

“Stay with me for a bit?” you asked, your voice quiet and on the verge of sleep.

While he knew how you felt about him and you never made any secret about how much you cared, sometimes he had his doubts. It was hard to believe sometimes that he could be so lucky. But in moments like these, moments when your thoughts slipped out as you teetered on the verge of wakefulness and sleep, his inner doubts quieted. It made him feel what he could only assume was the feeling of butterflies.

“Of course, my love,” he said, his voice soft as to not disturb your relaxation.

While he wasn’t quite tired enough to go to sleep himself, he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to hold you while you slept. It had become one of his favorite things.

Forgoing his normal sleeping clothes in order to quickly lay down with you, he made himself more comfortable in much the same way he had helped you. His boots were removed, the collar and cuffs of his shirt unbuttoned, and he untucked his shirt from his pants.

As he climbed under the covers, he noticed you were fighting to keep your eyes open to wait on him. Once he was situated, you scooted over to curl up against him, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Goodnight, my love,” he said softly, kissing the top of your head.

You muttered something that sounded like goodnight and it wasn’t long after that you fell asleep.

As the sound of your breathing slowed into the low rhythm of sleep, Astarion couldn’t help but think of the future. Now that you all had reached Baldur’s Gate, he imagined things would begin to escalate quickly, but there was still so much to do. There were quite a few people the party needed to meet up with, you had a lead on where to find Shadowheart’s parents, plus your new friend at the circus had asked you to find Dribbles the Clown. Or, rather, what was left of him, at any rate. And then there was the small matter of killing Cazador.

Astarion’s arms unconsciously tightened around you as his thoughts turned towards his former master.

Despite all of the confidence and bravado he displayed whenever he talked to you about it, the prospect of returning to the Crimson Palace unsettled him. He was terrified, but he knew if you knew that you’d try to talk him out of going, to let you and the others handle it while he stayed behind at camp. You’d already floated the idea to him once, but there was absolutely no way he was going to miss out on Cazador’s bloody and, hopefully agonizingly painful, last moments. After two hundred years of torture, he’d more than earned that right.

And then there was the matter of the Rite of Profane Ascension. Was he really going to take Cazador’s place and ascend in his stead?

He still had no idea. Despite the determination he showed you whenever the topic came up, he was deeply unsure if it was the right thing to do. He didn’t want to lose what little humanity he had left, become a hard and cruel monster as his master was. But what choice did he have if he wanted to keep you safe, to keep himself safe? Once the tadpoles were gone, he’d be nocturnal once again, relegated back to the shadows and unable to protect you in the daytime hours. He shuddered at the thought of something happening to you just because he couldn’t go outside half the time.

All of these thoughts combined into a loop of despair in his mind, only broken when the sound of your drunken companions finally coming upstairs to retire for the night. The noise startled him from his thoughts, and you stirred in his arms.

While you didn’t fully wake from your slumber, your sleep was disturbed just enough that you moved around into a different position. You turned onto you other side within the circle of his arms, facing away from him. Astarion moved his body with yours, turning with you so he was curled up behind you, the front of his body pressed against the back of yours. In this new position, he was able to bury his face against the side of your neck and breathe in your scent. Your smell was comforting to him and felt himself relax.

Now that the spiral of his thoughts were broken, he took this as a sign to stop thinking for the night get some rest. It took a little while, but between the lullaby of your soft snores and the steady beat of your heart, his worries about the coming days fades and he eventually drifted off into a meditative state.

[bunnyclawzz]

Can you do more hyperfem reader x Mohawk mark??

Yesyesyes!! I lovee mohawk Mark so much, I might make this a little series😋

Opposites!

Mohawk Mark x Hyperfem!reader

Going shopping with you would be a full-time job to anyone who wasn't him. He never got bothered when you would ask to go. Yeah, he had those snarky little comments, but her never actually meant any of them

"Maarrkk? Can you come to the mall wi-" he didn't even let you finish asking for his company before he cut you off in a rude yet affectionate way. "Stop asking me like I'm ever gonna let you go alone. The hell do you even need from there anyways?" he questioned without even looking up from his phone. His response had a warm grin blossoms onto your face, the kind of smile that he could tell was there without needing to turn to check. A soft hum leaves your glossed lips before you reply. "Wanna get new clothes for spring. Maybe early summer shoppin' too. Maybe we can get some for you too!' you'd offer all enthusiastically as if you were the one paying for any items. He turns his head to face you, raising an eyebrow at you with a slanted head "..Sure. Whatever you pick, princess" he spoke, purposely using the nickname that always made you feel all warm inside and out.

Just like clockwork, each and every time you were shopping with him he would follow you around like a stray dog. He'd carry whichever drink you had chosen for the warm afternoon-weather it's a iced soda, a boba tea, or an overly sugared iced coffee, it's in his hand while you wander around whichever shop caught your attention first. "Hmm.." you buzz softly, eyes scanning around for just a moment. Your soft hand takes his rough and hard-skinned one to lead him into a store that makes him look like an action figure stuck into a dollhouse.

"Mark," you began as you lifted a lacy pink baby doll top up into his view "do you like this?" you questioned as your free hand ran along the pastel fabric. He had no time to respond before you continued on with the questions. "Or do you like the yellow one better? Oh-they have blue! You like blue, right?" He couldn't hold back the big smile that plastered across his face as you trailed on and on about the colors of the tops that had your attention. "I do like blue, yeah, but you shouldn't just get something 'cause it's a color I like" You're silent for a few seconds, clearly up in your head thinking about something. After just another second you click your tongue and shake your head, you voice coming out like the curb of a morning bird. "Nope!" You said, popping the 'p' in the word as you set the pink top down and reached for the French blue colored one instead, "Already got an outfit for it planned in my head." He chuckles at your words. His hand reaches out to take the top, holding it up to your body in attempt to get a visual. "Yeah? Can't wait to see it on" He said in a low murmur as he eyed you up.

Just around an hour into the trip you had your own drink in hand, sipping contently as your boyfriend followed you around whilst carrying all your shopping bags, all full of items purchased by him. Store after store, changing room after changing room and giving endless input and compliments and watching you swatch an endless amount of lippies only to buy you one new lipstick and a new mascara tube-how could he not spoil you? You're the one thing in his life that is absolutely perfect in and out, he has to treat you as what you are. "Princess," he began with a soft sigh, "Come on, we're sitting at the food court for a minute. Just the sound of those shoes tells me they're uncomfortable" he said as he gestured to the open-toed kitten heels on your feet. He barely let your brain process the words, just quick to take you by the wrist and tug you to the first open seats he could find.

"Alright," he spoke again, "I"m getting you a burger and fries. Do you want a new drink?" You didn't respond for a few seconds. Your eyes got glued to him, admiring him and all he does for you for just a few seconds before you answered. "...get me a lemonade?" "Got it" he said as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. "I'll be right back, just sit and rest your feet for a few minutes."

Upon meeting Mark, the weirdo-punk with the spiky mohawk and short temper, you never thought you'd like him, let alone date him. You would've never dreamt that being paired with said weirdo would lead to you being treated like royalty and being absolutely spoiled rotten whenever he could. Can’t help but adore his very unlikely girlfriend

[mrsjjongstby]

ONLY YOURS TO CATCH - N.RK

~ HIS FAVOURITE DETECTIVE

PART 1: BAITED AND BOUND

Pairing: Obsessed serial killer!riki x Detective!fem!reader

Genre: Dark romance.

Synopsis: You, a detective who has always solved her cases with ease — until he appeared. A string of murders, all more twisted and challenging than the last, draws you deeper into a deadly game crafted just for you. As the lines blur between hunter and hunted, you realizes you're not just chasing a killer — you're the prize he’s been chasing all along. In a city full of noise, he made sure only you heard him.

Warnings: Killing, blood, knives, jealousy, obsession, stalking behaviour, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of pregnancy(not related with the female lead), toxic dynamics, dark themes, cursing, jail/ prisoner setting, mentions of poison (cyanide), etc (let me know if i missed any!)

Word Count: 2,962

Some traps aren't meant to catch you. They're meant to keep you."

You are good at your job, you really are. But recently the job has been feeling way too easy. Something is just not adding up. You are a very well-known pro-found detective- the one the departments brags about infront of press and in articles.

You knew you deserved the praise, the applause but now, as you are sitting before the 35-year-old man while tapping your pen against the metal table, you don't know if you deserve the “The detective who solved it all” title anymore. 

“I killed Yuri” the man- Jae states bluntly.

He continued, “Had an affair with her and got her pregnant and I didn't want Hana to know, I did warn Yuri though, told her to get abortion but she was stubborn she said she didn't want to kill a life who hadn't even developed into a baby. But I didn't want that- I didn't want her or the child. I did what I thought was best-”

“And that is to kill her?” You can’t stop yourself, gripping the pen tightly as you yell. 

Jae shrugged. “I did what I had to do.”

You don't understand why this is happening, why the past five cases you’ve been handled have been too easy to solve.

But one thing is for sure, you don't like it one bit.

You liked the critical thinking, assessment of the evidence and putting pieces together that come with the job.

But lately, the criminals are being found after you’ve only uncovered a few pieces of evidence.

Not that you aren't happy that the criminals are getting caught early but it's that it almost feels too unreal, too silly and too convenient for a criminal to be found with the first 3 clues.

Too absurd for the criminals to come out and confess- always with an underlying feeling and a strange tension you can’t quite place.

You look at him and ask, “So why are you confessing to me now when you tried to hide her body, hide the murder which you committed?”

Jae chuckles almost nervously “I guess I still have a thing for Yuri.”

You get up from your chair disgusted “Rot in jail bastard.”

With that, you leave the room with your mind full of thoughts and theories. And none of them make sense.  

Now, back in your office, you sat pondering about the past five cases. A knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts.

Detective Jun-ha, your senior, stuck his head in.

