#this is its only chance back into my heart

[ariichive]

JEALOUSY☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

jealous scenarios ft. phainon, anaxa, and mydei!

gen. neutral reader

cw: anaxa is kinda crazy he puts his gun to reader, possessiveness, mentions of violence, fluff, not proofread im so tired :')

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

phainon

phainon was one to pride himself on his natural charm, he was a very easy going guy. the stark contrast between him in battle and off was admirable.

though as much as he hates to admit it, sometimes the warrior takes over his instincts. for instance, right now as he watched the droma’s caretaker openly flirt with you.

it wasn’t just the flirting—though that was annoying enough—it was the way you laughed, the way your eyes softened, the way you didn’t immediately pull away. phainon knew you weren’t his, not in the way that would justify this sudden surge of possessiveness. but logic had never been good at taming instinct.

his fingers twitched at his side, an old habit from years of battle. the part of him that thrived in combat, the part that didn’t hesitate when faced with a challenge, whispered at him to act. it would be so easy to step in, to slide an arm around your waist, to make it clear to everyone in the room—especially to the man standing too close—that you weren’t available.

but that wasn’t his place. not yet, at least. so instead, he forced himself to take a breath, to unclench his fists, to remind himself that he was phainon—charming, laid-back, not the type to pick a fight over something so trivial.

“phainon, this one likes me!”

his stoic expression softened when he realized, in fact, you were talking about the loving dromas and not that man.

phainon smiled gently at your joy, “i can tell, he sure does like you a lot!”

there was a certain edge to his voice that could’ve been missed by onlookers. you gave him a concerned glance, one which he smiled at and didn’t question further.

and yet, when the caretaker let out another laugh, explaining the most basic knowledge of dromas ever, his hand brushing against yours, phainon found himself smiling again. it wasn’t a friendly smile.

“having fun?” he asked, voice smooth but carrying an edge beneath it as he finally approached the two of you.

“yeah—!” you were quick to respond only to look up at phainon and realize his attention wasn’t on you. “phainon..”

“yes my lovely spouse, who i treasure more than any riches and i’d also kill for?” now his attention was focused on you, his smile bittersweet.

the thing with phainon is whenever he looked at you, there was always such intensity.

“don’t start, i’m okay i promise.”

there was a joking tilt to your voice, but it was enough to calm him down.

“now, come over and feed the dromases with me! this one’s name is castor, very sweet we should take him home!”

phainon let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "my love, as much as i would adore bringing castor home, i fear he would not fit through our door."

you laughed, reaching out to pet the dromas, who nuzzled into your touch affectionately. "we could make it work," you teased, "build a bigger door, you're strong enough. or, you know, just let him live in our backyard."

phainon hummed in thought, stepping closer until he was right beside you. "tempting," he mused, reaching out to pet castor. "but then i’d have to compete for your affection, and i don’t think my heart could take it."

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. "oh, please. you already know you’re my favorite."

his grin softened into something more genuine, his blue eyes filled with something tender. "good. because my dearest, you are mine." phainon swears the dromas narrowed its eyes at him (the caretaker did too but phainon was too busy enjoying the memoment with you to get mad all over again).

you burst into laughter as the dromas let out a soft sound, clearly pleased with itself. "maybe if you were as cute as them, you’d stand a chance."

phainon clutched his chest. "wounded. utterly wounded."

but despite his theatrics, he leaned in closer, his hand brushing against yours as you both continued to feed the dromases together, the warmth between you as steady as ever.

...

"y'know, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take one home, then we wouldn't have to come back here. i can't believe that vile man had the nerve to even look at you..!"

"phainon, my dear, we are not actually going to take one home."

"...i like the name kevin, wouldn't you agree, [name]?"

the rest of the day was spent with phainon in your ear.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

anaxa

the carefully crafted lunched in your hands was the least of your worries as a soft click was heard from behind you followed by a pressure being applied to the back of your head.

just to think; you went out of your way to bring lunch to your oh-so-kind boyfriend and this is how he greets you?

you would say you're surprised but... this isn't the first time something like this has happened.

"do tell me, what's the foul mood for now?"

he didn't appreciate the snarky comment as a the gun pushed against your head even more.

"my [name], you seemed to enjoy yourself outside with that man. would i be correct to assume so?"

so this is what he's mad about.

you exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "if you must know, i was just making conversation. you know, something normal people do?"

the gun pressed harder against your skull in response, the warning clear. anaxa hated being mocked.

"careful," he murmured, voice quieter now, more dangerous. "i'm already being generous by allowing you to explain yourself. do not test my patience."

you tilted your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. his expression was unreadable, but his grip on the gun was steady—too steady.

"allowing me to explain myself?" you echoed, amusement creeping into your tone. "and here i thought my oh-so-loving boyfriend would trust me a little more by now."

anaxa exhaled sharply through his nose, but he said nothing. the silence stretched between you for a few moments before the pressure at the back of your head finally disappeared.

anaxa let out a low hum, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp—jealousy, possessiveness, something only he could wield so effortlessly. "you know how i feel about you entertaining the company of other men," he said, tilting his head slightly. "and yet, there you were, laughing as if you had no care in the world."

you sigh, "i promise you it was a very brief interaction. i even told him i was visiting you for lunch."

anaxa looked away in faux annoyance as he gently took the lunch from your hands.

"thank you, [name]." anaxa was genuine in his thanks, he understood how troublesome it could be to reach him in the grove of epiphany.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "i'd say 'you're welcome,' but i'm not sure you deserve it after that stunt."

he sighed dramatically, setting the lunch down on his desk before taking a seat. his movements were as measured as ever, graceful even in something as simple as this. "you wound me, truly," he drawled, undoing the buttons of his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. "but i suppose my cruelty knows no bounds, does it? threatening my beloved over something as insignificant as a passing interaction."

"so you admit it was ridiculous?" you quirked a brow, leaning against the edge of his desk.

anaxa leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you with a gaze so heavy it felt like an unseen weight pressing against you. "i admit nothing," he corrected, voice as smooth as ever. "but even the most brilliant minds are prone to… lapses in judgment."

you let out a small scoff, shaking your head. "right. 'lapses in judgment.' is that what we're calling your absurd jealousy now?"

he exhaled through his nose, as if considering your words, before finally opening the meal you had brought him. "call it whatever you like, my dear," he said idly, plucking a piece of food with deliberate ease. "but tell me, if i were to flirt so freely with another, would you be so composed?"

your mouth opened, but the words died on your tongue. anaxa watched your hesitation with something akin to satisfaction, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.

"i thought as much," he said smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate bite of his food. "jealousy, my dear, is a universal affliction. i am simply more… expressive about mine."

you huffed, looking away, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "you're insufferable and lucky i have the patience for you," you muttered.

he let out a soft chuckle, low and indulgent. "patience," he mused, reaching out to brush a gloved finger against your cheek, slow and deliberate. "such a rare and commendable virtue. though i must wonder..."

his touch trailed lower, tracing the curve of your jaw before finally resting under your chin. with the lightest pressure, he tilted your face ever so slightly upward, forcing you to hold his gaze.

"how much longer will that patience last, i wonder?"

you swallowed, refusing to look away. "depends," you said, barely above a breath. "how many more times do you plan on pulling a gun on me?"

anaxa’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, but his eyes flickered with something softer—something dangerously close to fondness.

"ah," he sighed dramatically, finally releasing you and leaning back into his chair. "a fair question. but, my dear, you wound me. surely you know by now that i only threaten the things i cannot bear to lose?"

you stared at him, feeling both shocked and flustered.

you huffed, shaking your head as you finally relented, letting the conversation settle into something resembling peace. and despite everything—despite his absurd possessiveness, his impossible nature, his maddeningly smug demeanor—you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

because somehow, against all logic, against every ounce of reason—anaxa was yours. and that was something even he, with all his sharp words and sharper wit, could never deny.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

mydei

mydei always found himself in petty competitions with phainon. whether it was who could pick the most apples to who could slay the most enemies, phainon always knew how to push his buttons.

though he might’ve pushed them a little too far..

“afraid you’ll lose? i would’ve never guessed that the great mydeimos was scared of talking to a girl. or are you scared [name] will end up liking me more?”

“deliverer,” mydei said with a scary amount of joy in his voice, “tell me, do you enjoy being humiliated by a kremnoan heir?”

“so is it a deal?”

“if that’s what you wish to call it, we’ll start now. try not to make an utter fool out of yourself. you won't even be able to touch them."

there was absolutely no way mydei was going to even let phainon breathe the same air as you.

phainon grinned, entirely unfazed by mydei’s sharp tone. “oh? possessive already? my, my, what will [name] think of this? surely they've noticed your crush on them by now.”

mydei exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “they will think nothing of it because you will not get the opportunity to so much as look at them.”

phainon laughed, tilting his head with an almost lazy confidence. “bold words. i wonder if you’ll still be saying that once they’re hanging off my arm instead.”

the barely restrained fury in mydei’s eyes was almost comical. “you delude yourself.”

“and you’re stalling.” phainon shrugged, already turning on his heel. “come now, mydeimos. unless, of course, you are afraid?”

mydei scoffed, stepping forward with an air of unwavering confidence. “i fear nothing—least of all a fool with an overinflated ego.”

the competition had begun.

mydei was the first to find you. he's always remembered the places you often frequented, the bathhouse being common among them.

mydei found you tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the bathhouse, steam curling through the air in delicate wisps. he approached silently, his footsteps barely making a sound against the stone floor.

he had always been observant—perhaps more than you'd realized. no matter how much time passed, he never forgot the places you sought comfort in.

"i thought i'd find you here," he murmured, his voice low and steady, cutting through the gentle trickle of water. "it's peaceful here," you said softly, returning your gaze to the water, watching a rubber duck float by.

after a long moment, you glanced at him, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

"you always find me."

mydei's crimson eyes softened, a rare hint of fondness breaking through his composed exterior.

"of course," he said quietly. "you're worth finding."

mydei had a huge advantage over phainon; everything that came out of his mouth was genuine.

you felt your body heat amplifying from his intense gaze, the steam from the bath worsening your situation.

the air between you two felt thick with unspoken words, the steam in the room only adding to the intensity. mydei’s crimson eyes were locked onto you with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read something deeper than just your expressions.

“you know, you really don’t make this easy,” you muttered, trying to divert your thoughts, the heat rising in your chest feeling like it might burst through your skin.

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving yours. "make what easy?"

you shifted uncomfortably, the faintest of blush creeping onto your cheeks. “this... this tension.”

mydei tilted his head slightly, the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. “tension?” he repeated, his voice smooth and calculated. “i’m simply speaking the truth.”

you shot him a glance, his words echoing in your mind. you’re worth finding.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard him say such things before, but this time, it felt different. There was no teasing, no veiled sarcasm—just the raw sincerity that mydei rarely offered.

“you never do anything half-heartedly, do you?” you said, a small sigh escaping your lips.

mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence looming like a silent promise. His gaze softened as he spoke, but there was still a quiet intensity behind it.

"only when it’s worth it," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but it still hit you like a wave.

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

he moment hung between you two, the weight of his words settling deep within you. mydei’s presence was suffocating in the best way—an intensity that seemed to radiate from him, the kind that made it impossible to think of anything else but him.

you opened your mouth, but the words stuck. something about his steady gaze and the closeness between you left you speechless, your heart thudding in your chest.

“mydei…” you whispered, almost as if testing the air, "would you like to join me in the bath? i'm sue it'll help relieve any sores you might have?"

mydei's gaze flickered to you, and for a brief moment, the quiet intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by a curious, almost amused glint. he took a step closer, the space between you two shrinking even more.

“you offer me company in the bath?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of surprise. “how… bold.”

you could hear the teasing undertone in his words, but it wasn’t as biting as usual. there was something more… tender in the way he spoke, something that made your heart flutter despite the calmness of the moment.

“i only thought it might help you relax,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though your pulse quickened slightly under his steady gaze. “and you’re always so tense. even the crown prince needs to rest now and then.”

mydei let out a quiet chuckle at that, the sound warm and soft, like the fleeting warmth of the bath. "i’m afraid i’ve never had much time for relaxation," he murmured, his tone shifting again, darker, but with an edge of something more vulnerable. "but perhaps you’re right. it’s been... a long time since i allowed myself the luxury."

there was a pause, and you could see the weight of his words settle over him, like he’d just made a decision. his eyes softened, and he took another step closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gently took your hand.

"then, i’ll join you. for once, perhaps i could allow myself this."

as mydei settled comfortably next to you in the bath, he couldn't help but wonder where phainon had been all this time.

and there was a small voice in the back of his head, saying 'if phainon found you first, would you have invited him into the bath with you?'

he glanced sideways at you, his gaze unreadable for a brief moment as he tried to suppress the discomfort he felt at the idea.

as he took in your relaxed face, mydei realized how important such moments were to the two of you. this was just the start of many more scenarios he would spend with you.

if you enjoyed please consider following/liking/reblogging :)

i just love the idea of unhinged anaxa

[shuenkio]

Lover Demon — 제이크

Paring: Jake!Demon X M!reader

Synopsis: Summon the wrong type of demon consequences with something you never thought would ever happen.

Genre: Smut without plot. Cw: curse, smau.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

Witchcraft is a quiet, curious thing—something that seems to catch only your eye. In a world so full of technology and science, there’s little space left for whispered stories, magic, or the old myths that once felt so real. Those tales have grown faint over time, gently brushed aside by facts and reason, leaving behind a world that’s slowly forgotten how to dream.

Yet you can’t help but gather books on witchcraft—magic, power, rituals, spells, summoning—anything that catches your curiosity, even if most of them are likely just clever tricks for profit. But that doesn’t really matter. It’s enough to quiet your mind, to feel that familiar comfort in studying, in learning about the things that draw you in, no matter how unreal they might seem to others.

The sun sank below the horizon, leaving the sky to rest as a radiant full moon took its place, flooding the earth with silver light. It was the perfect night—the kind you’d been waiting for. Months of study led to this moment, the chance to perform a ritual, to summon a demon that haunted your thoughts. Wishes you’d longed for danced on the edge of possibility. Whether the books were lies or truth didn’t matter. It was worth the risk.

Behind your grandparents’ backyard, surrounded by trees that whispered in the night breeze, lay the perfect place for this ritual. Hidden from prying eyes and safe from interruption, it was the ideal spot to summon the demon that had lingered in your thoughts. Under the full moon’s watchful gaze, the air felt heavy with possibility.

“Finally, I’ve been SUMMONED—” the demon stretched, his body cracking with a sound that echoed through the small, broken-down house. He sighed, clearly relieved to be back in the human world. His glowing eyes scanned the room before landing on you. He blinked, his expression shifting from smug to surprised. “Wait... you’re a guy?” he asked, pointing at you with one sharp claw.

You stood there, clutching the book to your chest, heart pounding as you stared at the towering figure. His horns nearly brushed the ceiling, and his presence filled the room with an aura that made it hard to breathe. You swallowed hard but forced yourself to stand tall. Clearing your throat, you tried to keep your voice steady. “What’s wrong with being a boy?” You scoffed, turning your nose up just a little. “You know damn well you can’t do anything to me since I’m the one who summoned you.” You tried to sound confident, hoping he couldn’t see how your hands were trembling just a bit.

The demon looked at you for a long moment before rolling his eyes. “Ugh, fine. So what do you want? Must be something big if you went through all that trouble.” He crossed his arms, his muscles flexing under his dark skin. “Just so you know, my name’s Jake, and I’m the Demon of Love.” He paused, his face twisting into a scowl. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I know it doesn’t sound all that terrifying, but it’s not what you think. I’m no damn cupid.”

You stared at him, your mind blanking for a moment. Demon of... Love? Your stomach sank as the realization hit you. You’d summoned the wrong demon.

“Uh... hey, so... I think I made a mistake summoning you,” you started, your voice wavering as you tried to keep your composure. “I was... actually looking for a wish demon, not... um... a love demon.” You could feel your face heating up with embarrassment. “So... can you, like... go back by yourself? Or do I have to, uh, do another ritual or something?”

Jake’s glowing red eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable as he stared at you. For a moment, you were convinced he was either furious or just incredibly disappointed, but then he let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Of course. Should’ve known. A rookie,” he muttered, his voice echoing with that eerie double-tone that made your skin crawl.

He crossed his arms, his massive form leaning against the crumbling wall. “You humans never read the fine print, do you?” His eyes roamed over you, lingering just long enough to make you uncomfortable. “Alright, since you’re... kind of handsome and clearly clueless, I’ll tell you the truth. There’s only one way to send me back.”