“That’s the sixth case you’ve solved in the past two weeks Ms. The detective who solved it all, are you sure you didn't make a deal with the devil?” Jun-ha, though technically your senior, never acts like one.

He has seen you grow. He was there through your thick and thin and he’s one of the few people who truly support you and are genuinely happy for you.

You gave him a tired chuckle. “Maybe I’m the devil. Anyways, what brings you here my dear senior?”

"Nothing, just checking up on my favourite detective” he says as you roll your eyes playfully.

"I'm doing alright, thanks for checking up on me senior”

“Good to know. I'll take my leave then” he says with a grin as he exits, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Your smile fades as soon as the door shuts click.

This isn’t normal. It was like the justice system is on autopilot- making crime scenes easier and making criminals confess so that you have a perfect record. The nagging feeling in the back of your mind grows louder and louder. 

You know it. You feel it.  Someone is pulling strings...

A few days pass by. As you enter your office, the first thing you notice is a file placed neatly on your desk- an indicator that you got yourself a new case.

You walk over and flip it open.

There it is. 

Nishimura Riki.

The most wanted serial killer in the city. 

You aren't even surprised anymore. You’ve said the name often, seen it written across countless headlines, articles, reports, evidence sheets- it might as well be imprinted in your brain by now.

You get his cases often, it's like clockwork. Once in every three cases which took you no time to solve and are practically solved by themselves, his case awaits on your table.

A new one every time, only on your desk like the case only wants to be solved by you and no one else. 

His cases are different, they make you work, really work. 

They demand your attention, challenge your logic and wake up the parts of your brain which have been rusted due to the regular cases.   Riki’s trail is cold.

His victims are killed unusually, are scattered, his patterns are confusing and if you are being honest to yourself, the only common piece in his puzzles is, you.

All of his cases only ever come to you and with each murder of his, it's like the universe is leaving his case for you to actually solve.

And beneath the pressure and fear, you almost feel relief because for once, you aren't being handed the answer. You are chasing it  

As you are about to dig through the file, you get a call. The sound cuts through the silence like a blade.

“Ms.Y/n? We found a body. Linked to Nishimura. You are needed on-site. Now.”

You are already grabbing your coat, your mind preparing what to expect from him.

The alleyway is damp, cold and silent, completely as if its untouched by the chaos of the city around it. The streetlights flick, casting that glow on the body surrounded by rainwater.

You duck under the yellow tape. The officers nod at you, their faces pale. You nod back at them and look at her.

Female, early thirties. Clean, untouched except for the severe wound on her head. She has been posed. Elegantly, like someone took their time- as if it wasn't a murder but a performance.

What caught your eye was the folded piece of paper in her hand. You kneel and gently take the paper with gloved hands. You freeze as you open it.  

It was a page torn from a novel- not just any novel- your favourite novel. The one that you mentioned briefly in an interview a year or two ago. No one ever bought it up again.   The highlighted sentence, which was underlined by read ink reads,  

“The hunter always smiles when the prey finally notices the traps.”  

Your stomach twists. Because you know- this isn't just a message- it's an acknowledgement. 

Acknowledgement that he’s watching you- not just your work but you.

And you don't know how to feel about that.  

After inspecting the place, collecting evidence and talking to the nearby people you return to your office.

You walked into your office, but something was wrong. You locked your door- you were sure of it.

Yet there it is. On your chair. A plain black envelope. You quickly closed the door as you tear open the wax seal.  

Jae was wasting your time.   I handled it, you're welcome.  You shouldn't have to clean their messes.  You are meant for something greater- for me  Tune out the voice, love. I'm the only sound worth hearing.  Think smart, Detective This game is ours   - Your R 

You sit down slowly, the wait of the message heavy on your chest  And you feel it- he's taking control of everything around you.

Watching your every move.

Eliminating every distraction.  

For what?

For you.

You begin to notice the small things first.

The coffee on your desk, still hot and made the way you like it, even though no one was in the office when you arrived. 

Your favourite pen- the one with the broken cap with no ink left- replaced by a new one.

Same colour. Same brand.

A hair tie on your desk whenever you chose to leave your hair loose.

Always made your skin crawl and made you look around you to see if someone was watching you. 

Your instincts tell you to file a report, but something stops you.

You're a detective- why would you need another detective to help you?

That's what you told yourself.  

This felt like more than surveillance. It felt like intimacy 

Riki isn't just watching you work. He somehow made his way into your routine... Inside your life. 

And the worst part?

You don't tell anyone- Why?

Because you are scared you'll be mistaken for paranoid rather than being right. 

And that’s why you haven't been yourself lately.

You are always thinking. Something or the other runs through your mind 24/7. You haven't been able to sleep properly, fear clinging to you at night- the fear of being watched which caused you to not be energetic and more "alive-looking" in the morning.

And maybe that's the reason why you were seated across from Jun-ha after work hours in a café.  

"Ok. C'mon y/n, what's going on with you?" Jun-ha asks unable to comprehend why you have been like this for the past week or so.  

You chuckle awkwardly, "What do you mean, I'm doing just fine".

Jun-ha gives you a "Are you really fucking with me right now" look and says, "You know what I'm talking about, you look like a panda with your eye bags, you are always zoning out and you just look paranoid all the time." 

There it is.

Exactly what you feared- people thinking you’re paranoid, when in reality, you are right. Someone Riki is watching you. 

You don't want other people to perceive you as paranoid or delusional. So, you dismiss his worries and not-so-wrong accusations and say, "I'm just tired of dealing with his cases"

Jun-ha looks at you sympathetically, knowing who him means, "Ah I get it, his cases are so time consuming and hard- I wonder how you do it. Just be careful"  

You nod at that as you drink your latte, the bitter taste staying in your throat.

After a few days, an autopsy report lands on your desk.

Victim: Male, age 27 Time of death: Between 2am-4am Cause of death: Cardiac arrest (supposedly). 

You stare at the report, unease setting in your gut.

Something was wrong.

You visit the alleyway where the body had been found. The place covered with yellow "crime zone do not enter" tape and surrounded by multiple professionals.

You greet them briskly and make your way towards the scene. But you don't look at the body. No- you look around it. 

Your eyes catch a half-opened water bottle lying a few feet away holding a small amount of liquid.

With gloved hands, and after confirming with the forensic team, you carefully pick it up and bring it closer.

You unscrew the cap and take a cautious sniff.  

Minerals.

Sharp.

A chemical aftertaste that shouldn't be there.

Poison.

You sent it to the lab for testing- and the results came back quickly.

Confirmed.

Cyanide.

Cyanide- the silent killer. Efficient. Fast. And almost undetectable in standard reports, making it every seasoned criminal’s best friend and making it easier for them to get away with it.

But not on your watch.

Determined, you proceed to your next lead: Lee Haneul, the victim's girlfriend.

She's devasted when you met her- blood red eyes, trembling hands- but she’s cooperative.

"He left around midnight” she sniffles, “said he needed some air to clear his mind. He took his phone, headphones and his wallet"  

You nod, scribbling your notes, "Before this... did he mention anything strange? Anything bothering him? Weird behaviour?” 

She hesitates, then murmurs, "He... he said he'd been getting these creepy messages. Anonymous ones. He brushed them off — thought it was just one of his crazy stalker fans. He posted singing covers online... had a following."  

You thank her gently, offer your condolences, and leave, mind already racing.

Back at your office, you immediately request access to the victim’s phone — the password provided willingly by Haneul. 

You get his phone, and you extract the texts- there it is.

The last message received before his death: "Want to hear a song that ends with your last breath?"

You feel your skin crawl. 

You run the sender’s IP number.

It's a burner. Obviously.

But you trace its last activity, a ping from a local library. You head to the nearby library and review the footage along with your team.

There. A hooded figure. Tall. Black hoodie. Walked out at 1:47 AM.

You zoom in.

A janitor’s badge clipped to his chest. You track him down with the help of the authorities.

His name: Park Minjae.

Minjae is pale as a ghost under the harsh lights of the interrogation room  

"I-I didn't kill him!” he stammers, wide-eyed.

“I swear, I just saw someone dragging something in the alleyway, I got scared- so I hid" 

You lean forward, "Why didn't you call the cops?"  

He swallows thickly. "Because... because he saw me. He looked me dead in the eyes and then he smiled. Like he knew I'd keep quiet" 

You narrow your gaze.

“And this message.” You ask, showing him the threatening text.  

He widens his eyes and shakes his head frantically. "No! My phone broke a few days ago. I got it repaired but afterward, it started acting weird — random messages being sent, glitches everywhere. Turns out... it got hacked."   

He's telling the truth. You know it in your gut.

"Do you remember his face?" You ask quietly. 

"Uh y-yeah I do"  

You nod and show him a photo- Nishimura Riki mug shot. 

Recognition flashes instantly across Minjae's face.  "That's him! That’s the guy!" 

Which means...

Riki left a witness.

That's sloppy. Thats not like him- at all. 

Was it just a mistake? Or was it something else?

You began thinking- thinking of anything that could help your case move forward. 

And then it clicked. 

Cyanide.

There are only two registered mineral industries in the city who had legal authority over cyanide.

You immediately dispatch teams to both. 

One industry reports a suspicious transaction a week prior — security footage confirms it: a man matching Riki’s build, wearing a mask. 

Under pressure, the supplier, Lee Seo-Jun, folds quickly under interrogation. 

And when he does, he gives up an address. 

Registered under the name Kang Tae-jin- A name connected to exactly nothing.

A perfect ghost.

Until now. 

Your team gears up and storms the listed property — a sleek, modern house nestled in the city's quieter outskirts. 

Guns raised, shouting orders, you breach the door. 

And there he is. 

Nishimura Riki.

You visit the jail’s visiting room. It's quiet. Unsettling. 

He’s already there.

Handcuffed, relaxed, sitting like he owns the room.

His eyes lift the moment you walk in. 

And for the first time, you look him in the eye. 

Not through photographs. Not across crime scenes.

Here, In person. 

“Y/N,” he murmurs. “Finally.” voice soft—softer than you imagined, almost delicate. 

"You're earlier than I expected," he says, tone almost... proud. Proud of you- your skills.

His eyes glint.  “Though I didn’t want you to find me yet,” he says softly. 

He shakes his head, “You were beautiful out there,” he says even softer. 

The silence thickens, pressing up against the walls. 

You finally break it.  “Why? Why all of this? Why the murders, the notes, the chase?” 

He leans in, and for the first time, the smile drops. 

“Because you weren’t supposed to waste yourself on simple men and simpler crimes. They don’t deserve your mind. I do.”

You feel your stomach twist. “You killed them to get my attention?” 

“No. I killed them to clear your schedule.” 

“Riki—” 

“No,” he interrupts, voice rising just a little. “You were drifting. Getting tired. Losing yourself in noise. I fixed that.” His gaze pins you on the spot. 

“You’re here. With me. And don’t tell me it’s because of the law.” He tilts his head slightly, smile inching back. 

“Because we both know—you wanted this too.” 

You stare at him, heart hammering. Unsure if the chill running down your spine is fear… or something else.  

He leans back, eyes still on you.

"I told you this is our story, baby"

You don't know what makes you stand up- rage or disgust or the terrifying part of you that understands him a little too well. 

Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor.  Riki’s eyes follow your movement lazily, like a wolf watching its prey. 

You want to leave.  You should leave.  But you don’t. 

Instead, you lean closer.  Hands flat on the cold table separating you from him. 

"You're sick," you whisper. 

His smile grows, slow and poisonous.

"I'm devoted," he corrects, voice warm like he’s confessing love — not murder. 

You clench your fists, trying to steady your breathing. 

"You destroyed lives. Families. You ruined people just to get to me Riki"

Riki tilts his head, handcuffs clinking softly with the movement. 

"Ruined?" he echoes. 

"I think of it more like... rearranging the world around you.” 

You open your mouth — 

but he leans in so fast, so close, you freeze. 

Only inches between you and him now. 

And when he speaks again, his voice is barely a breath: 

"You feel it too, don't you?" 

His eyes are searching yours, merciless. 

"The world makes sense when you're with me." 

Your throat tightens. 

You can't move. 

Can't think. 

His next words are quieter than a whisper — a blade against your skin: 

"You were always mine to catch, Detective."

The guard bangs on the door, warning that visiting time is over. 

You step back, almost stumbling, heart hammering against your ribs.

Riki watches you go, a soft smile curling at his lips — 

as if the real game has only just begun. 

The door slams between you, but you swear you still feel his gaze. 

Watching.  Waiting.  Smiling...

PART TWO YET TO COME...

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

A/n: Hey guys! Writing is not my thing so sorry if it wasnt up to your expectations! And let me know if you guys want to be added in the taglist! Part two is in the making so stay tuned! Hope you guys like it! I literally was literally a second away from ripping my hair off due to exhaustion. Anyways! This is officially one of the longest fic ive ever wrote....... PLease show alot of love! ALSO THE DIVIDERS R FROM THE VERY TALENTED : @uzmacchiato @enchanthings @kodaswrld THANKS GUYS!!!!!!! ENJOY!

[arcane-vagabond]

Stranger Like Me: Prologue

Stranger Like Me: Prologue

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Content Warnings: Talk of loneliness, Inaccurate scientific descriptions and terminology, Flirty Frank, Allusions to loss of parents, Talk of reintegrating someone into society. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 1,389

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

You had a running theory that there were two types of people in this world: plant people and animal people. You? You were most definitely an animal person. Growing up, you visited the zoo frequently, the employees practically knowing you by name. You did your best to memorize as many facts as you could about the different animals in each exhibit, knowing from an early age that you wanted to work with animals for the rest of your life.

You’d spend hours at the primate exhibits, watching the way the different apes and monkeys interact with each other, and you wished you could fast forward to the moment where you got to study it day in and day out.

So, you worked hard, graduating high school with honors before moving on to study zoology in undergrad, and then skipping straight to your doctorate program after that. It had been a long, grueling road that left little time for much else, but it was your passion, and once you had been greeted with the title of “doctor,” you knew it had all been worth it.

That didn’t stop your bouts of loneliness though. While your friends all went out to party, you were usually found with your nose buried in a book. And it wasn’t like you wanted to go out partying, but it still hurt when your friends stopped asking.

And then there was Frank Langdon, your handsome best friend of several years who knew he looked good and never failed to own it. The two of you had met in the early days of undergrad, having been partnered up in a biology lab, and you had hit it off immediately. Jake wasn’t interested in primates, his focus turned towards botany of all things, but he loved to tease you about your love of great apes.

“A cute girl like you studying monkeys?” He had chuckled with a shake of his head, bright, blue eyes glimmering with mischief. “You must have had a wild fascination with Boots the monkey, huh?”

“First of all, peabrain,” you scowled at him, fighting back the smile that threatened to take over your face as his jaw dropped, “I study apes, not monkeys. Second of all, my fascination with Boots is none of your business.”

“Whatever you say, Boots.”

And the nickname had stuck. It followed you through undergrad and all the way through to your now budding career as one of the leading researchers in gorilla social structures. Which is also how you found yourself invited to the North Island Research Camp in the Republic of the Congo.

The camp wasn’t some grand research center, but it was well respected amongst the scientific community for gathering the most up-to-date research and hands-on experiences between researchers and local fauna. The camp was run by Dr. Michael Robinavitch and Dana Evans, both legends within the field and rarely opening up their camp to other researchers. You had been thrilled to receive the invitation, and even more thrilled when you found out that Frank had also received an invitation to the camp to continue his research on tropical plants.

The two of you had made plans to fly out of New York at the same time, even choosing to stay at his place the night before your flight.

“The early bird gets the worm, Boots!” He chirped, loading up the trunk of the Uber with your luggage. How he was so cheerful at three in the morning was beyond you.

“I don’t even think the worms are awake,” you had muttered, earning a snicker.

The flight to your destination was uneventful, choosing to catch up on some of your reading as well as sleep for the majority of the flight. The two of you were greeted by a timid, young man once you departed the plane, his demeanor relaxed but his face shy as he helped you with your bags.

“I’m Dennis,” he said, loading the back of his jeep with your belongings. “You can just call me Whitaker, though. Everyone else does. I’m helping out Robby and Dana with their research. The other researchers are already at the camp. They got here about a month ago.”

“Robby?” You asked him, hopping into the front seat of the car as Frank clambered into the back.

“Yeah,” Whitaker nodded, already making his way through the city and towards the jungle. “Dr. Robinavitch prefers it if you call him that, actually. Says it saves time, though I don’t know if you can really waste time out here.”

“Who’re the other researchers?” Frank asked, eyes scanning the crowds of people as the jeep zoomed towards the edge of the city.

“Yeah, uh,” Whitaker stuttered, narrowly veering out of the way of a cart. “There’s, uh, Victoria Javadi. Her research focuses on ants and their effect on nutrient cycling and seed dispersal. Then you have Trinity Santos who’s doing research on the impact of big game hunters on the ecosystem. Then we have Melissa King and her research into termite colonies.”

“Mel’s gonna be there?” Frank asked, leaning forward with a grin. You rolled your eyes at him. Mel and Frank almost went as far back as you two did, having first met in a chemistry course his junior year and her freshman of college. While you and Frank had gone to the same university for your doctorate programs, Mel had ventured elsewhere, making a name for herself within the world of entomology. The two together were almost insufferable.

“You two better behave,” you groused, settling into your seat with a glare in his direction.

“Boots,” he gasped, placing a hand over his heart in faux hurt, “I am absolutely shocked that you think we would be anything other than complete professionals.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” you snapped, turning to face Bob who glanced at you two wearily. “Those two are going to be a nightmare, I’m just warning you now.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” he chuckled.

The three of you settled into a comfortable conversation as Whitaker continued to drive towards the camp, the jungle becoming denser the longer he went. Soon, the sun was hidden behind the canopy, and you got the sense that you were truly in the wild.

“Are you sure about this, Dana,” Robby hummed, hands clasped firmly in front of him as he eyed his fellow researcher. Dana spared him a smile, running a hand through her hair as she sat on the bench opposite her companion.

“He’s been on his own for decades, Robby,” Dana grimaced, glancing into the trees. “He deserves to know companionship beyond just us.”

“He has Whitaker.”

“He deserves more than just three other people in his life,” she amended, rolling her eyes. “We’re lucky we found him when we did, otherwise I’m not sure he would have survived much longer on his own. Besides, he’s growing more and more curious, and I think it’ll be good for him to meet new people. Let him learn about the world.”

Robby hummed at that. Of course, Dana had a point. They couldn’t keep the man isolated for forever. He was already butting heads more and more with the troop leader and spending more nights in the observation tower as a result. It also wasn’t like Robby wanted to keep him isolated for selfish reasons. No, quite the opposite in fact. The man had spent most of his life right there in the jungle, never having contact with another human being until the two researchers had opened up the research camp once more twenty five years before.

And that’s what had Robby so apprehensive. The man had little to no experience with humans, and what he did have was from the time spent with the two researchers who weren’t exactly the greatest of company at the best of times. How would he react to a camp full of people younger than him? Would it be too much?

“Jack is smart, Robby,” Dana continued, knocking her knuckles against the table. “He’s already been asking questions about the people in the movies and photos he sees. He wants to know about the outside world. Let’s let him have that chance.”

Robby didn’t answer. Instead, he sighed, leaning back in his chair. This would be good for Jack. It had to be.