You waited, holding your breath.

“Mating,” Jake said lazily, as if he were discussing the weather. “Since you’re my summoner, we’d have to... you know, perform a ritual of love. It’s my rule.”

Your jaw dropped, and for a moment, you forgot how to speak. “W-What?” you finally managed, voice cracking in disbelief. “You’re kidding... right?”

Jake just smirked, his sharp teeth gleaming. “Hey, don’t blame me. You summoned the Demon of Love. What did you expect?”

////

Right on the spot, your body was naked where your clothes had been torn into pieces by the love demon. The moment you couldn't even take time to react, that was when it changes to the state that you're in right now, completely butt out and length kiss the cold air. However that's just the beginning, The love demon— shape shift himself into the human version of his, in order to intimate the rule he just spit, for a better saying was to FUCK Jake to send him back.

A flash red light flickering, before Jake stands proud in front of you with his exposed flesh. His build masculine body makes you question whether this is a reward or a punishment? Not to mention in detail was that— even though Jake was a demon, he understood the human need... A bit all too well for how lustful they are in bed, and he isn't any better from humans, Jake likes it more than they ever would.

The 12 inches cock hanging between his legs, the balls are covered in a heavy skin stretching like a cauliflower. Jake's tense thighs only to fuel your desire to just kneel right there before him and begging for his to fuck your brain out of you.

Yet you made no move. In a blink of an eyes you find yourself on the red comfortable mistress to the unknown, the dark absorbed any surrounded which all you see is blank plain ancient walls around.

Jake wastes no time before Lough into your smaller frame which caused you to yelp in a surprise manner. As your back hits the cold bed before his hip enters your closet personal space. Your groin of course. The demon itself tends to know a lot of people's daily life and stuff, nevertheless he doesn't know how to kiss, to intimate more sexual love making, to bond more yet all he knows was to mate and fuck, that's all he's good at.

"If you dare to PUSH me off right now darling, I'll be forever stuck here with you for a century, and boy—I do not care if you have a manhood to make children, i fuck whoever summon ME!" Cool sweat dripping down on your forehead, with a shriek were heard inside the chamber once Jake's enormous largely cock entered the tightness of yours.

For once in his whole life— Jake could finally find pleasure for the first time in humans, resulting in him throwing his head back, goosebumps running down in his vein as his both reds glow eyes disappear into white. The pleasure of his cock burying the inside of your hole alone already turning Jake into a wild animal.

"Holy Demon— mhmm why is it SAUR GOOD I fucking love it, need to BREED with my fucking FERTILIZER SEED ARG" The demon shriek to the undeniable lust he felt in this moment, his growling alluring through your ear drum.

"Unghh... fuck! So goddamn tight...!"

Your eyes turn white of the intense pleasure, my ass hole is too taunt better than a vice, make him fold into two even though he was pounding me just like demon possessed. It was too much for us yet it was too overstimulated for Jake, to hold on to the point he needed something to hold on.

The taller frame grunts and pants harshly, sweat beading on his brow as he struggles to maintain his relentless pace, your incredibly tight hole clenching and fluttering around his pistoning cock like a silken vise. "Shit... M/n... your fucking ass... it's too goddamn tight!"

He snarls through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

His hips slap against your ass with brutal force, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room along with his animalistic grunts and groans. The couch creaks and shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, threatening to topple over.

Jake leans forward, his chest pressing against your back as he tries to find some semblance of stability. His hot, ragged breaths fall against your neck and ear, his lips latching onto your skin to bite and suck. He's quickly losing himself in the tight, wet heat engulfing his cock, his movements becoming more erratic and desperate.

Suddenly, he hilts inside you, grinding his pelvis flush against your ass, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your taint. He stays there for a moment, just savoring the feeling of being completely sheathed in your clenching channel before he starts rolling his hips, stirring his thick cock around inside you.

His hand snakes around your body, grasping your own weeping erection, squeezing and stroking it in time with his relentless thrusts. "Unghh... fuck... I can feel every throb, every twitch of this greedy little cunt... like it's sucking me in fucking deeper...!" Whimpers sniff painted his face, he's absolutely destroying himself.

He changes the angle of his thrusts slightly, aiming straight for that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you. With each snap of his hips, he grinds against that spot, determined to make you fall apart on his cock.

The pressure builds rapidly in his heavy, churning balls as he chases his pleasure, his strokes becoming shorter and sharper, his grip on your hips tightening. He's getting close... too fucking close. But he won't stop, not until he's pumped every last drop of his hot, thick seed deep into your guts.

His hips slap against your ass with brutal force, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room along with his animalistic grunts and groans. The bed creaks and shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, threatening to topple over.

Jake collapses heavily against your back, his entire body shaking and twitching with the force of his intense orgasm. A guttural, almost feral roar tears from his throat as he empties his aching, overstimulated balls deep inside you, painting your inner walls white with thick ropes of his scalding cum.

His cock jerks and pulses wildly as it pumps what feels like an endless stream of jizz into your spasming hole, the sheer volume of it causing some to leak out around his shaft and drip down onto the couch. He grinds against you, making sure to push his load in as deep as it can go, marking your insides with his essence.

But the overwhelming sensations and the intense pleasure pushing him over the edge also have an unintended consequence. As he's lost in the throes of his release, feeling your body clench and milk his spurting cock, he loses control of another bodily function. A warm, unfamiliar sensation rushes through his shaft, and suddenly, he feels a strong, forceful stream of piss erupting from his cock, mixing with the thick cum already flooding your ass.

Panic rises in his chest as he realizes what's happening, but he's too far gone, too consumed by the all-encompassing pleasure radiating from his core. He can only let out choked, strangled groans as he continues to empty his overstimulated body into yours, the heat of his piss momentarily startling you, even as it washes away the excess cum.

After what feels like an eternity, his release finally starts to taper off, leaving him slumped against your back, both of you coated in sweat and the remnants of his spending. His softening cock, still buried deep inside your cream-filled hole, gives a few last weak pulses, a few last drops of piss and cum dribbling lazily into you.

The man remains in place, his entire body heavy and sated, his breathing slowly returning to a somewhat normal pace after the intense workout. He nuzzles into your neck, pressing soft kisses to your sweat-slicked skin, a rare moment of gentle intimacy. He's utterly spent, but a part of him is still marveling at the incredible tightness of your body, the way it took everything he had to give and then some.

"cum... It's coming...."

Jake could feels the hot spurts of your release splattering against his fingers and your stomach, mixed with the sweat and other fluids already covering both of your bodies. A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his face, his chest rumbling with a deep, approving groan. "Heh... that's it, M/n... come for me just like the needy little slut you are. I can feel you fucking soaking my hand with it...— I guess I won't fucking leave this human world you're now forever mine— My you"

The slave mark appears on your lower tummy.

A/n: Some part might be confused so I'll left into your imagination. This was inspired by bff of mine— from my famous friend @angelsfat3

Funtalk: Dare to get rail by demon Jake?

[writingwithgeoffrey]

“What the fuck is a ‘temporal paradox’?” You remember asking that question to your friend at a garage sale years ago. Now, you had nothing. Nothing, in a time where you didn’t even exist. You had no parents, no way to get back home. You had lost your friend somewhere in the jump, and now you were all alone.

That didn’t curb your desire to return to your time. It didn’t hold back your rage, even as you were held in an orphanage until you were eighteen You scoffed at the absurdity of it all. An orphan in my own time and this one, you thought to yourself.

 In all honesty, you were prepared to spend the rest of your life full of hatred, working out a way to bring your friend back. Or, at least, get revenge on the asshole that sold you that “temporal paradox.”

One day, however, many years after you’d been ripped away from your own time, you found your attention captured by a man across the street. He wasn’t as clean as many of the other men in town. A drifter, from the looks of it, wearing ratty clothing but holding a smile on his face.

Something about him was captivating, and before you knew it, you had struck up a conversation. He didn’t talk at all about his past, and what he did talk about seemed full of confusing twists and turns. That didn’t dampen the love you felt for him, but it did melt away whatever anger and frustration you may have felt about your situation.

When you found out you were pregnant, the drifter vanished from your life. He made the usual claim of stepping out for work, only to never return. You resented the man that had done this to you, but knew that whatever love you felt for him was still some kind of real.

The baby was born perfectly healthy. She was all right in every regard. Breathing, crying, sleeping normally.

You, however, were not all right. The delivery had taken its toll on your body, and in the process of saving your life, the doctors made a discovery you’d been fighting to keep hidden your entire life. You were intersex, born with both sets of sex organs. They had never caused you any trouble up until this point, but now the doctors were telling you there was only one way to survive: they had to remove the damaged parts and stitch you up with whatever remained, hoping you’d live a normal life. As a man.

Whatever, you thought. As long as I live to raise my daughter.

Then the news rolled in. Although first presentation had been nominal, closer inspection had revealed that your daughter was also intersex. The doctors said they would be willing to try corrective surgery, but that your daughter’s chances of survival were low. You decided against it. After all, you had managed to live with it, and you could help her through it.

You were happy for the first time since the drifter had left. You were at peace. You had your daughter.

Until you didn’t even have her. One of the nurses shook you awake in the early hours of the morning, frantically telling you that your daughter was missing from the nursery. You tried to rise and chase after whoever had taken her, wherever they may have been, but you were too weak to take even a few steps.

Your life took a downward turn. You had lost everything, and your new status as a man—even if medically necessary—had labeled you as an outcast. You fell heavily into alcohol, which took up whatever funds remained available to you. You became a drifter, staggering from bar to bar, caring not if the clothes you wore become ratty and full of holes.

It was in year seven of your drunkenness that you stumbled into a bar beneath an overpass. It was dim and grungy, with a small neon sign that read “Pops’ Place.” There wasn’t anyone there besides the bartender, but that was good enough for you.

You staggered over to the bar, sat yourself down, and with a drink or two extra in your system, spilled your life story. The bartender—no doubt Pops—seemed to listen with only kindness in his heart, nodding along and offering comforting nothings here and there.

However, when you finished your spiel, the bartender said something peculiar, something about avenging the strange drifter that had left you pregnant and sent you on your downward spiral.

You perked up. Of course, you would leap at the opportunity. The condition, however, was that you join the Time Travelers Corps. You didn’t know what it was, and in your drunken state couldn’t remember the temporal paradox that had led you down this path long before the drifter had. You agreed without a second thought.

With a slight smile, the bartender led you to a time machine in his backroom. Your first stop was seven years back, according to the bartender. The year that the drifter had taken everything from you.

You shuffled out onto the street, finding almost nothing had changed, and you were about to question Pops, only to find the bar had vanished in its entirety.

Fed up by people ruining your life—or perhaps your drunkenness ruining your life, not that you would admit it—you started down the street. If this truly was seven years prior, you were ready to kick some drifter ass.

At least, that was you thought. She changed your mind. She was beautiful, young, full of such hope. Yet, at the same time, you could see a fury burning within her eyes. She had a mission, much like you.

When the two of you locked eyes across the street, you saw her hatred soften up, and you found your heart beginning to pound at the sight of a kindred soul.

One thing led to another, and your life took a turn for the better. You maintained your drifter ways, taking her along for the ride, but you made a concerted effort to get over your alcoholism.

When the news arrives about your lover’s pregnancy, you’re ecstatic. However, Pops returns then and tells you that you must leave. You try to push back, but he says that it’s time to fulfill your end of the promise. Up until that point, you had forgotten, and although you hadn’t yet gotten revenge on the drifter, you had found love.

You agreed, as much as it hurt you to leave behind your lover. Pops dropped you off almost twenty years after you vanished from your lover’s bedside. There, the Time Travelers Corps was beginning to grow, a burgeoning group of individuals striving to keep the timeline secure in both past and future.

You made a name for yourself in the Corps. Everyone respected you, and as you climbed through the ranks, you found a reverence that you hadn’t experienced once in your life.

You had three missions left. That was what you were told. The first was to take up the position of a lowly bartender, serving to recruit people to the Corps’ cause. You though it was odd but said nothing as they gave you the disguise and the necessary training.

Then, you were sent back in time. Your given name was Pops, which you considered odd, but you thought nothing else of it as you took up your place behind the bar.

Your first recruit, the only man to step foot in your “bar” since its opening day, was a drifter dressed in ratty, worn clothing. He shuffled over to the bar, plopped himself down, got a few drinks in him, and spilled his life story.

After listening, you gave him the information he needed to hear. You told him he could get revenge on whoever had wronged him, on one condition: that he join you in the Time Travelers Corps.

He agreed, and you sent him on his way. That was when you were given your next mission. Go back in time and take a lonely newborn from the nursery of a hospital, and drop her off in the future. You thought nothing of it as you scooped her up from her crib, and in a matter of moments, you had left her on the doorstep of an orphanage.

Only your final mission awaited. Go forward in time, carry with you a new state-of-the-art pocket-sized time machine, and make sure a young girl and her friend received it, disguised as an old man running an estate sale before he moved into assisted living.

You watched with a smile on your face as the target took the bait, picking up a small, translucent cube with a sticker on it that read, “temporal paradox.” Your smile widened into a grin as you heard what the girl asked her friend.

“What the fuck is a ‘temporal paradox’?”

You point at the ‘for sale’ sign. “What the fuck is a ‘temporal paradox’?” you ask. “I dunno,” replies your friend. “But it’s only 20 bucks. Let’s buy one.”

[gawkgokgok]

Silence of the lambs

Aemond Targaryen x Daemons daughter!reader

summary: You and Aemond married for the peace of the realm even though you disliked each other. Peace is the last thing you would find in your chambers...

warnings: MDNI, subtle violence, reluctant kissing, choking, attempted rape, a bit of a praise, tiddies!, all this but its suppose to be hurt/comfort😭😭 almost 2.3k

a/n: this is the first and probably the last thing I'll ever write. just had some fun and decided to share it here.🩵 English ain't my shit, sorry for the mistakes. hope this won't be a waste of your time divider credit @cafekitsune (hope that's okay) :P

Cold.

Cold and distant.

Two moons passed since your wedding day. Even though you shared chambers you limped to get used to each other. Stiff. Not present. If you talked it would be the smallest, briefest conversations only about necessary. Usually it was silence. That’s all you knew. And perhaps it was for the best...

Silence in the morns. Silence in the day. Silence in the nights. Most familiar whisper of your rooms was crunchy fire. The only thing that kept this place from turning into a dungeon.

Dungeon with chains lost on the eyes.

You returned tired to your shared coffins. Spending your evening with pregnant Helaena and her twins. Playing until little offsprings got tired and ready for their cribs. You seeked change. Anything, just to get the obese hours pass quicker.

Hands of wind grabbed your ankles and planted shivers across your skin. Balcony door was wide open. He stood there. Face in his palms. Or so you thought. His back was covering any chance of view. You pursed your lips. Should you worry? Should you talk to him? Would it make things worse?

The slouching of his shoulders made you sigh and slowly approach. You ideated running your palm across his broad form to soothe him. But you feared of overstepping.

"Did something happen?" It was quiet. Not particularly soft, but quiet.

Your eye caught his arms tensing up. You hated that your presence and voice made him like this. You didn’t care at first, but it was becoming frustrating.

He didn't look at you. He was quiet for a long moment before he put you back in your place. "...nothing happened."

You stared at his nape, covered by waves of moonshine. He was being difficult, and you just wanted to go to sleep and close the damn doors. Curling your tongue in your mouth, you gathered strength to stay calm.

"Are you alright?"

You felt his anger grow. The last thing he wanted was your concern and your worry. "I’m fine." He cut the air with his teeth.

Your heart stilled at his harsh tone. Overstepping. You nodded even though he couldn’t see it and warily stepped back into your chambers. You didn’t wish to argue. Deep down you preferred silence over arguments. If he doesn’t wish to speak what’s troubling him, who are you to press matters?

You left him to his thoughts. Retreating with tail between your legs as you started getting yourself ready for the bed.

You were used to him hiding his feelings away but whenever you would show concern (as rare as it was) or try to ask about anything, the storm would just take over his mind. He had no interest to trust you and you respected that. Not like you shared many of your thoughts to him either. To anyone, really. Being the daughter of the man he hated, you understood... to certain extents.

You heard the balcony door close just as you moved the covers under which you planned to hide and let your body and mind rest. He strode over to you, his hand grasping around your upper arm as he turned you around to face him. You gasped in shock and before you could wince from his iron grip, your mouth was muffled by his. Pushing your lips apart with his restless tongue, forcing cold shivers down your spine as he tried to drown you in his control.

You didn’t know what scared you more, his assault or his sudden behavior. You couldn’t tear your arm away. You couldn’t arch your head away. You couldn’t even welcome air in your system. Liquid in your veins was gaining adrenalin. You were almost trembling from fear. You started expecting the worst...

He scoffed at your whines of protest and pushed you on your back, slamming you on the soft mattress. You winced slightly when you hit the bed. Short-term pain quickly overshadowed by terror. His body savaged over yours in an instant.

"Ae- Aemond, what are you- what’s gotten into you!?"

He was deaf as he started pulling your night shift up. And you looked up at him with wide and terrified eyes, unable to fight back his strength. Whatever was dancing in his sharp violet one... it smelled rotten.

"What's gotten into me?" His voice was strained as he fought to keep your limbs in place. A low, mocking laugh rang as he focused his gaze on your heaving chest. "Lets find out."

Your eyelids strained even more. Throat drying up. Breath hitching out of control along with your shaking body.

The only time you consummated was on your wedding night. It wasn’t pleasant. It didn’t hurt, but you weren’t enjoying it. And you knew he didn’t either. This was completely out of the blue and his rage was blood-freezing.

You were scared, yes, but you were more scared of the idea what would happen if you started actually resisting... He never hit you, but the tales of his temper rolled around the corridors like plague.

Dark pleasure filled his stare. He could see the hesitation in you, the tremble and fear. But he didn't care. He knew he had you right where he wanted. His bruising touch on your skin felt ten times heightened now that you fell completely out of control. Getting hunted down...

"Good. That's good..."

Aemond praised with a twisted smile. His hand moved from your wrists to your neck, his large hand wrapping around you and holding you down. You shivered when his palm had more control over your breathing than you. His other hand passed along your body, feeling every curve and angle of your frame. Your breath couldn’t even hitch every time his fingers grazed over your plush stomach and waist. Your fists bagged the sheets firmly and you shut your eyes as you let him do what he wanted.

He was lost in his own desire, in his own lust. Ignoring your discomfort. He just needed to satisfy his needs. He needed to let out his frustration somehow. Or on someone... He continued roaming his hands across your body, touching you like you were a toy.

"You're so beautiful..."

Your eyes shot opened as you heard his mumbles. Seeing how he was fixated on your body, you took the chance before the damage could be done. Marital rape was not on your list tonight. You bit your tongue and dared to touch him, cupping his cheek. "...Can-... can you at least tell me what's wrong?...Please."

His jaw clenched. Your touch was so soft, so gentle and so different from the grip he had on you. It took him by surprise. His eyes locked with yours. He was quiet for a moment, the darkness in his gaze fading for a quickly-lost moment.

"It's nothing. There's nothing wrong." He muttered through gritted teeth, moving his head to the side to avoid your warm hand. His brows twitched into a frown and his hands hooked in your smallclothes.

Your fingers curled into a fist before you let your hand drop. You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know how to calm him. How to reason him. How to talk to him.... You were his wife and you had no clue how to handle him. Bitterness stashed your mouth. You sighed heavily. He already had your mound bare.

"..this won’t solve whatever’s bothering you." You tried to sound calm. Tried to appear like you weren’t fighting for the right over your body right now.

He huffed, becoming more and more irritated with you. Pushing your nightgown over your chest. His voice was low and ragged as he saw how cool air affected your nipples.

"It would. It can. At least for a moment.."

"Please, let me help you.." ..somehow, you hoped. Carding your hand through his silver locks, pulling the strands back so they weren’t falling over your faces as he loomed over you.

"....I’ll listen. I promise." And you meant it. You’d do anything to avoid this situation. If it meant behaving like a proper loving wife who listens and cares, you would do it. Despite the resentment you hold for each other.

Your gazes locked as he listened to your pointless rambles. There was a flicker of hesitation, but he flashed it away with a mutter as he cupped your breasts. "It's nothing. I just had a bad day."

"Then let me hear about your day."

You covered his big hands with yours and you felt him twitch. Surprise washed over his face as he looked back up your eyes once again. You noticed his observing eye roam over your features and you softened your whole demeanor. You meant it. You were fucking tired of this. The silence. The distance. The feeling of constant unwelcomeness. You just wanted to enter your chambers ONCE and be relaxed in his presence...

Looking at you, seeking sincerity and curiosity in your eyes, he closed his own and sighed. "It was tiresome, lots of meeting, training, planning for the future... everything that’s expected of me."

You nodded slowly, listening to every word that rolled off his tongue. And you noticed it. A silver of honesty, perhaps even trust. Your nails skied up his arm, gently scratching his nape. You wanted to make him as calm as possible. "...you’re tired..?"

Aemond let out a low purr, his eye fluttering shut. "Hm."

You pulled his shoulders so he would lay down on you, wrapping arms around his neck. You felt tension all over his body, but you didn’t care. If he thinks he can do whatever he wanted with you, so could you with him. You tucked his head under your chin.

You were trying to value his emotions. As hard as it was... you understood what he meant. You didn’t know every detail of his training nor his council meetings, but you knew what it meant to be drained. Exhausted. And that was enough to make you empathic.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breathing ragged and heavy. You held him tighter, your arms getting a rush of protectiveness. Letting him find shelter in your embrace. Solace in your arms. Peace in your scent and warmth. You wanted to make him feel heard and seen. He held onto you, his arms wrapping around your waist as if he was holding onto for dear life. You felt it. You sensed the shift. He was allowing you to see him. To see his vulnerability. To dive below the surface of his thick skin.

"It's just too much sometimes. I don't know if I can do it anymore." You felt his lips brush along your skin as he mumbled quietly.

"I know. I know it is, but draining yourself to the last drop isn’t doing you any good. And satisfying everyone’s expectations is impossible."

You tried to comfort him. And seeing this softer side of him. This... lost, broken boy. It made you desire gentleness towards him.

"...I know you don’t like being told what to do, but I’m advising you... let that dumb old cunt go. Otto is not worth your time or energy. He never was. Ungrateful people don’t deserve the effort you’re putting up, Aemond."

From your FAR point of view you knew enough. You knew why Aemond was the way he was. Even though you struggled to understand his dark motives most of the time, you understood where he was coming from. And being a child loved only under conditions does that to a person. You secretly admired that he’s still standing and isn’t reaching for cups like Aegon.

"I know. It’s hard to see it and let go, especially when that someone is your family..."

You sighed, plucking the right words...

"...but I’m your family now."

Even though your marriage has been distant and cold, you still had time to change that... right?

His silence made you chew your lips nervously. You really had no idea what you were doing nor saying... He shifted slightly to look at you, his eye overflowing with emotions. He didn't say anything, just looked at you, searching your face for something.

"I know you didn’t choose me. I know I didn’t choose you. I know we agreed only for the greater good, but... I’m tired sometimes as well. I wish we didn’t resent each other."

You whispered honestly while taking in his pained expression. It broke your heart knowing even you, his wife, struggled to give him the care and affection.

He took a deep breath and gently touched your cheek, his fingertips lightly caressing your skin. "I'm sorry for the way I've been... towards you." He whispered and pulled the nightgown down, covering your body.

You leaned into his touch. Wanting him to know that he’s welcome to you from now on. Your smiled even though you were terrified when he jumped you. "...it’s our first time being married, right?"

Aemonds eye wrinkled, a small, barely-there smile tugged the corners of his lips.

It was nice to see him smile, even if the situation was far from funny, but he was calm. And that’s all that mattered to you.

Warm.

Warm and close.

Silence. That’s all you knew. And yet... it felt good. It felt right.

You helped him with the buttons of his leather doublet. Changing him in his night clothes as you both exchanged soft looks and amused smiles. You hid under the sheets and cuddled until you let lambs bounce your minds away. You let him sleep in your chest.. cling to you.. seek your comfort. And you didn’t even wish to think about denying him. For the first time, you felt truly at peace in his presence. You will be the wife he needs.

[morganaawriterr]

Love’s the death of peace of mind; Jay

SYNOPSIS ➺ You always believed your obsession with Jay was somewhat harmless — the stolen glances, the job you took just to stay close, the nights spent following his every move. But when familiar faces start vanishing and strange coincidences pile up, a chilling truth begins to surface.

PAIRING ➺ Stalker fem!reader X not-so-inocent lawyer!Jay

GENRE ➺ Thriller; slow burn (?); stalker au; killer au; strangers to lovers (?);

WORDS ➺ 13k

WARNINGS ➺ Staker behavior; mentions of blood and death; cursing; obsessive behavior; sexual content (not fully smut); heavy tension; age gap (3 years);

AUTHOR'S NOTE ➺ This fic is so freaking cool, I am so excited to finally post it! This took me a whole week to write and prepare and its literally my fav ever!!! I hope you guys like it as well! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you so much! Masterlist

You never knew you were capable of becoming what you have.

But your eyes are, once again, focused on him as he sits down in his usual spot by the large window. He always sets down his backpack and takes out his computer after placing his order. He doesn’t put on his earphones until his drink is sitting on the table, just so he can hear you call his name. You barely know him; in fact, you only know his name because you had to write it on the cup. Yet your mind drowns in thoughts of him every time he comes to the café.

The ambient is calm and quiet, the only audible sounds coming from the Bluetooth speakers playing soft jazz. You force your eyes to shift to the dark day outside, where heavy gray clouds paint the sky dark even at three in the afternoon. You admire the bushes swaying in the wind by the entrance, noticing small flower petals drifting away.

Your gaze wanders to the big TV hanging on the wall, and your eyes widen at the news. A girl who’s been missing for months flashes across the screen, and as you carefully take in her face, your heart tightens with an unfamiliar fear, a deep, unsettling feeling that you can’t quite place.

Uncomfortable, you turn toward your annoyed coworker, who’s making the drinks all by herself. As you watch, you notice the store is out of the caramel topping your mystery man always asks for. You smile to yourself, grateful for the universe giving you a chance to talk to him. Your heart flutters at the thought of his voice—not too deep, but warm and attractive.

You slowly walk toward his table, and he notices you halfway there, turning his head to shamelessly watch you approach. Despite your hair being tied in a tidy ponytail, Jongseong can tell how long it is as it sways with each step. His eyes travel lower, and though you’re wearing the unflattering store uniform, he imagines the curves of your body beneath it. The uniform consists of a forest-green button-up shirt, black slacks, and a white apron tied around your waist.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jongseong. Unfortunately, we’re out of caramel topping. Would you like to replace it with something else, or would you prefer a refund?” You speak calmly, keeping your voice as professional as possible.

The man in front of you lifts his gaze to yours, his deep brown eyes holding your attention with an intensity that makes the air feel suddenly thick and hard to breathe. You feel your cheeks flush under his insistent stare, and after a few seconds of silence, he finally responds:

“You can replace it with whatever you think is best. Something tells me your choice will be better than anything I could come up with.” Jongseong’s voice is just as smooth and alluring as you remembered, and you can’t help the smile that grows on your lips.

“Sure thing, Mr. Jongseong.” You offer him a gentle smile and bow politely before turning back toward the counter.

Jay watches you walk away, his eyes following the confident sway of your hips. The apron tied snugly around your waist only emphasizes your figure, and he finds himself captivated. He’s never seen someone so beautiful working such an ordinary job, and now he has his eyes on you.

At the counter, you tell your coworker to add vanilla instead, your favorite flavor for both milk and coffee. As you lean on the counter, she notices the silly smile on your lips and rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed by how easily flustered you are. But she doesn’t know how Jongseong’s eyes wandered over your body or how that gaze left you feeling warm and tingly.

After all, she’s stuck with an unappealing man who’s older but somehow more childish than she is. She thinks you don’t know, but you’ve overheard their fights when he comes to pick her up, his voice always reeking of cigars and cheap cologne. The way he looks at you, like you’re a piece of meat, makes your skin crawl. But today, you’re feeling generous, thanks to the universe, so you let it slide without a word.

As soon as your coworker finishes his drink, you take the cup in your hand, your fingers tracing the letters of his name written on the fragile plastic. You love the way his name rolls off your tongue like a quiet spell.

“Order for Jongseong!” You call out, your voice clear and careful, your eyes fixed in his direction.

Just like a scene from a romantic movie, he rises slowly from his chair and walks toward you. His dark hair is styled back, exposing his forehead, and he’s wearing a sleek black Prada suit. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air as he approaches, and once again, his eyes lock onto yours, intense and unwavering.

“Here. I hope you like it!” You say eagerly, extending the cup toward him.

“I’m sure I will,” Jongseong replies with a small smile, his fingers grazing yours as he takes the cup from your hand.

And with that, he turns his back and returns to his spot, getting back to his computer just as quickly as he left. You find yourself glued to the way his long fingers move across the keyboard and wonder how they would feel on your skin, gripping your flesh, exploring you, teasing you. You imagine how easily they could reach that spot inside you that you can barely brush against.

Without noticing, your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth. Your coworker notices how still you’ve become and gives you a light push, making you stumble on your feet.

“You're staring. At least be sneaky,” she whispers by your side, a teasing smirk on her thin, dry lips.

“Thank you so much for the advice!” you respond with a fake smile before turning around and heading to the back of the café to take a deep breath.

The storage room carries an unpleasant smell of rot because the forgotten fruits in the wooden basket have started growing mold. You close your eyes and turn your head to the side, feeling a wave of annoyance. Reaching for the basket, you prepare to take it outside to the trash. Your coworker claimed she had thrown them out last week, which was the last time you worked with her, but clearly, she hadn’t.

As you step through the rusty back door, a harsh gust of wind hits your warm face, offering a refreshing relief. You walk unhurriedly toward the back of the building, where the recycling bins and trash cans are located, humming a soft tune to yourself. You open the trash bin and dump the rotten fruits inside, glad to finally get rid of the stench. Being so sensitive to smells, you notice the distinct scent of rain in the air and know it’s about to start pouring.

As you stand outside, watching the heavy clouds roll across the sky, you feel the first cold drops land on your hair. The raindrops are thick and heavy, soaking your uniform as you close your eyes and tilt your head up, savoring the cool comfort they bring. But after a few seconds, the sensation shifts. You no longer feel the rain hitting you, but instead, you sense the presence of someone standing very close.

You open your eyes slowly and are met with the sight of the tall, handsome man from the café, holding a large black umbrella. His eyes travel across your face, confusion flickering across his sharp features. He takes in your appearance, your dark lashes heavy with rain and your lips stained a deep, bloody red. There’s something about you that draws him in, something he can’t quite place.

“What are you doing out here in the rain?” Jongseong asks, his voice breaking the silence beneath the umbrella, contrasting with the relentless sound of the rain pounding against it.

You stay quiet for a few seconds, your eyes tracing the sharp angles of his jawline now that he’s so close. His lips look even more tempting up close, a perfect balance of pouty and full. You wonder why the universe keeps gifting you these small, perfect moments with him, but you’re grateful all the same.

“I needed to throw away some spoiled fruit,” you explain, his gaze burning into you as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face.

“Then shouldn’t you hurry inside instead of standing out here in the rain?”

There’s a teasing edge to his voice, but it also feels like gentle scolding. You try to come up with a reason for lingering besides the simple desire to feel the cool rain against your heated skin. After all, he’s the reason your body feels so warm, his presence and his intoxicating scent clouding your senses.

“I’m going,” you joke, your eyes locking with his one last time before you turn and run toward the back door. You feel his gaze on you the entire way until the heavy metal door closes behind you.

Jay smiles to himself at your adorable reaction, feeling more intrigued than ever. Standing there in the pouring rain, he tells himself he has to come back every day just to catch a glimpse of your pretty face—and maybe, just maybe, get to know you better.

Jongseong comes back the next day, hoping to admire you for a while before starting his work. The city's streets are bustling, and since the café is in the heart of the city, the walk there isn’t long. He smiles as the front of the café comes into view, the blooming bushes swaying gently with the wind.

To his surprise, when he steps inside the cozy place, he isn’t met with your familiar face. Instead, two different girls are working. They smile as soon as he walks in and greet him politely.

“Hello, what can I get for you today?” one of them asks, but Jay finds his mind elsewhere.

“Maybe an espresso to go, please,” he responds just as politely, a small smile on his lips.

“In what name?” she asks, her fingers gripping the black marker, waiting for his answer.

“Jongseong, please.”

She writes his name down and proceeds with the payment. Jay fights a battle inside his head, curious about where you are and whether you’re okay. Should he ask about you? Would that be weird? You’ve only spoken twice, aside from exchanging a few glances. But before his brain can stop him, his mouth moves on its own. As his hand wraps around the warm cup, he asks:

“Do you know if your coworker who worked yesterday is okay?” The words leave his mouth, and he immediately cringes. What a stupid question.