A/N: posted this today as a treat for @baezen my beloved lol Let’s see if it’s as popular this time as it was with the TGM fandom…

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You peer around awkwardly, unsure of the fine silvery cutlery and which of the forks to use. You can’t help but feel out of place as you’re the youngest at the table; by decades. It’s surreal, like when your mom left you with your great grandparents as a child. She said it would be a few days but it turned out to be a month. They never had you back. 

You fidget and play with the frill along your left shoulder. The asymmetrical cut isn’t your favourite. You’re not sure what high school you was thinking, even if it was only a few years ago. 

“That colour is gorgeous on you,” Frigga preens, forcing you out of your anxious trance. 

You smile sheepishly. “Thanks. I... love your hair pin.” 

She touches the pearl barrette in her hair. “Oh, thank you, dear.” 

He uses the smaller fork, you think, to poke at her salad. You’re not into kale, you find it dense, but you know better to complain or decline. Just like with her son. You gulp and grab your fork. It’s like when your great grandmother made you that olive and cottage cheese delicacy you vomited into her garden. The salad is more palatable. 

You taste it, hoping the task of chewing can save you from talking. They all are exceedingly skilled at that and you don’t have much to offer. If you try, that screaming inside your head might escape to the outside. 

You wince as Thor rests his large hand on the back of your chair. 

“She’s a very clever woman. She works with electronics. Oh, and is she attending classes.” 

You swallow and nearly choke. He’s bragging about the lamest things in your life. Your job is boring and you don’t really do anything with the computers yourself. And classes... you’re just trying to pad your resume. 

“It’s very important to get an education,” Odin intones. “What’s more important is what you do with it. I spent a fortune on two engineering degrees for this one...” he shakes his head. “And look where he ended up.” 

You’re even more confounded by that revelation. Thor? An engineer? What on earth got him put in prison? You try not to delve too far into that riddle. It’s probably best to ignore that. How many red flags did you already ignore? What’s another. 

“It’s nothing special. Just... business admin. Basic stuff,” you shrug.  

Frigga’s eyes narrow and Odin tilts his head. They aren’t impressed and they shouldn’t be. That might be something. If they don’t approve of you... 

“And... I’m stuck with my parents still so... you know...” You add. 

“She is saving money. For us,” Thor assures. “You know things are difficult these days and father always said there is value in hard work.” 

“Mm, so I said,” Odin drawls. “Certainly, I hear your brother took that to heart. I hear he’s hired help.” 

“Oh?” Thor sniffs. “And still he could not come see me?” 

“He has not come to see all of us. Your mother only chanced upon him herself. Hasn’t even the time to pick up the phone for her--” 

“He is busy,” Frigga assures Odin as she pets his hand. “He will be here for your father’s birthday. That is what matters. And his assistant, she was darling. Though he was in a state. You know how he can be. Perhaps you might ask his advice, Thor. He could help you find some work.” 

“Hm, I suppose I could try asking,” Thor shifts, retracting his hand from the back of your chair. “I am not helpless. I have plans...” 

“Yes, son, you have told us the same many times. I believe the day before your sentencing,” Odin scoffs. “A bit old now to be falling back into bad habits.” 

“Father. I’ve turned myself around and she,” he reaches over to take your hand, your fork scraping your plate, “will keep me straight.” 

“Right,” Odin crosses his arms and leans back. “Don’t tell me so, show me.” 

“Father, I--” Thor clears his throat.  

Silence rises with a rippling tension. You look between his parents. You piece together the few clues you have. You can’t really begrudge them their doubt. You have your own. 

“Well, I have one in particular,” Thor pushes his chair back and keeps hold of your hand.  

He slides your fork free and puts it on the table. You peek up at him, confused. He kicks his chair back and he turns, lowering himself to one knee with a grunt. He digs in his pocket with his other hand and pulls out a band with a large diamond sparkling in the light. 

Frigga gasps and you gurgle. Odin sighs. 

“My queen, how I’ve waited so long for us to be together and now I can’t hardly wait for it to be. Please, will you make me your king?” He holds up the ring. You could fold over and evaporate into the floor. Sweat glazes over your face and your scalp itches. What do you say? 

“Um,” you sniff and blink. Your options are many. You really don’t have any. You’re too afraid of even saying no to him. Even with witnesses. “Yes?” 

He squeezes your hand and you let out a fluttery noise. Your heart is thumping, deafening you as the world pinpoints to his grip on you. He opens his hand and slides the ring onto your finger. You stare at the large rectangle diamond framed in smaller diamonds on a gold band. It must be expensive. 

A chair scrapes and you wince. You look over as Odin clucks and turns on his heel. He swipes up his can from against the table and marches out. Not a word, not a look. You look at Frigga as she gives a gentle smile. 

“He’s in shock, I think,” she says. 

You glance at Thor as he stares after his father. His face falls. He lets go of you and gets up, another groan as he does. He sits in his chair and frowns. 

“I thought he’d be happy,” Thor mutters. 

“Oh, of course he’s happy for you, son,” she affirms and reaches across to her son. He takes her hand. “I am. Don’t you worry.” 

“He didn’t say anything,” Thor sneers. 

“Thor, it’s been a lot. You’ve been away from us for so long and now this... it’s all very sudden. We’ve just met this lovely woman.” She looks at you kindly. “What are your plans? For the wedding?” 

“I have my trust,” Thor recoils and crosses his arms, almost petulant. At his size, the bratty demeanour is almost laughable. “I was not entirely unproductive in prison. I only ever did what needs to be done. Mother, you know I am not a cruel person. I’ve made mistakes, I admitted them. And you all hold it against me.” 

“No, we don’t, darling--” 

“You do! But only my diamond forgive me. She is so kind and--” he huffs. “He couldn’t even stay and face me. Congratulate me. Worse, he’s disrespected my future wife.” 

Wife? You could faint. You brace the sides of the chair to keep from doing just that. 

“Dear,” Frigga’s eyes meet yours. “Are you unwell?” 

You shake your head. You lean forward and catch yourself against the table. You reach for the tall glass by your plate. 

“I only need water,” you assure her. 

“Mm, yes, we shouldn’t let all this go to waste,” she tuts. “You know, your father just needs time. He is like you and your brother. You only need simmer in your thoughts then you come to sense. Eventually.” 

🩷

Leaving brings both relief and dread. You are glad to be free of the repressive exuberance of Thor’s family estate but uneasy at the prospect of being alone with him. Again. 

You sit in the passenger seat and stare at your hand. The large stone is as heavy as a boulder. You are not Sisyphus. You’re not sure how much further you can get it up the hill. 

“I am so happy. Are you?” He asks. 

You sit up and suck in a thick breath. You are many things. Afraid, lost, almost mourning. You regret being so stupid. Those idiotic emails were only meant to be... well, an ego boost. You are so pathetic, you wanted desperate men to tell you lies. And you told your own. 

“Thor,” you utter cautiously. “It’s a very nice ring and a very nice gesture but... I’m still very young and I don’t have much. I think maybe--” You pause and weigh your words; does the boulder roll back to the bottom of the hill? “Maybe that’s why your dad wasn’t happy. Because I’m not—not the right person for you right now--” 

He slams on the brakes. You squeal as the seat belt keeps you from hitting the dash. A car honks and serves around him. He ignores them. 

“Not right for me? You are the only one for me,” he insists. “My queen, you said yes to me.” 

“I did. I—I didn’t want to have this conversation there. It’s not that... It’s... I’m... I have to finish school and right now isn’t good for me--” 

“You don’t need school. I will take care of you--” 

“Thor, I can take care of myself--” 

“It is my job to take of you,” he snarls. 

You lean away from him, startled by his deeper tone. In the cabin of the truck, he is even bigger. You wipe your sweaty hand on your skirt. 

“It’s very sweet of you but--” 

“You said yes,” he growls. 

You blink, eyes tinging with moisture. You wet your lips. Your throat is scratchy. 

“Yes,” you nod. “Thor... My parents... you know, I think maybe before we decide anything I need to talk to them.” 

“Oh, I will be speaking with this man, this stepfather of yours. I will not be asking anything of him either. I will be telling him,” he says. 

You gulp. While the idea of him intimidating Andy is on the surface amusing, it’s deeply troubling too. You don’t want your family to know anything about Thor. 

“Well, let me talk to them first.”  

Another car honks and you look out the back window. Thor is unbothered by the roadblock he’s caused. You are about to melt into a puddle. 

“Can I be honest?” You ask. 

He stares and nods. The lines in his face trace his displeasure. Your eyes wander to his rounded muscular silhouette and his thick hands. The intrusive thought of them around your neck make you squirm. What if he killed someone? 

“I didn’t tell them yet,” you blurt out. It’s true but still a lie because it isn’t the truth you kept from him. “My family. I never mentioned you. I... never told them about anyone so I think they might be surprised and, so, er, can’t you let me... tell them first?” 

He looks at you. His forehead wrinkles. He exhales through his nose. Another car lays on their horn. He shakes his head and sits straight. 

“I suppose...” he mutters as he hangs his head. The horn continues to blare. 

He grips the wheel and he face twists in agitation. He peels his fingers off and balls his hands to fists. He hits the steering wheel and snarls. 

Before you can react, he taps the button on his seat belt and it retracts. He swings open the door, mindless to oncoming traffic, and gets out of the car. He lands heavy on his feet and marches along the side of the truck. 

You panic and scramble to untangle yourself from your seat belt. You fall out of the truck as you hear him hollering. 

“You honking at me?” Thor barks as he approaches the other car. “You’re messing with the wrong man.” You sprint around the truck bed as he gets to the driver’s window. He bends to snarl through, “why don’t you open up and face me, eh? Coward!” 

“Thor, please, get back in the car,” you scurry over. “Please, we’re in the way--” 

“No, he has no patience!” He hits the top of the car and leaves a dent. You gasp. It looks as if it took him no effort at all. 

The man in the car is frightened. He curls over his wheel and revs in a futile effort to scare away the raging giant. You grab Thor’s hand and pet his forearm. 