“Hmm, yesterday? Who worked yesterday?” the girl asks the other barista making the drinks.

“It was YN and Munhee, but I think they’re okay. Today’s their rest day,” the girl responds while shaking a cup. Her eyes flick briefly to Jay and then back to her friend.

“Maybe you’re curious about YN? Since Munhee has a boyfriend…” the girl teases with a smile. “YN works on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Don’t tell her I told you this, please!” she adds with a playful pout.

Jay can’t help but smile. “Thank you, and don���t worry. I won’t tell her anything!” he assures them with a last bow and a warm smile before leaving the café.

As he walks away, he reflects on how easy it was to get that information. Don’t they know it’s not safe to share their coworker’s schedule with strangers? Who knows what someone could do with that knowledge? Thankfully, Jongseong only wants to see you more often.

He still remembers the first few times he saw you. You were always smiling and polite, helping your coworkers and keeping an eye on the customers to make sure they were comfortable. The first time you made eye contact was when you noticed him putting on his jacket and turned the AC on, adjusting the temperature just enough to be comfortable.

Jay admired you from afar, his eyes drawn to the curve of your lips as you smiled at him, a quiet acknowledgment. That small, thoughtful act was what made him want to keep coming back, hoping for just a little more of your warmth. It’s nothing more than a quiet admiration, or so he tells himself.

Today is Saturday, and the coffee shop is busier than normal, and as you pace back and forth behind the counter, the sun shines beautifully outside. The light reflects inside the place and spreads a comfortable warmth, despite the chaotic environment.

This time, because your coworker is new, she is taking orders, and you are making the beverages. The drinks today seem to be oddly specific, with numerous variations and additions, causing you to take longer to prepare them. And to your luck, the new hire is also making mistakes when adding the extras, forcing you to remake multiple drinks.

You can feel the sweat forming on your forehead as time goes by and the customers' unsatisfied glares burn into your back. The stress makes your body feel warmer, and your hands start to tremble, exhaustion taking over. Today was also the day you opened the store, and now this rush hour is dangerously close to the time you clock out.

You didn’t even notice him, but he was there the whole time, sitting in his usual spot by the window, calmly sipping his coffee while occasionally glancing in your direction, hoping you would finally see him. But that never happens.

Jay lifts his head from his computer and tries to glance your way, and that’s when he notices something is wrong. His fingers slowly take his earphones off, and he is met with a loud male voice, shouting and making exaggerated hand movements toward you. You stand there with your hands behind your back, head facing down, listening to the man’s insults.

“This is an unacceptable thing to happen!” the man says louder, his eyes scanning the room to make sure everyone is watching. “If you’re that bad at making drinks in this stupid job, maybe do something else!” he jokes with a disgusting smirk, his eyes now traveling up and down your figure. “With a body like that, the OnlyFans site would be grateful to have—”

Before he can finish his sentence, Jongseong is right by his side, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Jay holds it tight, making sure the man can barely breathe. Jongseong’s body is shaking from the sudden adrenaline, but he wouldn’t just stand there and watch that son of a bitch make fun of you.

“If you can’t accept that mistakes happen, you better stop coming to coffee shops,” Jay says, mocking the man’s words.

“She spilled cheap coffee all over my expensive suit!” the man fires back, glaring at Jongseong.

“That doesn’t give you the right to harass her, asshole.” Your Savior’s gaze quickly flickers toward you, making sure you’re okay.

Jay finally releases the man’s collar, causing him to stumble back slightly. As if accepting his defeat, the man turns his back and walks out, leaving a heavy atmosphere behind. Your eyes are visibly watery, and Jay hates it more than he can confess. As his gaze lingers on you, the customers slowly return to their own bubbles.

“Are you okay?” he asks in a low voice, his eyes carefully searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Yeah, thank you,” you respond with a shaky voice, your cheeks turning pink. “I leave in thirty minutes… so I can handle it.” Your eyes hesitantly meet his, hoping he understands the message behind your words.

“Good,” Jongseong responds simply, offering you a final smile before turning around and walking back to his usual spot.

Those thirty minutes feel like hell, your brain shaming you for telling him that information, judging you for being too easy. Thankfully, the customers start to leave, and the pace finally slows down. Your new coworker seems scared for her life, turning quiet after the incident.

“You okay?” you ask her as you step by her side, with no more drinks to make. She tries to give you a small smile.

“I’m fine… that just caught me off guard. I didn’t know people could be this mean to someone who’s just working,” she says softly.

“It doesn’t happen often,” you try to assure her, softly patting her shoulder. “It’s finally one p.m., and Munhee’s already here, so I’m leaving. Keep up the good work, and don’t worry about the mistakes they make on the first days.” You try to ease her mind before leaving, knowing how annoying Munhee can be.

Your eyes scan the room in the hope of seeing Jongseong, but he’s nowhere to be found. He left? You wonder, feeling a pang of disappointment.

The changing room feels cold as you strip off your uniform, but the memory of the warm day outside makes you smile, already coming up with different plans to fill the rest of your day. As you pull on your red, lacy top, your mind wanders back to Jay.

Where could he be? Why was he here every day you worked? Was he rich? Did he have a wife? Where does he work? What does he do? This might seem a little obsessive since you barely know him, but you can’t deny that over the past few days, there’s been a spark every time you spoke, and it made your heart jump in excitement.

You grab your black purse and grip your phone in your hand, thinking about investigating him on Instagram. Maybe you could find his account and start answering your questions there. But as you push open the heavy back door, you’re met with someone leaning against the wall.

“Sir, you can’t be here,” you begin, but when your eyes fully take in his features, the rest of your words die in your throat. “Jongseong?” you manage to let out, your heart once again speeding up.

“Hey, Y/N. You said you were leaving in half an hour, so… I waited here.”

He has a soft smile on his lips as he looks at you, waiting for your answer.

“I thought you didn’t get the memo. I looked around for you, and I didn’t see you,” you explain, feeling a little embarrassed by your honesty.

“I didn’t want the people to see me leave with you,” Jay says as he starts walking toward the main street.

You don’t like the way he says that, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you. A heavy silence settles between you as you walk down the main street, people pacing around, busy with their usual Saturday routines. Suddenly, your stomach growls, making Jay turn his head in your direction.

“You hungry?” he asks, glancing at you with a soft curiosity.

Your knees almost buckle under his intense gaze. “Yeah… I didn’t have time to eat before I left,” you confess, turning your head to the side in hopes that he doesn’t catch your flushed cheeks.

“Let me get you something to eat,” Jongseong offers, his hand gently brushing against yours, his index finger softly tracing your skin.

Following the delicious smells drifting down the street, you soon find yourself at the local market. The road is lined with food stalls stretching into the distance, and the sight immediately makes you smile. It had been a busy day at work, and you genuinely hadn’t had time to eat.

As your eyes scan the shops, Jay disappears from your side for a few minutes, and you watch him from afar, asking the nice old lady for a portion of food. When he starts walking back in your direction, you recognize the small portion of tteokbokki.

“Here, eat this while we look for a shop with full meals,” Jay instructs, handing you the small plate. The spicy smell hits your nose, and you close your eyes, savoring it.

“I love tteokbokki so much!” you say with a wide smile while looking at Jay. “Thank you so much!” As you shift the plate to your right hand so you can start eating, Jay walks behind you.

His long, bony fingers gently gather all of your hair, and then he ties it in a low bun with a hair tie. He takes his time, making sure the hairstyle looks as perfect as you. Slowly, you look over your shoulder and are met with his confused face as he studies your hair. When he feels your eyes on him, his gaze moves from your strands to your face.

“Gotta make sure you don’t get this beautiful hair dirty while eating,” he says, as if he were reading your mind.

The butterflies spreading in your stomach make you sure that maybe you are starting to develop a crush on him and his sweet demeanor. He comes back to your side and slowly starts walking, watching you while you eat the spicy rice cakes eagerly. Jongseong isn’t sure what’s making him act like this with you. He never does this with anyone, but you feel different.

As you walk past the people also looking for something to eat, you let the familiar noise help calm your racing heart, feeling like a kid with a crush. The last rice cake enters your mouth just in time, and Jay throws the plate in the trash while his eyes scan the shops, wondering which one you would like.

“Stay here. I’ll get it,” you tell him, smiling.

“No, wait—” He stops you, his right hand gently wrapping around your wrist. Your eyes travel to his hand, scanning his fingers for a sign of a wedding ring. But you can’t find anything. “Let me do it for you.”

“No, there’s no need for you to pay for my food, Jongseong,” you insist, trying to push his hand away from your skin.

“I want to,” he responds in a stern voice, eyeing your face. Jay loves the way his name rolls off your tongue, as if you were spelling out each syllable carefully just to affect him.

You press your lips together and roll your eyes, wanting badly to give in, but still feeling guilty about it. Jongseong’s other free hand gently taps yours, and his fingers leave your wrist right after. You watch as he walks up to yet another small shop and buys you a steaming bowl of bibimbap. He walks back to you as fast as he left, a smile on his face.

“Here you go. I hope you like it,” Jay says softly, his eyes affectionate as he hands you the warm food. “It’s almost two thirty. I have to go back to work. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer, YN.”

You gaze at him, hypnotized, hating how much you love the way your name sounds in his voice. Then you realize you’ve never actually told him your name. But before you can ask, you remember that your uniform has a name tag, and maybe that’s how he knows.

“You work on Saturdays too?” you ask, a little disappointed.

“Yeah. Being a lawyer isn’t as easy as it may seem. I have to study the case before court,” he explains, his right hand reaching for your cheek and gently caressing it.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he assures you, furrowing his eyebrows and looking down at you.

Another thing that makes you weak is his height and how much taller he is compared to you. “See you,” you wave at him as he starts walking away, blending into the big crowd of people.

You’ve never done this before, and you never thought you ever would, but all the mystery around Jay makes you curious. What he told you still hangs in your mind. Why didn’t he want people to see him with you? That must mean he has something to hide.

So, before you even realize it, you find yourself following his steps through the crowd. He seems to be in no rush, walking slowly along the busy streets like he has all the time in the world. You eat the bibimbap as you follow him, taking time to lean against a wall to hide every time he looks back or makes a turn.

Your heart beats faster the longer you go after him; the suspense of finding out something is making you nervous. As he crosses the road, you throw away the empty bowl and wait a few seconds before crossing it too.

From your hiding spot near a public bathroom, you watch him walk inside a big building covered in glass. The large letters outside spelling “Law Firm” confirm that his job is indeed being a lawyer. You slowly walk toward the building, taking your time to avoid running into him. You’re not sure what you’d do or say exactly if you did, but you can’t stop now. Not when you’re so close.

As you step inside the place, you’re met with a security pass just ahead. Behind it, a large coffee spot spreads out, with brown and white sitting areas and sofas. As your eyes scan the place, you notice a big sign saying they’re looking for a new manager for the coffee area, and a small smirk grows on your lips.

Is there any better way to get closer to Jongseong than working in the same building as him?

The next few days at work pass by surprisingly fast. Since it's officially summer, the coffee shop is always filled with happy teens asking for refreshing drinks. During the four days you’ve worked, Jongseong comes around just in time to see you get to work or a few moments before you leave, but this week he never kept you company after work.

You felt kind of disappointed about it, wanting to talk to him more and more every day, but he was always there at the café, waiting for you to call his name so you could hand him his drink. And every time you did, he’d walk over with that precious smile, making butterflies swirl in your stomach. Jay’s fingers would linger on yours every time you passed him the cup, causing a faint pink blush to paint your cheeks.

Sometimes, when the café was calm, you’d pretend to clean the tables near him just so you could admire him, mesmerized by his prominent jawline and expensive clothes. Other times he’d call for you, pretending he needed something, just so you’d come over to his table and talk to him. Jongseong would ask about your day, scold you if you hadn’t eaten yet, and always flash you his beautiful smile and those small dimples.

Of course, he was unaware of the days you followed him back to his workplace, unaware of how you weren’t exactly as innocent as he thought. This week, you’d started taking photos of him, carefully, of course. He was clueless about how you admired those pictures in your bed late at night, drowned in thoughts of him. Every time you lay down and closed your eyes, you could hear his voice saying your name in a needy tone; you could imagine his long fingers tracing your thighs and making you scream his name.

That handsome face of his—you wanted to see it contort in pleasure so badly. Or maybe in pain, as you sink your teeth into his flesh and mark him up so everyone knows he’s yours. Every time Jay asked if you slept well, you always said yes with the biggest smile on your lips.

Today you were working with your work-bestie, Jihyo, who was always funny and matched your energy at work. As you spoke to Jay, her eyes stayed glued to the two of you. She found it adorable how shy you became when he was close, but as Jihyo observed his face more carefully, she realized he was the man from the other day, the one who’d asked about you.

Something inside her stirred, and she felt sick. Call it a bad omen, but she wasn’t as happy to see you with him anymore, realizing how creepy the whole thing seemed. When you started walking back with a tray filled with empty cups, she ran to your side to help you load them into the dishwasher.

“I have something to tell you,” she said in a low voice, her tone hinting that something was wrong.

“I have something to tell you too!” you added with a bright smile, completely missing the worry on her face.

“I’m serious, Y/N…” Jihyo said sternly, her fingers tightening around a cup. “That guy you were talking to—he came here last week asking about you. At first, I thought he knew you from somewhere and was going to tell me something about you, but he didn’t even know your name. I had to tell him. The new hire mentioned you were on your rest day, and I told him that.”

She explained, pushing the dishwasher door closed. You looked at her with furrowed brows, not understanding where she was going with this.

“So I told him your schedule. I didn’t mean to, but it just happened. Munhee told me he’s been here every day just to see you. Isn’t that creepy?” she asked, her eyes wide as she looked into yours.

“Creepy? No!” you giggled. “He’s just interested in me and trying to impress me.” She didn’t like your answer.

“No, listen to me. It wouldn’t be weird if he came from time to time… but every single day you work?” Jihyo insisted, that bad feeling stirring inside her once again.

“I think it’s kind of hot, honestly. Relax,” you told her, giving her a side hug. “I know how to take care of myself, and besides, I like him too.” Jihyo wanted to believe you, wanted to ignore the heavy sense of dread sitting in her chest, but it was too much.

Still, she forced a small smile. “Well, you know I’m always here if you need me,” she added, and you made a cute pout before giving her a real hug.

“Aw, you’re so cute! I know you are; that’s why I want to tell you something!” you teased, excitement lighting up your face. “I’m going to be a manager!” you announced, and Jihyo’s face lit up with the biggest smile you’d ever seen.

“Oh my god, girl! I’m so proud of you!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, but don’t get too excited… because it won’t be here,” you said, watching her expression shift. “It’s in a big building, a law firm. They have this massive coffee shop area, and the pay is wonderful!”

She stayed silent.

“Come on, Jihyo! Say something,” you pleaded, batting your eyelashes at her.

“I’m happy for you, girl, but… this whole thing… it has a weird vibe,” she confessed, still trying to keep her smile.

“It’s going to be fine~!” you said, brushing off her concern before turning your back to check on the new customers waiting at the counter.

You didn’t notice the horrified look on Jihyo's face when she realized Jay had been standing by the counter the entire time — his eyes locked on hers as she voiced all of her concerns. When her gaze met Jongseong’s, his stare was intense and uncomfortable. The charming and sweet aura he usually carried was gone. The way his eyes darkened made him look like a complete psychopath, and a shiver ran up her spine.

Quickly, she turned her back on him and hurried to the backroom, needing a deep breath before returning to the front. But the image of Jongseong’s deadly stare was already engraved in her mind.

Walking down the usual street today makes you feel emotional, knowing it’s your last day working in this place. Memories cross your mind, and you remember all the good days at work, the laughter, and the fun you shared with your coworkers. A small smile grows on your lips, but it doesn’t last long. When you walk into the café, you notice how empty it is despite it being a Saturday.

The day outside is warm and bright, spreading positivity that should motivate people to leave their homes, yet only a few customers are sitting inside, chatting quietly. Your eyes meet Munhee’s, and she gives you a fake smile, as if silently saying you should have come in earlier. You return a forced smile.

Since it’s so quiet and slow, you tell her to stay behind the counter while you grab some cleaning supplies to give the coffee machine a deep clean. To your surprise, she agrees without protest. So you busy yourself with the mission of scrubbing every inch of the machine while vibing to the music playing from the speakers.