“Thor...” you peek once more at the scared driver. It’s your fault. All of this is your fault. “My king.” You coo at him shakily. “Please get back in the truck and take me home.” 

“He is disturbing us! He could go around--” 

“Thor!” You nearly shriek. “How can I marry you if you are so angry? If you do not listen to me?” 

His eyes round and he twitches as if he’s been struck. He looks at you and his face turns grim. “Marry me?” 

“I didn’t-- I wasn’t saying no. I was just saying—asking for some time,” you look him in the eye, caressing him, calming him like a riled dog. “But I can’t marry someone who does these things.” 

He lowers his head. He actually looks guilty. He nods and turns. He bends and taps gently on the window. He waves his hand. 

“Sorry about that. Bad day,” he gives a sheepish grin. “Here.” He lets you go and takes out his wallet. He takes out a couple of bills; each at least a hundred dollars. “For the roof.” 

He tucks the money under the wiper and stands straight. He latches onto you again and drags you away. He sighs out the tension. 

“You are right, my queen.” He says. “This is why I need you. To keep me in my right mind.” 

[crush-itis]

HALLOOOO GURRRLL !! HOWW ARE YOUU ?? I'M HEREEE TO REQUEST !! AND IT'S BEEN STUCK IN MY HEAD FOR A WHILE ! (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

SOOO i saw a lot of lilia x human!reader but not lilia x fae!reader(i saw a few of them) SO! Lilia and reader have been married ever since lilia was a general! they have been taking care of the boys together ever since the boys were little (Silver, malleus and sebak) Silver see reader as his mother and malleus kinda see reader the same way like silver (?), and sebak respect her just like lilia! Soo the story is the reader secretly visit the boys and snuck in the diasomnia like it's been years they haven't seen each other but still keep in contact by latters~! And when the boys find out about this, lilia was excited to see her only for reader to have all her attention to the boys(her children-) and babying them instead of him! and only got scolded by the reader(she's a bossy wife) for giving her children his homemade foods all this years(silver complain about it to reader) and his kinda sulking about it and being dramatic a little

Sorry for my bad English since it's not my first language and I also hopee my request isn't too much !! (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

ㆍ 𓎟𓎟 ⑅ ⠀FAMILY REUNION !

tags ⠀short, fluffy + few suggestive themes, fae!reader

w.c ⠀1031

a/n ⠀thank youu for the ask!! im so sorry if i didnt make the characters act accurately (idk how to write a happy family) but also im doing okayyy, thank you ^ - ^ 🤍

songs coming home, flaming hot cheetos, puppy love, melting

Browning love letters, stamped with outdated, faerie imperial insignias, they crumple, and collect dust from the top shelf they’re stacked in.

You traced a finger against a special love letter from Lilia, brushing your fingertips against the cursive letters, and the wacky doodled picture of you.

You had been resting in the drawing room on the left wing of your hearty mansion.

Your servant had prepared an ornate, gold tray filled with the love letters exchanged with your beloved.

You usually reread your favourites in your free time.

It was something to remember Lilia for.

Although the two of you were still married, and still very much in love, the distance between you two made it harder for you to cope in your stuffy, lonely, and cold manor.

You couldn’t even call it your home anymore ever since Lilia had left.

“Lilia” was what you truly considered your home.

Perhaps it was time to finally visit him for all these years.

With your engagement ring strapped snugly around your finger, you swooped into your carriage, dolled up, gown and all.

The carriage rattled off to your destination: Night Raven College.

It was one… odd school.

When you stepped inside, your heels clacking against the hardened gravel, you felt the eyes of young students pour on you.

It was an academy full of eccentric pupils…

They must be wondering who you were.

Silver had fallen asleep (again) on school grounds.

Specifically, the green fields just next to Diasomina.

His head rested on the hard, jagged planes of tree bark, and the fluffy, tallish grass he laid on served as a comforting blanket, and mattress.

A bit of sunlight feathered on his sleeping face, slumbering away under the shade with no care for his stacking homework.

He’ll get it done in a jiffy anyway.

With Silver still asleep, you spotted your once baby boy lying comfortably on a bed of grass.

Silver felt a tickle on his side.

His brows knitted close together, and in the middle of his dreams drew away.

He stirred awake, and found himself gasping at the appearance of his mother.

“Boo!” you chuckled, and booped his nose.

“Mother?” Silver let out a shaky breath.

“Shh! We have to surprise your father.” you hushed his mouth before gently grabbing his arm, standing him up.

You removed the leaves caught on his silver-chrome hair, grinning at the timid youngster.

You also couldn’t help but squish, and squeeze his cheeks, cooing at his now grown face.

“You look just like a flower!” You were still babying Silver in his big age.

Silver blushed, abashed by your antics.

He was definitely not expecting your sudden visit.



It felt like Mother’s Day.

Silver led you to the dormitory—the glum, dark shades a stark contrast between your bright, sunny smile.

It took a lot of convincing for you to finally get Silver to help you sneak into Diasomnia.

It was your first time here, and you were getting so much attention again.

You didn’t mind the sea of eyes on you, but you most definitely minded the retchy smell stuffing the halls.

You did not see a female in sight.

There were only male students walking about in sweaty uniforms.

They all caught an unpleasant aroma.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, reaching a gloved hand to cover your nose.

It was a great thing Lilia had taught Silver proper hygiene.

Still walking away, you began to hear the footsteps of a peculiar young man.

Silver also heard a loud, screechy voice along with it.

A snarky silhouette followed, and there goes the familiar, bright green hair.

“Sil-“ the loud, beaming voice suddenly lowered as his eyes turned to the lady next to Silver.

His eyes widened, and his mouth gaped wide open. “Lady Vanrouge!” He squeaked.

“Sebek,” you smiled softly at the boy. He was still the same after all those years.

He always stuck close with Silver, and your husband, Lilia. You remember him being one of Lilia’s pupils.

“How old are you now?” you chuckled, ruffling Sebek’s hair.

“I am sixteen now, and I have grown into a respectable gentleman!” He still had that loud, prideful voice.

You smiled at that, nodding. “That’s amazing!” you applauded him.

“But may I ask, what are you doing here, miss?” Sebek blinked, and Silver hummed in curiosity as well.

“Well, I missed you guys, silly! And of course his father too.” you reached to playfully pinch Silver’s nose, making him squeal.

“Ah, yes. I still remember your wedding.” Sebek nodded vigorously. He respected you just as much as he respected Lilia.

Sebek’s heart hammered away in his chest from happiness.

With the trio now off to surprise Lilia, they found Malleus along the way.

His nose was stuck between the pages of a non fiction.

“Your Highness,” you poked Malleus’ side. He shivered, his attention quickly steering away from his book.

He was still ticklish as ever.

“Y/N?” He blinked.

He was more confused than shocked.

It was adorable.

You pinched his nose.

With the whole group now, they finally arrived at Lilia's door.

Malleus knocked, waiting for a pair of scarlet red eyes to peek behind the door.

The door creaked open,

“Boo!” You twinkled your hands for a crazier effect.

Lilia was just as surprised as the boys were.

Even more when you decided to spend more time with the kids rather than him.

Lilia pawed at your waist, trying to grab your attention like a flimsy, irritating bat going through its breeding season.

The whole family hung around in Lilia’s dorm, skipping class as they watched a comedy.

It was the only time the students relented in attending classes.

The sun began to lower, and the stars began to shimmer, the kids had gone back to their dorms, leaving just the couple alone.

It felt like the two of you were back in your teen years.

Lilia nipped at your ear, whispering sweet nothings.

He bit his lip, yearning for you.

You felt the warmth radiating from his body, and you couldn’t help but giggle sheepishly.

With his hand now snaking for your hip, pulling you closer, Lilia reached to suckle on your throat.

[ryo-kaikura]

Yandere Male Siren x Pirate Male Reader

Tw: yandere, mentions of killing, maybe actual killing, forced abortion

Btw, you're around 180cm, you're slightly a jerk, I made siren autonomy to have both male and female genitalia in both siren form and human form, it's 18+ in more ways than one. I was also slightly horny making *that* scene (⁠◔⁠‿⁠◔⁠)

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You're a captain, the captain of one of the feared pirates, the black skull, but currently you're on a small boat, rowing to a beach… why? Because you're meeting a siren.

Usually, sirens are out to kill but it seems like this one isn't like the rest. He's kind, good looking and has a beautiful voice, his name's Morien.

Though truthfully his name has a slightly eerie meaning… Most parents don't truly think deeply of their children’s names especially when they even threw that children away.

I mean I don't like sirens but Morien is kind. When we first met, I was scouting for a deep enough area to dock, since I was familiar with the rocky area unlike my crew, and sending any of them would lead to their deaths. And even though I knew the area, it seems like I would've still died in a whirlpool that mysteriously showed up. In my almost unconscious state I saw a big black fish tail that seemed to gleam under the little to no sun in the area I was pulled in. I didn't even realize my foot got stuck between some rocks until the black fish tail came around and showed a hand that pulled me to the surface. While being pulled to the surface, I seem to have gone unconscious.

When I came to, a siren, with flowing dark blue hair and skin that seemed to be bathed in milk with its almost near milky white color and a fish tail that seemed like the starry night sky with dark purple and black shine and tiny sparkles as the shine reflects on it, was wrapping my injured leg with a leaf. In an instant I try to get to my sword but realize it's nowhere near me. So I prepare myself for any horror it might show to me… but after 30 minutes it seems l be struggling with the bandage.