Two hours later, the place is still somehow deserted. Your eyes scan the few customers inside, and you realize Jongseong hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe he won’t come today, and if he doesn’t, you won’t get to tell him it’s your last day. You hadn’t mentioned it before because you wanted it to be a surprise, but since he hadn’t waited for you after work this week, you never got the chance.

As your mind drifts, you remember how strange he looked yesterday. When you left work around lunchtime, you grabbed a quick bite and waited near the building where he works. But to your surprise, he didn’t leave until nine p.m., looking exhausted and maybe a little sick. His skin was paler than usual, and you watched him sneeze a few times before getting into his car.

Perhaps he’s taking a sick day, you think. With that thought in mind, you try to keep yourself busy, cleaning everything within reach. After the coffee machine, you tackle the pastry display, then the inside windows, the tables, and even the floor. Sweat forms on your forehead as you proudly admire the spotless windows, not a single fingerprint in sight.

You find yourself standing in the middle of the room when your eyes catch the TV, where an elderly woman is crying, pleading for her missing daughter to come home. The sight brings back memories of the girl who disappeared weeks ago. Tears well up in your eyes at the woman’s desperate words, so you quickly look away, trying to regain your composure.

With your shift almost over and hunger setting in, you grab a chocolate muffin and head to the back for a quiet moment. But your peace doesn’t last long.

“That weirdo stalker guy you like is here. He’s outside,” Munhee announces with a smug smile.

“Don’t you think you should worry more about your own creepy boyfriend? It’s weird how you pretend he’s not a whole thirty-five-year-old dating a nineteen-year-old,” you snap back, tired of her constant jabs.

Truth be told, her comments about Jay have been grating on your nerves for days. The second the words leave your mouth, her face twists in shock, clearly not expecting you to bite back.

“He’s not a creep! I’m not a minor!” she shouts as you head toward the back door, refusing to engage any further.

Outside, Jongseong stands against the wall, looking more casual than usual. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants, and your eyes trail over his toned arms, following the line of his muscles until he notices you.

“Hey,” he greets you, his voice deeper than usual.

“Hey. What’s up with you?” you ask, pretending not to know he’s sick.

“Caught a cold. Not sure why,” Jay explains, his gaze fixed on you. “You’re not done with work yet?”

“No, but only ten minutes left,” you reply with a grin, your eyes drifting to his neck.

“I’ll wait here,” he assures you.

You nod and slip back inside, closing the rusty back door behind you. The last ten minutes pass quickly as you put the cleaning supplies away and wash your hands.

“I’m leaving,” you inform Munhee, untying the knot of your apron.

“No, you’re supposed to close!” she whines, but you just flash her a smile.

“I don’t care. Goodbye,” you reply, heading toward the changing room. Before you disappear, you add one final jab. “Oh, and tell your boyfriend I’d never sleep with him, no matter how much he begged the last time.”

The way her face flushes with rage makes you laugh as you slip away. Quickly, you change into your long black dress and boots, leaving the uniform behind for good. When you step outside again, Jay is standing right by the door. His eyes rake over your figure, taking in the way the soft fabric of your dress hugs your curves.

“Shall we go?” he asks, extending his hand.

You nod and let him take your hand; his fingers warm around yours.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask with a smirk, your other hand clutching your purse.

“I thought we could grab something delicious at the local market. Like last time,” he suggests, glancing at you.

“Sounds good. But you’re not going to ditch me this time, right?” you tease, pouting up at him.

“I won’t leave, princess. I promise,” Jay assures you, his dark eyes softening with affection.

Your face lights up with a wide smile as you stroll alongside him, the silence between you feeling warm and comfortable. You take in the busy street, the hum of conversations, and the scent of street food filling the air.

As Jongseong’s eyes wander over the bustling city, you wonder what’s going through his mind. He always looks so composed and serious, but when he looks at you, his entire face softens. That change in him is what draws you in the most. He’s unreadable.

“What are you feeling today? Rice or noodles?” he asks, stopping in the middle of the road to admire your face.

“Hmm… maybe noodles,” you say thoughtfully, your eyes meeting his.

Jay nods, his lips curling into a small smile. “Let’s see what options we have.” His eyes scan the line of food stalls ahead. “Oh, what about rabokki?” he suggests, and the way your face lights up tells him he’s made the right call.

This time you and him walk together to the small shop and sit down on the plastic chairs while waiting for the food to be ready. You rest your chin in your hands and look at Jay once again, analyzing every inch of his handsome face. Then, a question pops into your head:

“Can you tell me a bit more about yourself? We've been talking for weeks, and you didn't even tell me your age,” you say.

Jay presses his lips together and rubs his hands, seeming a little embarrassed. “I’m not half as interesting as you think I am. But you are right. I’m 25, I am a lawyer, and I’m single. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here with you.”

“Hmmm, a loyal man, I see. I like those,” you joke, earning a laugh from him. “I’m 23, a very skilled barista, and I'm also single,” you share.

Jay admires the way your lips curve into a smile as you speak, making your cheeks look fuller. He might seem laid back and confident, but the way you are making him question things about himself kind of scares him. You're so cute and hardworking… such an angel.

His thoughts are interrupted by the voice of the old lady saying that the food is ready. Proving once again how much of a gentleman he is, Jongseong gets up from his spot and reaches for the two hot bowls, setting them on the table. For drinks, you both choose a Coca-Cola can and get some kimchi on the side.

Silence sits with you at the table as you both start to eat, but despite not talking, there is something hanging in the air. You can feel it every time you accidentally lock eyes with Jay. A shot of electricity that you haven't felt with anyone else. You notice every single little movement he makes as you eat—the way he grips his chopsticks and the way his free hand gently holds the bowl.

“I need to tell you something,” you say in a low voice, your eyes nervously avoiding his.

“Tell me.”

“I quit my job, and I'm starting somewhere else,” you finally disclose.

Jay flashes you a smile.

“That is great! Why are you acting like it's a big deal?” he asks, chewing on a piece of rice cake.

“Well, I won't be able to see you so much.” It is an obvious lie because the place you've been employed is in the same building as his job, but he doesn't know that.

“Oh, that's what worries you?” he adds with a small smirk, teasingly. “We can try to make our schedules align and go out anyway.”

“Maybe,” you simply say as that weird feeling from the other day spreads across your body.

The words you want to say die in your throat as your body suddenly becomes hyper-aware of what is happening around you. Jongseong notices the way you suddenly turn quiet and finds it strange. As his eyes analyze your face, he sees that you have turned pale.

It seems like you are trying to listen to the girls behind you, your body leaning into them just enough for him to notice. “YN, are you okay?” he asks, concerned, his hand sliding across the table and gently holding yours.

“Yeah… It’s just that the girls behind me are talking about that girl and those men who have been missing for months. And I don't know why, but every time I think about them, I feel sick,” you explain, nervously swirling around the little bit of noodles you have left.

You don't notice how his face turns cold as you talk about the missing people. Your eyes are busy looking at your food. But Jay’s jaw tightens, and his skin becomes warmer.

“YN, I would never let anyone come near you to hurt you,” Jongseong tells you, his eyes serious and dark as he gazes into your face, looking at your eyes. “I can protect you. You don't need to be scared.”

You finally lift your face and look into his eyes, but they barely offer any comfort. Instead, they make your throat close. “Thank you,” you manage to say, pulling away from his hand. “Can we leave? I’m feeling suffocated,” you ask him, but it sounds more desperate than you intended.

Jay nods his head and stands up to go pay for the meal. After that, he signals you to walk in front of him as he slowly follows behind, his hand barely resting on your lower back, trying to offer you some comfort. When you are finally back on the main road, the fresh air feels incredible as you take a deep breath, but the discomfort from before is still present.

Not understanding what your body is trying to tell you, you try to come up with an excuse to go home. Soon enough, you find one.

“Thank you so much for the meal, but I'm feeling exhausted. I think I need some rest,” you explain, stopping your walk to look at Jay, whose eyes haven't left your frame for one second.

“Sure, princess, I can take you home if you want.” Jongseong suggests.

“No, it's okay. You're sick; maybe it's better you go rest too!” you deny his request, needing to be alone to process what you are feeling.

“Alright, as you wish,” Jongseong adds in a sweet tone, his hand reaching out for your face so he can caress your cheek.

You close your eyes and lean into his palm, the feeling of his touch burning your skin in the best way possible. As you open your eyes, you observe the little dimples on his cheeks as he smiles at your cute reaction.

“Maybe you can give me your number?” Jay asks, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean… I just want to know if you're okay when—”

���Of course I can, dummy. Here.” You reach for your phone and show him your number. He quickly grabs his cellphone and types in your contact information. Then he calls you for a few seconds so you can save his number too.

“Text me when you get home,” he adds sweetly as he leans forward and plants a small kiss on your forehead.

Your cheeks feel warm all over again, his manly demeanor putting you under his spell. You don't say anything else; just wave at him and start your way back to your place, your heart still jumping happily at the faint sensation of his kiss on your skin.

Later, when you get home, you quickly text him, “I’m home, Jay,” and then run to your bathroom to take a long, hot shower. You use that time to think about what you felt and what your next step will be since you've got the job at the same place as him. These feelings that you have for him are much more than just a crush. You crave him. You want to know every single detail about him. You want to be the center of his world, and you want him only for yourself.

As you start to dry your damp body, your phone vibrates, signaling that Jongseong has responded to your text: “I’m glad, princess. I’m also at home. My body feels heavy, so I'm going to sleep. Have a good rest of the day!” You read the message, and a smile automatically grows on your lips at the nickname.

Deep down, you want to pursue this relationship normally, but you can't help but want to know more about him as fast as possible. If he ever found out you follow him almost every day and that you got this job just to be closer to him, he would probably be freaked out and leave. But you would never let that happen.

When Monday rolls in, you jump out of bed with extra energy, excited to start this new job. You did apply to be closer to Jay, but the opportunity is genuinely attractive. Being the manager can't be much different from what you've done before, since you used to be responsible for the café all the time due to the many months you'd worked there.

So, you put on a black suit and a thin white blouse with the first two buttons undone, exposing your chest. On your feet, you wear some comfortable low heels, and you put on your favorite perfume. Causing a good first impression is the most important part. With one last look in the mirror, you leave your apartment and take the subway that drops you closer to the building.

Stepping inside the familiar building feels good; the thrill of the challenges makes you speed up with excitement. As soon as the doorman sees you, he comes by and hands you your key card so you can finally have access inside. On the other side of security, an older lady is waiting to show you around the whole coffee space.

She excitedly shows you around, starting with the sitting area and then moving to the kitchen. It’s equipped with the latest machines and hardware, making you wish you'd come here earlier. After the tour, you have a meeting to discuss your duties and meet all the employees, who are girls in their early twenties. They seem responsible and hardworking, and that’s all they need to be to keep you satisfied.

Lunchtime comes faster than you realize, and soon the entire morning is over. As you sit inside the small office behind the kitchen, you notice you haven't eaten anything yet, so you walk to the counter and snatch a small slice of apple pie and an iced coffee. But before you can turn around and go back to your office, a familiar voice calls out to you:

“YN? What are you doing here?” Jongseong asks, surprised, his eyes admiring your frame.

“I work here.” You watch as his face turns confused.

“Wait, the place you told me about is… here?”

“Yeah.” A silence settles for a few moments before you remember you need to act like you didn’t know he was going to be here. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“I work here too. I mean, in the offices above, but yeah.” You open your mouth, faking surprise.

“There is no way! This has to be destiny,” you joke, smirking at him.

Jay shakes his head and smiles. “Yeah, let’s call it destiny.”

“I have to go back to work. There’s a bunch of paperwork to go through,” you complain, trying your best to sound bored.

“I understand. I’ll see you around.”

You wave at him one last time before walking back to the office. Closing the door behind you, you sit down on the tall chair, your mind making new plans to learn just a little more about your crush. Jay looked extra good today, wearing a full black suit and shirt, complementing his black hair. While your mind wanders back to his handsome face, you find yourself working automatically.

The rest of the day passes by incredibly slowly, and by the third hour alone in the office, you decide you need somewhere else to work. So, you grab your stuff and walk to the sitting area of the café, choosing a corner seat with a clear view of the exit so you can see when Jongseong leaves.

Just as you predicted, Jay appears at the exit a few hours later, and when his eyes meet yours, he waves goodbye and leaves. You know exactly how long it takes him to get to his car—four minutes—so you stand up, clear your stuff, and leave the building.

Today is the day you find out where he lives.

Since you came by subway, you need to find a taxi soon, and as if the universe is on your side, an old man stops right by you. You get inside and ask him to follow Jay’s car, faking a story that he’s your husband, and you think he’s cheating on you. The poor old man swallows your story and eagerly follows Jay. A few minutes pass, and as Jay starts parking, you tell the kind old man to drop you off. He shows you a sympathetic smile and tells you to be strong.

You leave the taxi with a stupid smile, not believing how well you lie. From the corner of the street, hiding behind a tall brick wall, you watch Jay grab his usual work bag and walk toward a very luxurious house, tall trees lining the front gate and surrounding the property. How can a lawyer afford this kind of house? You wonder. There is something he isn’t telling you.

Patiently wait for him to get inside the house before slowly crossing the street and walking closer. Curiously, you take a stroll around the house, your eyes carefully analyzing each door and window, making sure to avoid being seen. You catch a glimpse of him in the living room, taking off his blazer and then throwing himself onto the sofa, legs spread and shirt half unbuttoned.

The sight makes your body heat rise and your mouth water. Jongseong always looks so manly and confident, causing your obsession to grow. You leave him for a few moments to study the area and think about a good place to park your car next time you come to see him. You didn’t drive today, so he wouldn’t recognize your car if he ever spotted it while you were watching him.

You don’t like to call it stalking. You’re just looking after him, making sure he isn’t lying to you about his life. Your eyes dart up to the sky, and you realize it’s getting dark. For your safety, you decide to head home and be done for the day. You take one last round around the house before leaving, and to your surprise, Jay is no longer visible in any of the windows. Not even his shadow in the bathroom's opaque glass. Despite finding it a little strange, you start walking down the main road, planning to take the bus back home.

A month passes incredibly fast between learning your new position at work and watching Jay almost every day at his house. You find yourself enjoying managing the café more than you thought you would. Taking care of the employees, making sure everything is well done, and checking the weekly supply orders. It is definitely easier than dealing with rude customers.

You have also surprisingly enjoyed watching Jay eat his dinner at home almost every day while you silently eat something from the outside, as if you are eating together. You notice he has a very strict routine. He comes home, watches TV for an hour, then prepares dinner and eats. After that, he goes to his office, works a little more, and then goes to sleep.

You have watched him undress his work clothes and change into his pajamas a few times, but it still catches you by surprise every time. His body is well-built and proportional for someone who doesn't seem to work out. He has muscular arms and a lean frame. And his Calvin Klein boxers never fail to make you squeeze your thighs together, unable to control your mind from imagining all the possible steaming scenarios with him.

You can almost see yourself on your knees in front of his king-sized bed, face to face with his boxers, eyes locked on his as he gently brushes your bottom lip with his thumb and forces himself inside your mouth. You wouldn’t mind him being a little rough. All you want is to please him, to watch his face drip with sweat as you work hard to make him cum.

It hasn't been easy to keep your thoughts pure around him since you've been eating lunch together every day. Every time his dark brown irises meet yours, there is an unspoken desire that makes your body shiver. You feel his eyes linger on your chest when you're having a conversation, and the truth is you open an extra button every time he comes around, on purpose to give him a show.

You can also feel his eyes burn into your waist and thighs every time you bend down to get something from the ground, and you love it so much. You love feeling desired by him. You love the feeling of his hungry gaze on you. You're sure he can see how your breathing quickens every time he accidentally brushes against you, pressing his hips into yours when squeezing past the counter to follow you to your office.

The way he always leans in the door frame, his seductive eyes and addicting cologne invading your office, makes it impossible not to think about him even when he’s gone. And today is no different. You're sitting across from him in the building’s cafeteria. The atmosphere is calm and comfortable as the people around you chat and laugh.

As you put a bunch of glass noodles into your mouth, your eyes wander to the big TV on the wall. The same words flash across the screen again, and that unsettling feeling spreads across your body like wildfire. Another man is missing. That makes it three people in three months. Your mind wanders to how the police are doing absolutely nothing to look for them, just showing their faces in hopes someone has seen them.

“They should probably start looking for their dead bodies, no?” you comment in a low voice, your eyes now flicking in Jay’s direction.

“What?” he asks, sounding uninterested, covering his mouth as he speaks to keep chewing his food.

“The missing men and the girl. They should probably look for their dead bodies, right? I mean, it’s been three months since the first girl went missing.” You explain your point, uncomfortably shoving around the rest of your food.

“Maybe. I don't know,” Jongseong replies, his voice avoidant and deep.

The silence that follows feels suffocating, making it hard to finish your meal, but you eventually do. Jay finishes his food faster than you, then stands up and gives you a quick “see you later” before leaving the table. You find his behavior odd, but you already felt uneasy yourself, so you figure you could also use some extra time alone.

The end of the day rolls by incredibly slowly, and you find yourself exhausted. You consider skipping your usual routine of watching Jay tonight, but something in your gut tells you to go. Despite the exhaustion weighing you down, you change into black clothes and drive to his house.

As usual, you turn off the engine and stay inside the car for a few minutes, making sure he isn’t around, and it’s safe to leave. But as your eyes scan the road, you notice that Jay’s car isn’t in the driveway like it usually is. Intrigued and with a strange gut feeling, you decide to stay right where you are. The tiredness slowly starts to get to you, your eyes growing heavier by the minute.

Just as you’re about to fall asleep, the sound of a car passing by wakes you up. You focus the second you notice it’s Jongseong’s car, but unlike usual, he opens the gates and parks inside his house. You wait just a few more minutes before stepping outside, making sure he’s already in the house when you move.

You walk slowly to the front of the house, making sure no one can see you behind the plants lining the street. Your eyes follow his movements inside, from the hall to the bathroom and then to his bedroom. You glance at your wristwatch and realize it’s already on a.m., and this isn’t normal for Jay. He’s always home by eight and follows the same routine every day.

Outside, you peek around the corner and move to the bedroom side of the house. Between the curtains, you watch him start to undress. He’s wearing something unusual—black pants, a long black T-shirt, and a baggy black hoodie on top. Your brows furrow as your eyes travel along his body. There are dark, sticky stains on the side of his jaw and his forearms. From this distance, you can’t quite tell what it is, but it sends a strange feeling crawling up your spine.

For a brief moment, curiosity gets the best of you, and you lean forward, but you slip and fall against the bushes. You let out a faint, panicked sound, but you think you’re safe. Jongseong is close to the window, his eyes scanning the area, but he doesn’t see you. After a few tense moments, you carefully watch him move back to the center of the room.

Jay never thought he would feel this way, threatened and scared. He’d noticed a different car in his neighborhood, one that was never in the same spot in the morning, but he thought he was just seeing things. Now that he’s seen you, it all makes sense. He can’t believe you would do something like this, after all; he thought you were a naive person.

He knows that if he acts any differently than usual, you’ll probably realize you were seen, so he tries his best to give you a good show. Jongseong starts by slowly taking off the rest of his clothes, letting his hands brush against his bare abs longer than usual. He can’t see you, but he’s sure you’re there because he can feel your eyes on his body.

Jongseong then turns his back to the window and slips his boxers off, something he’s never done before. He takes his time reaching for the clean boxers on his bed, dragging out the moment before sliding them on just as slowly. When they’re finally secured around his waist, he turns back around and stretches, his muscles flexing under his skin.

Maybe he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is, but if you came all the way here, he might as well make it worth it. After his little seductive show, he lays down on his bed and turns off the lights. As his head rests against the cold pillow, he wonders how long you’ve been doing this and how long you usually stay. Despite his tired and sore body, sleep doesn’t come easily, as the strange sensation of being watched still lingers.

After a few restless minutes, Jay figures it’s time to stop hiding the truth and finally tell you everything. Since you seem to be just as crazy as him, it shouldn’t be too hard, right?

The next day, the same routine with Jay follows. He waits for you by the cafeteria door so you can eat lunch together. When you start walking in his direction, he waves and smiles, seemingly happy to see you.

“Hey!” You greet him excitedly.

“Hello, princess.” He responds, matching your energy.

“Did you sleep well yesterday?” You ask as the two of you walk to the center of the cafeteria to grab your food.

Jay glances at your face, and there it is again, the innocence. Your eyes are big and sweet, and your lips curled into an affectionate smile. He can't believe you’ve been following him all this time.

“I didn’t sleep much, honestly. Bad nightmares kept me awake,” he explains as he reaches for a bowl of kimchi soup.

“Nightmares? They’re the worst. I have a lot of them.” You pout, grabbing a bowl as well.

“I know.”

Jongseong’s words make you quickly turn your face in his direction.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, statistically, women are more likely to have nightmares. So I figured you probably have more than me.”

Though he feels like that was a lame excuse, you seem to take it at face value.

Silence settles between you as you find a table and sit down, enjoying the peace. Despite seeming normal, you’re clearly deep in thought. Your eyebrows furrow as you eat, and your lips occasionally press together in a thin line.

“I have something to ask you.” Jongseong says, pulling you from your thoughts. “I’ve been talking for a while, and I was thinking… would you like to come over tonight? Have dinner with me?”

You’re obviously caught by surprise. He can tell by the blush that spreads across your face. Your eyes seem to sparkle under the ceiling lights, like you’ve been dreaming of this for a long time.

“Of course, I’d love that, Jongseong.” You smile, your heart skipping a beat under his dark iris.

“Good. That’s good,” Jay whispers, more to himself than to you.

Don’t get him wrong. He does have second intentions in asking you this. But he’s also genuinely excited to have a moment alone with you. To get to know you better. For you to get to know him better.

The rest of the day passes teasingly slowly, and when the clock finally hits six, you sprint out of the building to get to the subway as fast as possible. You’re finally taking a step further into the relationship, and you have to make sure you look your best, just for him.

When you get home, you leave your heels at the door and head straight for the bathroom. You take a long shower, using the expensive shampoo that leaves your hair smelling divine for days, and lathering yourself in a floral-scented body wash. You want him to lose himself in you the moment he gets close enough to breathe you in.

After the shower, you carefully dry your hair and style it with loose curls. Then, you put on the black dress that has been sitting in the back of your closet for years. It’s made of a thin, slightly heavy material that clings to your curves despite its loose fit. To finish, you slip on your red bottoms and fasten a dainty silver necklace around your neck.

Checking the time, you realize it’s almost eight, the time Jay asked you to arrive. He sent you his address by text, little knowing how familiar you already are with it. You arrive faster than intended, so you stay in your car for a few extra minutes, reapplying your lipstick and taking a deep breath.

After convincing yourself that you look good enough, you walk to the pavement near his house and send him a text, telling him to come outside since you don’t know which house is his. Jay responds almost immediately and appears within seconds. You watch as he steps out the front door, making his way toward the gate.

“Here, love,” Jay calls to you in the sexiest tone you’ve heard from him yet. You flash him a smile and walk toward him.

Jongseong watches your every move, mesmerized by the way you look. You always look good, but today you really took your time to drive him crazy. His eyes flicker down to your chest as it bounces with each step, lost in the sight of you. He thinks about dragging the truth out just a little longer, just enough to touch you. But he’s waited long enough.

“You look so handsome, Mr. Jongseong.” You flirt as you walk past him, your eyes accentuated by dark makeup.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” he responds, throwing you one of his signature side glances, the ones he knows make you shy.

And the way you turn your head away to hide a smile? He finds it cute how well he knows you.

You both walk into the house in silence, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

You carefully analyze every detail of the place, finally being able to take it all in up close. As expected, Jay has great taste in interior decor. The house is eclectic yet meticulously clean. As you stepped further inside, the sound of your heels echoed through the empty space, reflecting the rapid beat of your heart.

Suddenly, you feel Jay’s presence behind you, his figure still towering over you despite your heels. You turn your head slightly to the side, trying to follow the movement of his hands. He gently takes hold of your blazer sleeve, his eyes locked onto yours. First, one side slips off, then the other. Soon, he’s holding your jacket in his hands.

You turn to watch him hang it up. “Thank you, Jay,” you say softly. You're breathing unsteady from his faint touch.

“You’re welcome, princess. Shall we go to the kitchen?”

Jay guides you with his hand resting lightly on your lower back. When you step into the modern-style kitchen, you’re caught off guard by the dim lighting, the red rose petals scattered across the table, and the expensive champagne. Your eyes widen at the sight, the romantic gesture making you crave him even more.

“Woah, Jay, this is beautiful!” You exclaim, turning to look at the mastermind behind it all.

He gives you a proud smile, his small dimples appearing. “You deserve all of this.”

Jongseong steps closer, his intoxicating scent invading your senses. His hands settle on your hips, but his eyes never leave yours. The warmth of his touch seeps through your skin, sending heat through your entire body.

“Let’s sit down and eat.” He suggests, his head tilting slightly.

“Sure.” You respond, breathless.

Jay pulls out your chair for you, and your stomach flutters at the gesture. You love these little gentlemanly moves of his. He then circles the table, pouring you a glass of champagne as he begins serving the food.

But suddenly, something inside you shifts. Your breath quickens, and your palms begin to sweat.

What is this feeling?

Deep down, you know. It’s the same feeling that overwhelms you when you see the faces of missing people on TV. A warning. A bad omen.

Jay doesn’t notice the shift in your mood, too focused on making your plate look perfect, wanting to impress you with his cooking skills.

“Can I use the bathroom?” You ask suddenly, standing up a little too fast.

“Sure, it’s down the hall, the door on the right.” He gives you a curious look but doesn’t question it.

He could notice the weird way you were walking, as if your legs felt weak, but he tried to ignore it, wanting to follow his plan. Jay waits patiently for you while sitting down at his table, the hot rice and steak steam hitting his nose and making him hungry. But you were taking longer than you usually do, and he found it strange.

You find yourself lost in that immense corridor, or maybe it was the anxiety that was making it harder. You close your eyes and try hard to remember which side Jay said the restroom was, but it's all gone. The corridor is empty, quiet, and haunted, making goosebumps form all over your skin. Your legs fail you for a few seconds, and your body falls forward, towards the wall.

You use your hands to steady yourself, pressing them against the wall as all the oxygen in your lungs seems to fade away. Just as you thought that things couldn't get any worse, you feel something move under your fingers.

Confused, you knock on the wall a few times, and the sound that it makes is dry and loud, as if there were a room behind it. With a little extra stretch, you seem to press the right place, and a small gap forms on the wall. You take two steps back, unsure of what to do, but your intuition is screaming for you to check it out.

You ponder on the possibility for a few minutes, though your heart is telling you to leave this house and never come back. Despite the desperate pleas of your gut, you decide to slide the door just enough so you can step inside and are faced with stairs going down. Due to the lack of light, you let your right hand slide across the cement wall and go down, steadying your body.

Soon you find yourself inside a large basement. It is still rough, with no color or tiles on the wall or on the ground, just plain gray cement. The smell is unpleasantly clean, and instead of bringing you peace, it makes your stomach twist. As you walk further down, you are faced with a large table and a sink, and as you stroll closer, you realize that there is a small ax resting there. It is all clean, despite a few small red stains on the wooden handle.

A gasp leaves your mouth, and you cover it to try to keep quiet, but it doesn't do much, because when you turn to your side, what you see is even worse.

“What the hell is this?” you whisper to yourself as you step closer.

Before you is a big whiteboard filled with pictures of you and things related to you. You notice a picture of your apartment, one of your car, one of you walking by your main window, and one of your old workplace. As your eyes wander more, you recognize the faces of three people. They are pictures of the missing people, and they have a red cross on top of them.

Your mouth dries out, and your heart starts to beat uncontrollably fast against your rib cage. Fear takes over your body, and you start to shake, the adrenaline pumping hard.

“Oh, you're here already? I thought we were having dinner first.” Jay’s voice says its mocking tone, sending shivers down your spine.

Your head turns to him, and you watch how he slowly walks over to you, his face a mix of seriousness and something else you can't quite identify.

“What... what is all of this?” you stutter, your voice failing you.

“This is my master plan, YN,” Jongseong confesses. “I know you thought you were the one who had this under control, but I did. I made it all happen, princess.”

“I don't... I don't understand. You've been stalking me?” you ask with a strangled voice, your throat closing up.

“It's way more than that. Can’t you see it?” Jay adds, feeling annoyed. “I made everything happen. You getting that job instead of the other girl, coming there every day and letting you work in my company. I even protected you from creeps and evil men. Look.” He pointed at the two male faces. “Can't you recognize them?” he insists, tapping on the photographs hung on the board.

Now that you think about it, you do recognize the three faces. The woman was the girl who was fighting for your position when you applied for the job at the café where you met Jay. The first male face was from the guy who yelled at you at that same café, and the last one was Munhee’s boyfriend.

“What did you do to them?” you ask as tears start forming in your eyes. No, this can't be real; this can't be happening.

“I killed them all,” Jay responded with a smile. “Aren't you going to say thank you?”

“Say thank you... Are you crazy? What the actual fuck?!” you shout at him, tears silently rolling down your cheeks. But to your surprise, Jongseong just smiles as you yell.

“Yes, you should be thankful. If I hadn't killed that girl, you would never have had that job because she slept with the owner to secure it. The man that shouted at you was pleasurable to kill. After all, he was just a creep addicted to porn. And your coworker's boyfriend? It wasn't just a favor to you, but to the world. That fucker was a pedophile. Besides dating a literal barely adult, he had multiple videos of... you know what.”

You remain silent at his words. Though it is horrifying what he did, he kind of... did something good. They weren't exactly good people, and he just got rid of them for you. There is another shift in the atmosphere, and Jay seems to notice it because he steps closer to you and wraps an arm around your waist.

“Jongseong...”

“Don't act like you weren't obsessive over me as well,” he starts. “I saw you the other night when you fell and made that noise that startled me. And I know you followed me all the way to my company and applied to that job just to be closer to me.” Jay shows you a devilish smirk as he watches your cheeks turn red. “I had just killed that pedo when I caught you spying on me. It was a funny coincidence if you ask me.”

“What do you mean,'my company?’ ”You ask, confused.

“I own the building and the advocacy company. I was the one who accepted your candidature for the coffee department.” Jay explains as one of his hands reaches for a stray strand of your hair and puts it behind your ear. “And I did all of this so you can be mine.”

You know this is psychotic and disturbing; you know you should be afraid, and yet you find yourself leaning into his touch.

“I have been yours, Jay. All of this was unnecessary,” you try to reason.

“No, don't you get it? I made you fall for me,” he insists, his hands now holding your face.

“It doesn't matter how it happened. I am yours,” you confess once again, your eyes shifting into something that Jongseong had yet to see.

Slowly, he starts to lean in, his warm breath ghosting against your lips as he holds your face in place. With no more hesitation, his plump lips kiss yours slowly but eagerly. The kiss felt better than all the fantasies you've made in your head, and his tongue was definitely more dominant as it danced with yours, tasting you as if you were his favorite meal. Your hands fly to his hair, and you pull on it gently, earning a sound from him.

“But now, princess,” he whispers against your lips in a low tone, “I have to kill you too since you know all about me.”

Your heart starts beating fast against your rib cage all over again, his indifferent stare making you sweat cold. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, too stunned to form coherent phrases.

Jay watches the way your features turn to fear in a matter of seconds, and he feels disappointed that you believe his words. After all, would he do all of this just to end up killing you?

“I’m joking, my love. I would never hurt you, never,” he adds with a smirk that worries you more than calms you down. His thumb caresses your cheek lovingly. “But I am serious about something, though. You can never leave this house ever again. After all, no one but you can know about all of this.”

Jongseong plants a small kiss on your forehead, and before you can realize what he said, it is too late. He was several steps away from you, and as you ran up the stairs behind him, he closed the invisible door, locking you inside the basement. Panic takes over your whole body that instant, and you bump against the door with all the strength you have, but it's useless.

As you slump down the door, tears start to form in your eyes, and you break down crying.

Jay listens to your sobs from the other side of the door. And though it makes his heart ache, it's necessary to make sure that you would never tell anyone about what he did. The playlist he made for the night is still playing as he sits down alone in the kitchen and starts to eat. His thoughts travel to the future, where you would freely walk around the house, waiting for him to come back from work so he can take care of you as no one else can.

As he sings the lyrics of the song with the feeling, ‘Love’s the death of peace of mind,’ he finds himself agreeing with them. Because ever since he laid his eyes on you, he was never at peace again.