‘How cute’ so I called out and the siren seem to be in fear while turning around. And with a squeak he said “imsorryiwaspassingbysawyoustuck *inhale* soItriedtosaveyoubutionlynowhowtobringyoutothwsurface *exhale* plsdontkillme” and you just responded with a chuckle which seems to cause him to turn red. The siren then continued “my name's Morien, what's yours?”as he tilted his head. “Mine's M/n, fishy”

“By the way, aren't sirens supposed to go in groups? Why're you all alone, fishy”

“I was thrown out of the kingdom, since I refuse to lure any humans” “but I'm also lonely since anyone that saw I was a siren would try to kill me, by the way… I put your sword next to me, since I didn't want you kill me :(´◦ω◦｀):”

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After that we talked until the sun was around halfway from setting. And he gave me a bell, where I could just say the location and ring the bell and he would instantly be notified

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After month of doing like this, suddenly I felt the boat steer to the left where I saw it was filled with Rocky areas, the I saw, Morien singing? But it doesn't seem like Morien, and Morien said he was kicked out for not luring humans

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FUCK!!

Those are sirens.

I quickly took control of the ship from one of my crew that had been lured and brought the ship to safety. Later that night when they came to, they were instantly apologizing for falling for a sirens trick. Of course I forgave them, seems stupid not to forgive them since I was also lured but… they don't know that.

After a few more days sailing I saw a man desperately calling for help. So I asked my crew to help him up. But as they were bringing him up, they seemed to be completely whipped by him. The man introduced me and my crew as Caelun. He has dewy light brown skin that's almost white, flowy honey colored hair and green pupils, his height around 170 cm. Though e got everyone whipped, I could care less, in fact its seem I'm excited to meet with Morien.

That night we were able to anchor the boat and I decided to meet with Morien, so I said the location to the bell and rang it before going down on one of my small boats. Unknown to me, a certain honey colored hair is following me but he's not fully human, as where his feet are supposed to be is a fish tail. Not long after, I docked my boat and saw Morien. And like always he seemed giddy to meet with me again. After talking for a while and the moon already at its peak I decided to go back but suddenly Morien suggested bringing him on the ship. I didn't know how, but somehow he was able to turn into a human. So I brought him back with me as I rowed the boat back, unknown to me, the certain honey haired boy was furious.

When I got back, I introduced him to my crew and it seemed like his height's now 175cm and his once flowing hair turned into short messy dark purple hair, after that I gave him his own room and went back to my own. Suddenly I saw Caelun wearing lingerie on my bed, I couldn't seem to look away, somehow, I got hard. Without a care in the world, I went and had fun with Caelun, we did it till morning, where he had bite marks and hickeys that all around his body, cum was still dropping from his gaping cunt that seemed to be unable to close with how long I fucked it open, I'm also praying he won't get a kid cause of this. Cause of the intense fucking we did, I let him rest.

After the refreshing night, Morien seemed to be in a pouty mood all the time.

That night, I went back to my room and saw Caelun wearing new lingerie. Feeling a little pent up, I made him ride me, but unknowingly I gave him a perfect opportunity, while he was riding me, he started singing… not long after I passed out but I still could feel him riding me. When I came to, I felt love bursting out of my heart for him. I shoved my dick till I kept pounding on his cervix which seemed to cause him to squirt endlessly. After that was finished, I started making out with Caelun kissing him and manhandling him to my liking, I kept fucking him over and over again even after r the sun has risen to its peak. After I finish Caelun looks like he's pregnant with how swollen with cum his cunt is. As I want him to be pregnant with my child I took a toy that he seemed to have brought, that is the size of a fist and plugged his cunt so while he's out and about it won't spill.

Later after discussing routes and everything else with my crew, Morien wanted to see me, he started to say how Caelun is the siren prince and how he kept luring humans. But I didn't want to hear any of it, so I reprimand Morien for slandering someone else cause of his jealousy and went back to my room and slept with Caelun.

The next morning I made Caelun do some chores on the ship but it looks like every step he took, it made him more and more stimulated till he was overstimulated and kept squirting since I did add an extra toy to tease his clit.

I soon helped him and made Morien clean after the mess.

A few weeks later, after fucking Caelun almost everyday and only cleaning his cunt after he felt sick cause of it, he was finally pregnant. So I hurriedly tried to find a suitable docking place to go and bring Caelun to his parents. After three months I was able to dock, I ordered my crew to take a months vacation and then I brought Caelun deep undersea, I was able to breathe underwater since Caelun help and used one of his singing to make me able p breath underwater.

Why is it that I wasn't shocked he was a siren and a prince, it was because the night Morien said those things, I confronted Caelun, and he told the truth but said nobody was ever kicked out for not wanting to lure humans, since it not like any humans were kicked out since they didn't want to hunt.

After that day my distrust for Morien grew. Somehow, I realized Morien was following us to the kingdom, I have to protect my baby.

Later, I brought Caelun to the king and we chatted, and I agreed to help raise Caelun’s children.

Later that week, Morien found me while I was exploring the kingdom and asked to talk. Not long after, he started singing and then I realized Caelun had caused me to hate and distrust Morien even though Morien saved me and even though the king felt like a nice person, it turns out him and Caelun had hidden motives, so wanted to leave with Morien but Morien said he had something to do.

A few days later

I went back to the kingdom after Morien didn't come up and visit me. I'm glad the spell still worked, so I went to check on Morien, just to see him get told his crimes?!! I won't stand for this.

I ready my sword and lunge at the guards, causing a commotion. I hurriedly took Morien and swam as fast as possible away from the kingdom.

But unfortunately, I was never faster than those born under the sea. After getting caught, Caelun was shocked to see I was helping Morien. He kept asking if my promise to help him raise our child was a lie. I simply told him that I would never want to raise my child with someone who mind controlled me to have a child with them.

But all Caelun said was “hah! Why would I, a prince, try mind controlling you, I don't need to try to do that, when I want something, then I will get it, anyway, I'm already pregnant with your babies, and you'll need to take care of it” while a look of disbelief and confusion was shown on his face.

Then I saw a rumbling behind me and heard Morien shout “don't disrespect him, when you have no basis, I as the second prince and successor of one of the great sea serpents shall judge the king and his son!!”

After that, Morien judged the king as someone who was unworthy of being the king and listed all the king “crimes”...

Huh…

Why did I put quotations as if I know Morien is saying baseless crimes…

Haaahhh… must've been the lingering mind control.

Soon Morien lunged at the king and pulled his heart out, seeing such a gruesome scene, Caelun passed out. Then I heard Morien asking the guards to drag the unworthy first prince to the dungeon.

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Morien's POV

Son of a bitch, Caelun was able to destroy my mind control on M/n, and even though M/n didn't realize it, the one who saved him wasn't me, but Caelun, no matter, I'll just kill him and the children that bitch made with MY mate.

I went back to the kingdom that knew I was the star of destruction but didn't treat me any differently, and started my 10 year long plan. What is my 10 year long plan? Taking complete control over the kingdom. Originally I was going to be kind to the king and kill them after the king is old and dying but after I saw Caelun go outside the barrier and save a human, I fell for the human and decide to jump star my plan. So I warned Caelun that his father was searching for him but in truth, his father didn't need him for anything. I just needed a perfect time and place to start my ego.

(In my world, Ego's are ancient powers everyone has but nobody knows about this anymore since less and less people has been using their ego's because it's much easier to use magic, since if their ego's are attacked of damaged it will directly affect the users soul)

What I didn't realize was that after I sent Caelun back home, they realized that the prophecy was true, about the fact I am the star of destruction and anyway they treat me, I will end up usurping the throne but it was said that if I found the “one” My desire to destroy would disappear.

Didn't matter though, I had wanted to have the throne since I was small. When I saw that the Mermaids, a creation made by one of the ancient sea serpents, in fact were just the creation of one of the old gods' ego, trying to paint the siren kingdom black. I realized that I might be the star of destruction but not entirely on the siren kingdom, but on another kingdom instead.

Afterwards, I was just planning on killing the king so I could frame the mermaid royalty. But now, not only do I want to destroy the mermaids but I also want to get rid of the existing challenges in my way, and one of them is Caelun.

The only problem that Caelun pose Is the fact he is completely and at an entirely higher level than me in his proficiency in magic and his singing.

No matter, all I cared is that he is now completely crushed and I have M/n completely under my spell.

Currently I'm going to the dungeon, to see my elder brother in his demise.

“Wakey wakey~, brother.”

“Why are you doing this Morien, I thought you were not gonna complete the prophecy, why are you doing this”

I opened the bars and looked at Caelun's, chained to the wall, heavy belly. Every time I see this abomination, I wish to kill him.

“Hah! And here I thought you were a genius, didn't you know the signature markings on M/n are MINE. You just had to break the spell on him and get pregnant with MY mate's offspring”

“I knew it was yours but it's using that spell means I you were to order him to die he will kill himself and that's dangerous, what if someone mimics your voice”

“That's true but you need not worry, in fact, I already have it under control. Anyways, aren't you curious why you said those things in front of M/n”

“!!! What!!! You were involved with that?!!”

“hah, that funny, I'm shocked you didn't realized, didn't you taste something funny from the food I gave you before you wanted to list my crimes 😊”

“Wha-”

“I laced your food with a puppetry potion, and I forced you to say those things, just to crush all hope My Mate has for you. And now, all I need to do is get rid of those things in your stomach.”

“Wha-, no please, no.”

(Specified gruesome abortion scene, skip this paragraph if you can't handle it)

I started to gather my mana into a black ball of smoke and directly fused it with his stomach, when I saw there's barely any life in it now, I raised my foot and brought it directly on his stomach. Not long after, I saw blood gushing out of his pathetic cunt, and I saw happily as some egg sack skins and egg sack insides came pouring out. It would mean the babies are completely dead.

To make sure, there are none alive I checked using my ego. When I'm sure they're all dead I left. Unknowingly, an egg was still alive but he was able to successfully nurture it.

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A few months later, I finally married and officially mated M/n and decide to live on the surface, after completely blackening the concepts of mermaids to humans, while sometimes taking time to clean up trouble under the sea.