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things @nxzz-skz @saphiranishimurashan @ikeupups @yangjungwonnie @xiiaobaoo @itsuen @laylasbunbunny @mellowgalaxystrawberry @firstclassjaylee @questionsdearreader @greeyjre @en-doll @riqomi @lovingvoidgoatee @mitmit01 @miuwonis @aureliaaaa555 @han-to-my-minho @heeweenie @vixensss @ro-diares @hoonvinx @immelissaaa @jiryunn @quilevyt @vrusha01 @kkamismom12 @skzenhalove @theothernads @moonpri @nicoleparadas @fightqueen @heesunghooney @starl0ver4 @jooniesbears-blog @k1arar3 @riri-lvs-food @kolawnk @mitmit01 @dummyf @tender-is-the-moon @dksfml @tobiosbbyghorl @loveydoveyez @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @hhyvsstuff @moondooll @enchantedtomeetyou @desistay @filmofhybe

If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch 3

“For good service, and cute waitresses”

pairing: premilitary!jk x secret fuckbuddy! oc

contents: mild language, no smut (yet), fluff, humour, celeb au, very mild angst, slowburn </3

wc: 6k

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: if anyone wants to join pls comment!!

a/n: this fic is going so much better than id thought it would! i love it and cant wait to progress. Nari’s might also come across as mean, but know its in a best friend way and she truly does love oc. ENJOY MY LOVES <3 p.s, all interactions are much appreciated, pls dont be afraid to let me know what you think:)

masterlist | < previous | next >

You find yourself back at Nari’s apartment. These days, it’s the only place you feel like going to. Your own place feeling like a lost cause- clothes piling up, draped over your desk chair you could’ve sworn you cleaned up last week, dishes in the sink that you could’ve sworn you’d washed yesterday. Work has been exhausting, and when you’re not caught up in the bustle of the diner, you’re busy running errands and keeping up with side hobbies, using them as an excuse to avoid everything else.

At least at Nari’s, things feel a little less overwhelming, and it’s easier to forget everything else.

And Nari doesn’t mind, she’d never mind.

She’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of wine, her free hand lazily scrolling through her phone. Her TV hums in the background, playing some trashy reality show neither of you are actually watching. You’re curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the throw pillow in your lap.

You’ve been quiet for way too long, and though you are a quiet person by nature. It’s never been truly quiet with you around Nari.

And Nari notices. Of course she does.

It’s not past a second before she side eyes you over her glass, pausing mid scroll. “Alright” She says, pushing off the counter. “What’s going on with you?”

You blink up at her. “Huh?”

“You look like you just got caught committing a crime,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Spit it out.”

You shake your head quickly. “It’s nothing.”

Nari stares at you for a second longer, then sighs, putting her phone down on the counter. She’s walking over, the heels of her socks dragging slightly against the floor, and plops down next to you, pressing her shoulder against yours.

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the pillow. The words are there, right at the tip of your tongue, but saying them out loud makes it feel too real.

Nari doesn’t give you the chance to stall any longer. She sets her phone down and walks over, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’ve been sitting there looking like you’re about to have a breakdown for the past twenty minutes,” she says. “Either you tell me what’s going on, or I start guessing, and you know I have no filter.”

You exhale sharply. “It’s not that serious.”

Nari just stares. “Yeah, okay. So why do you look like you’re about to throw up?”

You press your lips together, debating whether you should even bring it up. It’s stupid. It really is. But the anxiety has been eating away at you since he did it, and if anyone’s going to tell you if you’re being ridiculous, it’s Nari.

You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and pull out a small, crumpled piece of paper. For a second, you just hold it between your fingers, staring at it like it as if that would make it disappear. Then, finally, you place it on the coffee table between you and Nari.

She frowns. “What’s that?”

You swallow. “Jungkook left me his number.”

There’s a beat of silence. Nari blinks. Then she blinks again, leaning forward to get a better look at the paper, like she needs to confirm that you’re not messing with her.

“Wait—Jungkook?”

You nod, heart hammering against your ribs.

“As in the Jungkook?” You nod again, looking at her as if to say: yeah Nari, who else?

Nari lets out a sharp breath, eyes darting between you and the paper. “And you’re telling me this now?” She takes the paper from your hand “Saturday?! Seriously? It’s been 2 days and you’re only telling me now?” She whines, smacking your arm lightly.

You shrug, biting your lip, not trusting yourself to say anything.

Nari stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “And what exactly is the problem here? Did you text him? Has he shown up to the diner again?”

You bite your lip. “What if it’s a joke?”

Her expression drops into something unimpressed. “What?”

“What if I actually message him, and he laughs in my face? What if this is just some silly game?” You cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably. “Imagine I actually text him, and it turns out he just left it to mess with me.”

Nari looks at you like you just suggested jumping into oncoming traffic for fun. “Are you stupid?”

You blink. “Yes! What- No. Ugh! I dont know?”

“Why the hell would he give you a fake number? Celebrities don’t just do that.” She picks up the paper, waving it in your face. “And Jungkook? He doesn’t seem like the type to waste his time playing games.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” she cuts you off. “I saw the way he was looking at you. That man is not out here giving his number to random women for fun.” She shakes her head. “And even if it was a joke—which it isn’t—you’d at least know. Right now, you’re just sitting here torturing yourself over something you haven’t even done yet.”

You press your lips together, stomach flipping. “I don’t know, Nari.”

“I do know.” She leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “And at the very least, now you can get a heads-up before he randomly shows up again and you dont have to shit your pants every time he does.”

You let out a laugh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, but you saw what happened last time…”

Nari rolls her eyes. “Listen I get that- Crazy fans and shit? Not it, but you could be missing out on something big here.” She shrugs, taking a slow sip of her wine, like this isn’t making your entire brain short-circuit. “Worst case scenario? He doesn’t respond. Best case scenario? Well.” She smirks. “I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.”

You stare at the number again, nerves buzzing under your skin.

Fuck it.

Your fingers twitch as you pick up your phone, opening your messages. You hesitate, heart in your throat.

The phone sits between you and Nari on the couch, untouched. You haven’t stopped staring at it since she made you unlock it, since she made you pull up Jungkook’s number and prove to her that it’s really there. His name isn’t saved, obviously—you’re not that delusional—but it’s there. Sitting at the top of your recents, right where you left it.

And you hate that it’s there.

Nari sighs. “Alright, I literally can’t take another second of this. Either you text him, or I’m throwing your phone out the fucking window.”

Your body jerks up immediately. “I can’t text him.”

She looks at you like you’ve personally offended her. “Yes, you can.”

“No, I actually can’t.” You grab a pillow and shove your face into it. “You do it.”

A scoff. “What? No.”

“Nari, please.” Your voice is muffled, desperate. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

“You literally will,” she deadpans. “Probably within the next hour.”

“I’m serious.” You peek at her from over the pillow. “Please, just send the first message.”

“You’re being ridiculous. He wouldn’t have given you his number if he didn’t want you to use it.”

“Or maybe he gave it to me as a joke.”

She groans, standing up and dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my fucking God. What is wrong with you?”

“If I message him, and he laughs at me, I’m never leaving this apartment again.”

She rolls her eyes, dropping back onto the couch beside you. “Yeah, because Jungkook has nothing better to do than sit around and make fun of random girls.”

“Exactly.”

Nari grabs your arm, shaking you. “You’re so stupid.”

You let out a strangled sound as she shakes harder, knocking you against the couch cushions. “Nari, stop—”

“No, because you’re actually so stupid. I saw the way he was looking at you.”

You groan extra loud.

Nari shoves you again, this time hard enough that you almost fall sideways. “You are so dramatic.”

“Okay, then you message him,” you whine, turning back to her with wide, pleading eyes. “Please. Just send one text, and then I’ll take over.”

She groans, leaning her head back against the couch. “Fine. But I’m not doing ‘Hi, this is YN.’ That’s lame.”

You nod immediately. “Yeah, no, that’s boring.”

She thinks for a second, then smirks. “What if we go with, ‘Hey, soldier, miss me?’”

You push her. “Stop.”

Nari just laughs. “Or, ooh!—‘I heard boys like you love discipline, so I waited a respectable amount of time before texting. 😉’”

“Im deleting his number.”

“You love me.”

“I don’t.”

She hums, tapping your phone screen. “Okay, what about this: ‘I promise I’m not a stalker, but I did just spend the past two days debating if this was actually your number.’”

You hesitate. “…Okay- Yeah, that’s actually kinda good.”

“Duh.” She types it out and, before you can stop her, presses send.

Your stomach drops. “Nari, what the fuck.”

She throws the phone onto your lap with a smug grin. “Too late.”

You gape at the screen, heart pounding as the message sits there. And keeps sitting there.

Jungkook doesn’t reply immediately.

Which—of course he doesn’t. He’s busy. He’s literally Jungkook. He’s probably off training or singing or whatever idols do in their free time.

Still.

You groan, throwing your head back. “This was a mistake.”

Beside you, Nari pats your head like a disapproving mother. “No, I made a mistake. I should’ve sent, ‘Hey, kookie~, miss me?’”

You nudge her away. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You kind of do. But now, you’re stuck waiting for a reply.

And it’s already driving you insane.

—

Hours pass.

You and Nari don’t do much of anything—just exist in the same space, like always. The TV plays some random drama you’ve both seen a hundred times before, voices droning on in the background while you scroll through your phone and Nari flips through a magazine she doesn’t actually care about. The comfort of it is familiar, easy. This is why you come here. Why her apartment is the only place you really want to be these days.

But none of it stops your eyes from flicking back to your phone every two minutes.

Still nothing.

Nari notices. Of course, she does.

“Y/n.” She doesn’t even look up from her magazine. “Get it the fuck together.”

You huff. “I am together.”

“No, you’re not.” She turns a page, unimpressed. “You look like you’re waiting for an organ transplant.”

You make a face, shifting to sit on your hands so you physically can’t reach for your phone again. “I just—I don’t get why he hasn’t replied yet.”

“Because he’s Jungkook?” Nari deadpans. “You know, worldwide superstar, busy man, famous guy? Maybe, just maybe, he has other shit to do?”

You grumble, kicking at her leg. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “What if he’s ignoring me?”

Nari groans. “Oh my God. I literally cannot do this with you right now.” She tosses the magazine onto the coffee table and sits up, jabbing a finger at you. “This is what we’re not gonna do, okay? We’re not gonna sit here and spiral. We’re not gonna create insane scenarios in our head. And we’re definitely not gonna act like Jungkook is some high school jock plotting to humiliate you in front of the whole cafeteria.”

You glare at her. “That was a very specific example.”

She shrugs. “I read a lot of Wattpad in my youth.”

“As you should.”

“Anyway.” She leans back, stretching her arms over her head. “Since you clearly can’t function like a normal person right now, I’m declaring a ban on all Jungkook-related thoughts for the next few hours.”

“You can’t ban thoughts.”

“I can in this household.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue. Mostly because she’s right—this whole thing is driving you insane, and if you don’t stop obsessing over it, you’re going to lose your mind before Jungkook even gets a chance to reply.

So, you let it go. Or at least, you try to.

The night continues as it always does. You and Nari switch to watching trashy reality TV, taking turns talking shit about people you don’t know. You fight over the last slice of pizza, which Nari wins, but only because she threatens to lock you out of the apartment. You don’t think she’d actually do it, but you’re not willing to take the risk.

Time slips by unnoticed, and before you know it, the sky outside the window has darkened completely.

“You sleeping over?” Nari asks, stretching her legs across the couch.

You blink at her like she’s just asked something stupid. “Of course, I am. What do you think?”

She smirks. “Good. I was gonna make you stay even if you said no.”

You laugh, throwing a pillow at her. She dodges easily, flipping you off in the process.

And then—your phone buzzes.

Your whole body goes still.

Nari notices immediately, eyes snapping to your phone, and then to you.

“Oh my god,” she says slowly. “Tell me that’s who I think it is.”

You don’t answer. Just stare at the screen like it might disappear if you blink.

Another buzz.

Nari lunges forward, but you snatch the phone before she can grab it. Your hands are shaking.

She bounces impatiently beside you. “Well? Open it!”

Swallowing thickly, you finally unlock the screen.

[ iMessage:]

Unknown Number: Took you long enough.

Unknown Number: Was starting to think you weren’t interested.

You just stare. Your stomach does a weird little flip, your heart picking up speed.

Nari, practically vibrating beside you, grabs your arm. “WHAT DOES IT SAY!?”

You lift your head slowly, meeting her gaze with wide, horrified eyes.

“He’s flirting with me-“

Nari screams.

And just like that, everything is chaos again.

Your brain short-circuits.

Your hands tighten around your phone, fingers pressing into the edges like you’re afraid it might jump out of your grasp. Your breathing is uneven, and you’re pretty sure your heart is going to give out right here, on Nari’s couch, before you even get the chance to respond.

Nari grabs your wrist, shaking you violently. “WHAT THE FUCK?! REPLY.”

“I CAN’T.” You clutch the phone to your chest like it’s some kind of secret government file, eyes blown wide in panic. “OH MY GOD, WHAT DO I EVEN SAY?”

Nari looks at you like you’ve just spoken in an ancient language. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT DO YOU SAY? YOU SAY SOMETHING BACK. LITERALLY ANYTHING.”

“No, no, no, I—” You shake your head frantically, scrambling up onto your knees as if somehow getting higher up will help you think better. “If I reply too fast, it’s gonna look desperate.”

Nari throws her hands up. “Desperate for what? A conversation? Bitch, this is not high school! We are adults. We do not play fucking mind games over text like we’re waiting for our crush to message us back like we’re 15!”

You press your palms over your face, groaning into them. “Oh my God, what if this is a joke? What if he’s messing with me? What if—”

“WHAT IF HE’S NOT?” Nari yells, shoving at your shoulder. “What if he actually fucking likes you, you absolute dumbass?”

You glare at her, shoving her back. “DON’T CALL ME A DUMBASS, I’M HAVING A CRISIS.”

“IT’S A STUPID CRISIS.”

The two of you wrestle on the couch for a second, limbs flying, before she overpowers you and shoves you back into the cushions. You huff, staring up at the ceiling, trying to steady your heartbeat.

A few deep breaths. Then another. Okay. You’re fine. You’re cool.

You roll your head to the side, looking at Nari. “What do I say?”

She stares at you, completely done. “You say, ‘Hey, this is me responding to your text message.’”

You groan, throwing an arm over your face. “Be serious.”

“I am being serious.” She snatches your phone right out of your grip, dodging your grabby hands as she holds it above her head. “Look. You’re overthinking. You don’t have to send an essay, just flirt back.”

You peek at her through your arm. “How?”

“Oh my God.” She sighs dramatically, shifting so she’s sitting on her knees beside you. “Okay, let’s workshop this. He said, ‘Took you long enough. Was starting to think you weren’t interested.’” She pauses. “Ooh, that’s kinda sexy.”

“SHUT UP.”

“I’m just saying.”

You groan again, kicking your legs in frustration. “I hate this. Why am I like this? I should just block him.”

Nari slaps your thigh so hard you yelp.

“YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING.”

You whimper. “Fine. Just—help me.”

She grins, shuffling closer. “Okay. So, we’re going for playful, yeah? Something that keeps the same energy.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Like, oh? You were waiting for me? That’s kinda cute.”

Your entire body recoils. “EW, no, that sounds so corny.”

She cackles. “Okay, okay. What about, ‘Oh, were you hoping I’d text first? That’s adorable.’”

You blink. “Ugh why are you so good at this?”

“I know.” She flips her hair dramatically. “I am the queen of texting.”

You shake your head, snatching your phone back. “Fine. I’ll say something like that.”

“Good.” She pats your knee. “Now send it.”

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Your pulse pounds in your ears. You type the message. Delete it. Type it again. Delete it again. At this point, you’re just spamming letters on your keyboard.

“Nari,” you whisper.

She groans. “What now?”

“…Can you send it for me?”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

You flinch at the volume of her voice. “But—”

“No buts.” She glares at you, unimpressed. “Send it. Now.”

You hesitate for one more agonizing second. And then, taking a deep breath, you hit send.

You both freeze, staring at the screen like it might explode.

The message sits there. Marked as delivered. Silent.

You toss your phone across the couch and bury your face in a pillow.

Nari gasps. “Bitch, what are you doing?”

“I CAN’T LOOK.”

“Oh my God.” She lunges for the phone. “What if he replies? What if he—”

Buzz.

Your whole body seizes up.

Nari screams.

You scream.

Neither of you move.

Buzz.

Another message.

You shoot up so fast your vision goes blurry, scrambling for your phone. Nari practically jumps onto your back, gripping your shoulders as she shrieks into your ear.