Though, M/n will never realize, I killed his offspring that he had with my brother nor will he realize any girl or boy that flirted with him are now on the dining tables of the sirens. I will make sure of that

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This was supposed to be like the little mermaid but if Ariel never realizes Vanessa is Ursula and even though Ariel realizes Vanessa is Ursula, Ursula still won the last battle and completely took over Prince Eric’s mind. Idk how it went like this… though because of that I switch their names, og

Caelun saves you

You fell for Caelun

Morien and his group lures your boat

You didn't fall for it

Morien turn human cause he want to know why you did get lured

Morien realize u like Caelun and went crazy

Morien mind control causing u to hate Caelun

Caelun gets killed

U and Morien had babies

Morien= Inspired by: Welsh/Celtic roots “mor” (sea) and “ien” (youth or life)(unsure about the ien for youth/life). Romantic and eerie—like a sea spirit who never ages and always takes.

Caelun= Inspired by: Latin caelum (sky/heaven) Caelun is airy, sky-linked, and peaceful—offering a celestial counterpoint to Morien’s dark oceanic lure. Air vs. abyss.

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Out of The Woods

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: You're back and now Eddie's world is upside down. Your string of good luck finally ends.

chapter warnings: slow burn, motherhood, swearing, sexual tension, fluff, 18+ content, references to drugs and alcohol.

a/n: we finally have a lil steamy flashback and an Eddie POV!! ty as always for your patience :)

chapter 4: Kickstart My Heart || series masterlist

MARCH 17, 1986

“Who the hell throws a St. Patrick’s Day party in Hawkins?” You’ve got a Coors Light six-pack in your arms, grumbling your way through the woods.

Eddie chuckled, his hand finding the way to the small of your back. “You implying our town isn’t good enough?” The sarcasm dripped from his words like honey as he helped you avert a fallen tree that laid across the path.

You couldn't see it, but you just knew he had that signature smirk of his plastered all over those perfect pink lips, and you quietly thanked the universe that you couldn’t see it in the darkness the two of you were currently traversing.

Otherwise he'd definitely catch you staring.

“I’m saying,” you try to focus, “if Rick wanted to throw a party, he didn’t need to use St. Patty’s day as an excuse, people woulda came anyways. Now we gotta deal with idiots dressed as leprechauns and pinching every—ow!”

The sting on your hip was a minor one, and Eddie’s grin made any discomfort on your face vanish.

“Gotcha.” He smirked, pinching his fingers together triumphantly.

You continued ahead of him, feeling the heat rush to your face. “Just you wait, Munson…”

He called after you, "Ooo, feeling feisty tonight aren't we, Bug?"

You stuck out you tongue and middle finger in equilibrium.

The feeling in your stomach was new. Being with Eddie was more than just your safe place lately--it felt like home. He felt like home.

You can't be around him for more than ten minutes without feeling like you wanna shove your tongue down his throat, either.

A ten minutes walk through the woods, and lights from Rick’s cabin started to show through the tree line. You knew Reefer Rick’s parties were legendary, and Eddie had never been too keen on bringing you because of it. After all, they’d been raided before, and the last thing he wanted to do was have you face-to-face with Hopper.

Though you’d gotten to know Hop pretty well on account of all the shit with your Dad, and it was something Eddie actively tried to prevent from happening again.

“Hey,” Eddie jogged to your side, putting his free arm over your shoulders. “just…stick close to me okay? If I say it’s time to go, it’s time to go. Deal?”

His tone was loving, but stern. You nodded, those big brown eyes not leaving your face for a second.

“‘Course. But it is just a party Eddie, you’re acting like we’re walking into Mordor or something.”

He kissed the crown of your head at that, the feeling warming your stomach. “C’mon Samwise, let Frodo get you a buzz, hm?”

Inside was exactly what you pictured it would be. Wasted teens and 20 year olds losing their fucking minds.

…dressed as leprechauns no less.

“Told ya.” You whispered to Eddie, earning a wink from him.

He took the beer from you, placing it on the nearest booze-covered table. You didn’t know what to do exactly, but Eddie kept you by his side. The warmth of his palm never left the small of your back as he guided you through the house.

“Yo! Rick!” He shouted over the music.

“Oh, Eddie! What’s shaking, man?”

The two men greeted one another as all men do; a vague hand gesture and something akin to a high-five.

Rick nodded his head at you, “Who’s this?”

“Shit, my bad man.” Eddie apologized before introducing you. Rick bowed politely, and you laughed, instantly understanding why he and Eddie were friends.

“Welcome to the castle, faire maiden. Try not to get in too much trouble, okay? I don’t need your boyfriend kickin’ my ass at my own party.”

Eddie looks at you, an innocent laugh bubbling between the two of you.

Maybe Rick didn’t know you two weren’t…

You need to correct him.

Right?

You should tell him Eddie isn’t your boyfriend. You’re not together like that.

You should, but you don’t.

And neither does Eddie.

“No,” you manage to get out. “no you certainly don’t.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but you feel his hand rub circles on your back gently.

Rick grabbed a few cups, and poured both you and Eddie what he called a 'welcome shot'. It was more of a double...possibly a triple.

Once you’d weaved your way through the crowd, a familiar laugh calls your attention. “Look! Steve’s here!” You point him out, nearly bolting from Eddie’s side. You can tell he’s three-sheets-to-the-wind, but it doesn’t stop you from sneaking up behind him and giving him a big hug.

“Who the—“ the drunken sing-song of your name that leaves his mouth has you giggling. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

Eddie, on the other hand, is seething. Practically shaking with…Anger? Frustration?

No, no. Those feelings are something Eddie is far too familiar with. This? This is new, it’s a churning and rolling storm in his gut.

Jealousy.

He watched as you hugged Steve, as Steve hugged you. Around your waist, the waist Eddie has been glued to all night.

Get it together, Munson.

What the fuck is wrong with him? Steve is your friend, he’s Eddie’s friend. It’s a way you’ve greeted each other hundreds of times before. Yet for some reason, this time it made him want to knock Steve’s head off of his shoulders.

Maybe it's the drunken haze in Harrington's eyes, maybe it's the way your hands linger just a bit too long on his shoulders, but Eddie couldn't take it anymore.

“Hey!” Eddie shouts, and you jump. You’re out of Steve’s embrace now, but the boy’s hand still lingered on your shoulder. “Uh, what about me Harrington? No love for your favorite male companion?”

Steve chuckled, unaware of the murderous thoughts swimming through his friends mind. “Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on Munson.”

“Where’s Robin?” Your voice is barely below a full roar in order to compete with the Van Halen blasting over the stereo.

“Ah,” Steve winked. “Vickie is here. Haven’t seen the two of them in…” Your friend looked at the expensive watch on his wrist, “over an hour.”

The heat in your face nearly had you swooning. “Well…g-good for her. For both of them.”

“I forgot, can’t mention anything about sex in front of this one,” he joked, poking your cheek with the hand holding his beer. “She might get cooties.”

You swatted his hand away, “Just because I haven’t had a penis inside me, doesn’t mean I’m a prude, Harrington.”

Steve truly was kidding, he knew you well enough to know you were simply repulsed by the options at Hawkins High. Sure, you’ve had a few hook ups here and there, but sex was something…different. Maybe it was because there was never a right time, or place.

Or maybe because you’d decided it wasn’t worth losing the one person you actually want to have sex with if things got weird after.

“I’m a Senior now, Steve. It’ll happen soon enough, don’t you worry.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “Who’s gonna be worthy enough? No one here, that’s for damn sure.”

You swallowed hard enough to actually hurt.

Eddie noted the sudden shift in your demeanor, he reached for your hand, but you pulled it away quickly.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink, okay? Anyone want anything?”

Steve raised his beer, signaling he was all set.

Eddie stepped into you. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “Come right back, okay? We’ll be right here, Bug,”

You swear you felt your knees buckle. “Mhm, sure.”

Alcohol. I need alcohol now.

Greeting a few acquaintances, you made your way to the green-colored punch on the kitchen island. Though you were still warm from Rick's version of a shot, you definitely weren't as buzzed as you wanted to be.

“Don’t ask what’s in it.” A girl shouted as she filled her cup. “Just drink up, baby! Woo!”

She stumbled off into the crowd, leaving you to consider whether or not you should be consuming the swamp water in front of you, but then you look back to Eddie.

He’s still right where you left him, stood next to a dancing Steve, only now he’s leaning against the table with his arms crossed, smiling ear-to-ear at the red head in front of him.

Your stomach lurched, twisting itself into a knot inside your abdomen. A brick, leadened and red-hot fell into your gut as you watched her pull down her top to show off the tattoo on her chest.

“Shit…” you spin quickly, grabbing the first cup you find and scooping the booze straight from the bowl. The burn of the alcohol temporarily smothers the feeling as you chug it down.

What more do you have to do? How much more obvious do you have to be? Maybe friends really was it, and all the things you'd built up in your head over time were just...platonic.

Maybe you simply weren’t his type.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You wipe your chin, and see Billy Hargrove leaned against the fridge. “Patty’s not exactly a girl to model yourself after.”

The girl, Patty, is now being groped by two different guys in the middle of all the dancing. “I don’t know, Billy, she looks like she’s having a great time.” You laugh.

Despite his reputation, Billy never bothered you. In fact, it was the opposite. Though it may have been a secret, he had never been anything but kind to you since the two of you got partnered up when he had to repeat biology last year.

Thanks to you, he passed with flying colors, and he’s been nice to you ever since. The two of you also got shoved into a closet last March for a round of seven-minutes-in-heaven. You made out a little, but nothing more.

Billy laughed, opening a beer and offering it to you. You took it embarrassingly quick.

“You’re the last person I’d expect to see here. Who’d you come with, Einstein?”

You rolled your eyes at his old affectionate nickname for you. “Eddie. He’s over there with Steve and the…busty red head.”

As you turn to point him out, your arm hits something—someone. Eddie is there, right behind you.

So close in fact, you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

He’s not looking at you though, his gaze is locked on Billy, and it’s the very definition of if-looks-could-kill.

“Hargrove.” He says flatly.

Billy nods his head up once. “Munson. Don’t mind us. Just having a drink with my adorable little lab partner here.” He taps his beer bottle against yours.

You look up at Eddie, but he still isn’t looking at you. His gaze isn’t leaving Billy’s and Billy isn’t exactly known for backing down.

Eddie was at that same party last year. When you and Billy had emerged from the closet, he looked like he was gonna be sick. Drank himself into a black hole, but you took care of him all night.

“Well then—“ you say suddenly, hoping to ease the tension. “thank you for the beer. See you around, Bill.” You grab Eddie’s hand, and he laces his fingers with yours.

“Anytime, Einstein. You’ve got my number.”

You're sure at that moment, you heard Eddie growl.

The two of you are headed out of the kitchen, back to Steve and the rest of the party, when Eddie starts pulling you instead.

He’s moving quickly through the house, down two hallways, and into the first door that isn’t already shut.

“Eddie what the hell?!” You shout as he shut the door behind him.

“Why were you talking to Billy fucking Hargrove?”

You blink at him, not sure why he’s asking you this. Your beer finds its way to the counter. “He’s one of the few people here I actually know?” It comes out as a question. “He was over by the booze, and he offered me a beer, so I took it.”

“He’s an asshole.”

The glass bottle in your hand bangs against the counter as you put it down. “To you. He’s nice to me, Eddie. The bravado shit is just a show for everyone else.”

Eddie scoffed, “Yeah, I'm sure being nice is all he has in mind.”

Your head shakes involuntarily. “Where the fuck is this coming from? I walked away from you for two minutes and you had a red head and a big pair of tits in you face. You didn’t seem too worried about me then.”

You cross your arms, shielding yourself from what you know is coming. "Why am I here, Eddie? Why bring me here if you just planned on getting laid by the first girl you see?"

He looked disgusted, "I brought you here because I want you here--because everything is better with you around. Why are you worries about some chick with big tits? She was showing me a tattoo she got--" Eddie stopped—sighing. "Forget it, I don't want to talk about her."

Eddie's posture changed, his shoulders relaxed, and he moved closer to you.

“And for the record, I always worry about you.” He whispers.

You don’t speak--simply look into his eyes. The usual soft chocolate-brown color is barely visible. His blown out gaze rakes over your features, stopping at your lips briefly.

His palms run down your arms, making them uncross. “You’re all I fucking think about.”

The thrumming of your heart deafened you, but your best friend wasn’t budging.

“Eddie…”

His hands found your waist. Eddie leaned towards you, pressing his forehead to yours. “Tell me to stop, Bug.”

His nose moved along your cheek as he exposed your neck to his view. He kissed the base of your ear, leaving trails of hot breath and soft pecks along your jaw.

“Don’t,” you moan. “Don’t stop.”

A growl erupted from Eddie as he scooped you up, placing you on the counter.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, kissing the side of your neck. “No fucking idea what you do to me.”

Your breathing was hot and heavy and quick. The soft moans spilling from your lips spurred Eddie on.

“Feels like I’m dreaming, honey.“ He whispered against your lips, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Can…can I touch you?”

You were nodding before he finished the question. "Everywhere...touch me everywhere."

His mouth moved with your own, and Eddie couldn't get enough of you. His hands roamed, never satisfied with the amount of skin he was touching. "You're so fucking beautiful." He growled.

His warm grip slid down your body, past your waist, to grab handfuls of your ass. He pushed you against him firmly, and you felt how hard he was beneath his jeans.

“Eddie I—“

Bang, Bang, Bang!

The pounding on the door made you jump.

“Hey! Some people need to take a leak! Fuck somewhere else!”

The two of you looked at each other, breathy laughs falling in the space between.

“Shit.” He breathed. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

Eddie couldn't see straight--couldn't breathe. The world was collapsing around him and it’s a damn miracle he got home in one piece.

Your voice replayed over and over in his head, though somehow the silence in the trailer he’d taken over from Wayne was deafening.

“Leave, Eddie. There’s nothing left here for you.”

It had been so long, he had almost forgotten.

How his world lost all color when you left. How time started moving in slow motion and fast-forward all at once. The day you left for college was the last time anyone saw him for nearly a year after.

The months that followed were filled with getting high and drinking and not leaving the trailer. He would occasionally go to the Hideout, but only on weekdays, when he knew it would be dead. That stopped after a few visits, it reminded him too much of you.

He couldn’t find a job, let alone keep one. Wayne begged him to return your calls, to go visit you and make whatever was wrong right again. Poor old man had no idea that Eddie couldn’t—he wouldn’t.

He’d finally reconnected with Steve 4 or 5 years ago, and they’d been rocks for each other since. Life as full-fledged adults was pretty fucking tricky, but he and Robin really did make it a whole lot easier. Steve got Eddie a job at Tom's Auto—they do the work for all of his Dad’s clients. The pay wasn’t half bad and Eddie’s been there ever since.

In the beginning, Steve would ask Eddie if he heard from you, hopeful that if anyone would know anything, it would be him. "She's better off." It's all Eddie could muster.

Until tonight, he was sure you were never coming back, and he hoped to whatever God was listening that you were safe and happy. After all, it's been seven years and you’d never been back to Hawkins. Not even when your Dad died, not that Eddie expected you too. To be honest, Eddie wasn’t exactly sad to see the son of a bitch go.

He’d snuck into the funeral—if you could call it that—and waited in the back. Eddie looked over a slew of Plant workers and locals, trying to pick you out of the crowd, but you weren’t there, he was stupid for even hoping you’d be. He didn’t exactly have a plan if you were there, just hoping to catch a glimpse of you, he supposed.

Eddie stumbled to his freezer and pulled out the chilled bottle of Vodka, taking several large swigs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” his forehead pressed against the cool metal of the refrigerator.

How the fuck was he going to do this?

Eddie had no idea you were in Hawkins, but by the looks of it you’d been back for a while. Had you been avoiding him?

She wouldn’t waste her time. He thought.

Where were you working? Did you come back to sell the house? Did someone come back with you?

He couldn’t stomach that last one.

Eddie put the vodka back, slamming the freezer door shut. “God fucking dammit!” He cursed, rubbing his palms over his eyes.

Everything he did was to protect you, to let you have the life he knew you deserved and the future he knew you we're capable of. Even now, he wanted to make sure you were safe, secure...

but that wasn’t his job anymore. It hadn't been for nearly a decade.

Eddie couldn’t disrupt the life you’ve created for yourself, even if some how it lead you back to this hell hole.

So he’ll follow your lead. You want to be invisible? He’ll do his damn best, he won’t be the reason for any more of your heartache.

He swears it.

"And then, Mommy, I...was...flying!" Maggie emphasized with her arms stretched out in the back seat.

"Wow, Mags! That is such a cool dream!"

You turned onto Main Street, and made a bee-line for Duke's Donuts. Friday morning's were equally as special as Friday nights to Maggie because she got to have her favorite glazed donut breakfast.

It was a $1.50 black coffee/donut combo, and you were fine with that.

"Now remember, Mags," you shut her door, and continued the conversation once you're back in the car. Maggie munches her donut gratefully. "Mommy has a job interview today, so I might be a few minutes late--"

Panic floods your veins as you turn the key, and your car doesn't start.

Not only does it not start, it doesn't do anything.

"Shit, shit, shit. No!" You try again in a desperate attempt, but nothing happens. "Fuck!"

"Mommy?" Maggie asked worrily.

You sighed, "I'm sorry, sunshine. Mommy is a little frustrated right now, just...stay here, gimme one second."

"Okay, Mama."

You lift the hood, and check all the standard bits you know how to check. Oil is good, timing belt seems fine...

Thankfully, the counter lady at Duke's was kind enough to let you use their phone to call Steve.

"I got a tow truck coming for it, okay? I'll come grab you and Maggie."

"Steve...you have work, it's fine. We can ride in the tow."

He chuckled through the receiver, "I think you're forgetting I work at a place with my last name on the building, I can skip a day."

He got as laugh out of you, "Well alrighty then, both you and Mags get to play hooky."

"I'll see you soon, okay? 10 minutes max."

Maggie was bummed about missing school, they were having an assembly on fire safety today and she was so upset she wouldn't get to show off how she already knows how to 'Stop, Drop, and Roll.'

But knowing she gets to spend the day with Uncle Steeb definitely made it more bearable.

"Look Maggie-moo, I think he's for us." You pointed at the bright blue tow truck that read Tom's Autobody.

Steve was right behind him.

"Uncle Steeb!" Maggie shouted, jumping into his arms.

"Mags! What did you do to Mom's car, hmm?" He joked, hugging her tightly.

"It wasn't me!" She laughed, "Mama said its a pizza junk."

Steve threw his head back and laughed.

"And was I wrong? Look at it, Steve. It is a...pizza junk."

Maggie watched as the car got loaded onto the truck bed.

"You know, we have plenty of company cars. I could always--"

"No, Steve. I appreciate it, but no. No more hand outs." You said firmly.

Your friend sighed, "It's not a hand out. It's a hand up, ya know, like...like I'm lifting you up? Don't laugh at me, I'm offering to give you a head start, you can't get ahead if you're always behind."

You hugged him tightly, "I know, but I've done it alone this long, we'll be okay."

He knew better than to argue.

Your car set off to the repair shop, and you got into Steve's car to follow. "All set, Mags?"

"Yup!"

Steve put the car in reverse, "Oh but don't be surprise if the bill for the work is paid when you get there."

"God dammit, Harrington."

"Yeah, yeah, love you too. Don't worry, I got one of my best guys working on it just for you."

You rolled your eyes, "Can't wait."