You unlock the screen, heart pounding, pulse hammering against your ribs. And then—

[ iMessage:]

Unknown number: Adorable? That’s a new one. You trying to flirt with me?

Your soul leaves your body.

Nari shrieks. “OH MY FUCKING GOD.”

You smack her. She smacks you back. You both devolve into incoherent screaming, kicking your legs and shaking each other like wild animals.

And somewhere in the chaos, it finally sinks in.

Jungkook is flirting back.

This is real.

What the fuck do you do now?

You’re still gripping your phone like it’s a lifeline, staring at Jungkook’s message like the words might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.

Your brain is malfunctioning. Your hands are clammy. Your heart rate is somewhere near cardiac arrest levels.

“Nari,” you whisper, voice shaky. “What do I say?”

Nari, who has just spent the last five minutes screaming and shaking you like a maraca, suddenly changes tactics. She plops back against the couch, crossing her arms. “Nothing.”

You blink. “What?”

“Nothing,” she repeats, grabbing the remote and flipping through Netflix. “Let him wait.”

Your whole body jolts. “WAIT?”

“Yes.” She leans back smugly. “We’re watching a show. You’ll text him in the morning.”

You gape at her, horrified. “No. No, no, no, please—”

“Yes.”

“Nari, please!” You grab her arm, shaking her dramatically. “I will literally die. My soul will leave my body.”

“Okay, good,” she says, deadpan. “Then I’ll text Jungkook myself and tell him his little admirer died of thirst.”

You let out a strangled noise, throwing yourself back against the couch. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” She pats your knee like you’re a distressed child. “And you asked for my advice, so now you’re gonna take it. No texting until morning. Let him wonder.”

You stare at her, betrayed. “This is evil.”

She shrugs, putting on some random drama. “Welcome to the game, bitch.”

You sulk for a few more minutes, checking your phone every five seconds like a lovesick fool before Nari finally yanks it out of your hands and tosses it across the room.

“BED,” she orders, standing up. “Now.”

You groan but eventually drag yourself to your feet, trudging to her bedroom like a prisoner on death row. When you finally get under the covers, you let out a heavy sigh.

“This is torture.”

Nari snickers, turning off the light. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You highly doubt that.

—

The next morning, you wake up feeling… slightly less insane. Only slightly.

Nari is still dead to the world when you roll out of bed, stretching with a groan. You grab your phone off the nightstand and check your notifications.

No new messages from Jungkook.

You stare at the screen for a moment, heart sinking slightly. Not that you expected him to double-text you or anything, but still.

Shaking off the disappointment, you tiptoe out of Nari’s apartment and head home. It’s a busy day—you’ve got errands to run, places to be, things to do. You get caught up in it all for a while, hopping from one task to the next.

And then—

Buzz.

[ iMessage ]

Unknown number: So, am I getting a response, or did you decide flirting with me was a one-time thing?

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Thank you so much for the part 2 of the shapeshifter AU! 🙏 The atmosphere is so singularly spooky and sultry. Keep up the great work!

on it boss!!

70 / 1.6k / part 3 of shapeshifter familiars!141 tormenting witch!reader

...

You wait until the early evening. It's the earliest you can run. Your so-called familiars won't come out while the sky is still bright. Even so, the moon’s faint sliver stands faintly visible against the sky. You pack your things and fetch your traveling cloak. Vital components. Your dagger. Scrying parchment. You've survived on less.

Something catches your eye as you open the door. The setting sun gleams off the little glass vial on your hearth. You grab it. It's the thing Soap left—what he was teasing you about; the "little treat" he brought back. You see now what it is: black henbane. Your heart beats faster. Out of anger or anticipation—you're not sure which wins out. You'll certainly make use of this. But it will be despite your demons. Not because of them.

As you set off to leave, though, you find yourself face-to-face with a different threat altogether: townsfolk with torches and pitchforks.

The mob's torches flicker, casting jagged shadows across their grim faces. Their leader, a broad-shouldered blacksmith with soot-stained hands, steps forward. The pitchfork trembles in his harsh grip. "Off to consort with devils, witch?"

Behind him, a farmer's wife spits at your feet. "My boy hasn't slept since your cursed raven perched on our roof! You sent those monsters to torment us!"

A ripple of agreement surges through the crowd. You catch the glint of silver amulets around their throats—crude charms of rowan berries and iron nails. Your designs.

"I don't want any trouble," you tell them. You already intend to leave this place forever; all you need to do is convince them to let you go in peace. "I swear it. I condemn the demons that plague the village just as you do."

The blacksmith's shout cracks like a whip. "Liar!" He thrusts his pitchfork toward your cottage and the crow feathers littering the threshold. "Found your nest o' nightmares. Bones under the floorboards. Charms written in your hand guidin' those beasts!"

A teenage boy hurls a rock. It grazes your temple with a thump that rings in your skull. "She fed my sister to the black dog! Saw its yellow eyes in her window the night she vanished!"

Then a torch arcs through the dusk. It crashes against your doorframe, tallow and embers cascading onto dry thatch. The farmer's wife screams, "Burn the hellspawn out!"

Other voices roar in agreement. The mob surges forward as one. Their amulets glow faintly as they near your wards, rowan countering rowan.

You slam the door shut, scattering glowing red hay, and bolt for the back door instead. You flee toward the forest. Warm blood slides down your face and trickles into your collar. You crash through the tree line. Brambles tear your cloak. Torchlight dances between birches behind you. They’re gaining.

"Kill her before she calls the beasts!" one voice shrieks.

Another voice, a child’s, cries, “There! By the elder tree!”

Your boot catches on its massive roots. You hit the forest floor hard. Pine needles stick to your bleeding palms as you scramble up—and freeze.

Yellow eyes blink open in the shadows ahead. A wolf.

The blacksmith’s heavy gait clatters to a halt. “Christ preserve us.”

The hound steps into the fading daylight, scars rippling across its muscular flank. Ghost. He bares teeth longer than your fingers.

You back away only for another shadow to fall from the trees above and land next to you soundlessly. The shape is feline—Gaz—but he's no longer the size of a housecat. He's as massive as a tiger. A growl thunders through him. He levels his gaze past you. At the villagers. They don't stand a chance.

You whirl back on the villagers with wild eyes. "Get out of here!" you cry at the mob.

The blacksmith shoves a trembling boy behind him. "Back! Back to the—"

Ghost lunges. Not at the villagers. At you.

His jaws snap inches from your thigh, herding you backward into Gaz's flank. Gaz pins you with one paw on your chest. He keeps his claws sheathed, but the pressure is enough to bruise. His rumbling purr vibrates through your ribs as he licks blood from your temple wound.

"Demons!" A villager hurls a torch. It bounces off Ghost's shoulder. Embers catch in his fur. He doesn't flinch.

Soap's cawing laughter rings from the treetops. He drops down as a raven, shifting mid-fall into human form. He lands in a crouch. "Och, look at these brave lads! Come to play with the big bad devils."

The blacksmith thrusts the pitchfork at him. "Back!"

 Soap catches the shaft and yanks the smith forward. "Careful now. You'll poke someone's—" He drives the smith’s own weapon through his boot, impaling foot to soil. "—eyes out."

Screams erupt. The mob fractures. Some flee. Others stand frozen.

"No, don't hurt them!" you gasp out. You try to push out from under Gaz's paw, but it does you no good. "Leave them alone!"

Gaz's purr deepens into a predatory rumble as he drags his rough tongue up the side of your neck to taste your sweat. His hot breath stirs your hair when he growls, "Too late for mercy, love. Smell the fear on 'em? Ripe as summer fruit."

Soap wrenches the pitchfork free from the smith’s screaming form, flicking gore off the tines. "Aye, let's make it a proper feast! Been ages since we had fresh meat that fought back."

"Enough."

Price's voice cracks through the woods like thunder. He stands under the pines’ shadow as if waiting for the last motes of sunset to vanish before he ventures out.

"You lot should've heeded the warnings. Salt your thresholds. Avoid the woods after dark." His gazes pauses over a young child frozen in fear, no parents in sight. He tuts. "But you meddled. Stole from my witch. Harmed her."

The blacksmith finds his voice. "W-We didn't—"

Price steps forward. His boot crushes the smith’s bloodied foot into the ground. Bones pop. "See, that's the trouble with mortals." He crouches to stare into the terrified villager’s face. "You don’t admit you’re wrong."

"Price, please, just take me instead," you plead. "I'm what you came for, aren't I?"

Price's gaze snaps to you. He rises slowly. The flicker of your burning cottage on the horizon behind you reflects in his eyes and makes them glow. His expression tells you how little choice you have in that particular matter. Where you go, they go.

Then he looks past you. “Gaz."

Gaz’s hand slides up your inner thigh. "Already on it."

"No. Save the foreplay. We've got a village to raze." He grabs the bloodied collar of your cloak and hauls you to your feet. "You'll watch. Then we'll discuss your ungrateful actions." His gaze flicks away. "Ghost. Gaz. Clean up."

You can only watch Ghost and Gaz bound into the screaming mob. Your body feels lighter than the air. Then you remember the weight of the henbane in your cloak pocket. The next moment, it's in your hand. You crush the glass, ignoring the stab of pain. You send it sailing through the air, and it lands right on its mark—the roaring torch discarded in the leaf litter.

The henbane catches and wafts up into the air as smoke. It curls upward in thick, narcotic tendrils. The smell is heady, its effect potent and immediate. Soap snarls as the first plume hits his nostrils. He staggers back and clutches his head. Gaz convulses mid-pounce, collapsing into ferns as his tiger-like form shrinks to housecat size. Ghost whines low in his throat and shakes his massive skull like a dog with water in its ears.

Chaos erupts. Villagers seize the chance to bolt. The blacksmith drags his wailing son toward the tree line.

Price grips your arm hard enough to leave talon marks. His other hand clamps over his nose, veins bulging in his temple. You cough into your sleeve. Your vision swims. Henbane's poison works both ways, after all. It’s powerful for those who know how to use it for their own ends. Black henbane is what you used to summon your familiars and what bound them to you. But its hallucinatory effects are more pronounced on those who have surrendered the greater part of their souls to magic—or for those whose bodies are already flush with it. Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap don’t stand a chance. Even your soul is so considerably marked by witchcraft that you quickly fold to its effects. But you, at least, can twist it and warp it to weave a spell that might protect you.

Cloaked in smoke, you transform.

The shift hits you like a lightning strike—bones crackling, muscles twisting, vision narrowing into a something wide and preylike. The forest tilts, and suddenly Price's grip is gone. He holds your sleeve, but not you. You slip away, tumble through your limp clothes, and hit the forest floor on four paws. The world sharpens into smells of damp moss and wolf musk. Your rabbit heart hammers against ribs as thin as wishbones.

You dart left--straight into Gaz's waiting claws. The tomcat pins you with a paw, purring as his claws prick your scruff. Then he sneezes, henbane pollen glinting in his whiskers. You writhe free.

You race deeper into the forest with the wind at your back. The woods close in, but thorns no longer claw your clothes; roots no longer trip you. You are no longer an intruder. The forest itself turns toward you, opens to you. Thorns tug pleasurably against your fur as you bound past. Old magic stirs beneath your rabbit feet.

"Clever girl. Find her." Price's voice slithers through the trees far behind you, syllables slurred but venom intact. "And keep her whole enough to scream."

...

← part 2 / [part 3] / part 4 ➡

more Price / more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / masterlist

[thehydraethereal]

FRIGHTENING NEW WORLD

WE DRANK LOYALTY IN VINES...

...BUT YOURS TURNED TO BLOOD IN MY MOUTH.

⇀ word count: 1.1 K

⇀ pairings: dark! Sam Wilson x reader | dark! Bucky Barnes x reader (implied) | Joaquin Torres x reader | ✶✶✶

⇀ warnings: dark dark dark content, 18+ MDNI | violence; power imbalance; phsychological horror; blood: restraints; threats; mentions of rape; mentions of domestic violence; mentions of forced infertility; dacryphilia; swear words, my work is dark and triggering. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

⇀ author's note: i've finished this in ONE sitting, wow. I loved CABNW and this occured in my mind as soon as I finished watching it. Reblogs, comments, and more REQUESTS are appreciated. BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |

⇁ tags: my soul sister @highonmarvel xxx | If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know. I love you all so so much! Thank you for reading!

Oaxaca, Mexico

You had never believed that the sun might shine over you again, but here you were, strolling peacefully through the bustling market, a woven basket nestled in the crook of your arm, its handle tangled in your fingers. Your gaze lingered on the ripe, sun-kissed fruit— apricots, blushing peaches, nectarines, and ruby-red strawberries—while the air swelled with their honeyed fragrance, laced with the mellow sweetness of…plums.

Even after almost one year, the scent rose stripes of terror up your spine, and whenever you saw their blue–burgundy color, the broken ribs, the slaps, the punches, even his gaze flooded your mind altogether.

The anxiety attacks were fewer, shorter and less frightening every week, but your previous life still lingered in the back of your head. The wounds were long healed, but small scars were visible here and there—up your arms towards your shoulders, on your thighs, littlest ones on the crook of your neck and up your jaw and one people were…not able to see. After he took your freedom, broke your will, terrorized you even of your own shadow, he took your right and your ability of…ever having a family of your own. Your pained gaze often fell upon children around your house, in the village and it was like his reminder that said ‘I did this to you. You’ll never have one of your own.’, and it always made you turn your head away from them nauseously.

You never thought you'd be able to flee James Barnes, you thought it was impossible and it truly was. But some divine force must have helped you gain the bravery you never knew was inside you, and guided you all the way here, in this forgotten speck on the map.

The bells of the wide church —the only major social point in the town, situated right next to the market— rang loudly, in an oddly comforting way and you inhaled deeply as you adjusted the long skirts of your summer dress.

A loud explosion interrupted your beautiful life, and you fell on the road. Dust, mud and pulp of crushed, rotten fruit from the ground stained your new dress and you let out a broken sob when you also saw blood on your palms. Small cuts lingered on the raw skin, and you struggled to get up. The freshly bought fruit were long forgotten in the dirt as you looked disorientated around and your teary eyes caught a pair of coal black ones.

Your heart leapt out of your ribcage when you remembered the face. Sam Wilson, a shadow from your past, was James’ best friend. His eyes glinted when he recognized you. He was like a falcon—you never doubted his superhero name—and you were most afraid to hide away from him back then when you ran.

You never got the chance to see the smirk that planted on his face because of how swift you turned your head away, somehow pleading to the divine force to help you again and make him forget your features. But a man about your age already got his orders about you.

Joaquin Torres furrowed his brows in confusion when he heard Captain America's orders.

"So let me get this straight— you want me to gather all the bad guys and jus' throw them in the cars myself, man? Are-are you sure 'bout this?", the young man asked, looking around him.

"Do you think you can handle them?", came the voice from the other side of the phone to which Joaquin nodded vigorously to himself, then replied affirmatively and maybe too excitedly.

"Good, we'll meet at the agreed location in short time. I—", finished the older man, looking at the tiny, cozy cottage before his eyes, "—have some business to take care of."

You were stuffing clothing items in a bag with one hand and with the other you were looking through the bedside cabinet for your passport and cash. Tears ran down your face ever since you arrived home from the market and you simply couldn't stop them, despite the will to do so.

You zipped up the bag and you pulled on a pair of clean shorts and a large tee with leafy hands and then you climbed down the stairs. Regret, anger, fear, all these ate at you.

"It's good to see you again, honeybee!"

You almost stumbled across the last stair when the words hit you. Your lungs were rejecting the oxygen as more tears fell when your eyes caught the ones you knew so well.

His hands were carelessly caressing the chair before him, his gaze sticked on your trembling figure.

"You know, I really hoped to catch a glimpse of the pretty sight standing in front of me now earlier, it would've spared my pal of much suffering."

"Suffering?", you whispered, finding the voice under all the bitterness in your throat. "H-he suffered? He was the one t-that suffered?"

"Oh, and how he did. He refused to eat the week you left, he barely slept for months, he spent millions on men, private detectives, all types of shit just to find you. I also highly doubt he fucked since you decided to disappear into thin air."

Your face contorted into a disgusted grimace as you took a small step back.

"Honeybee—", Sam growled as he started approaching you, "—I'd reallyyy like to give you a nice, lil' chance to get the fuck outta this house and go back with me, but I'm afraid you lost that right looong ago."

You couldn't even resist when his rough, confident grip fell over your freshly healed wrists, and when you felt your back pressed into his broad, sculpted chest, a whimper escaped your lips.

Sam bent you on the counter and your face fell into the flowers you picked from your garden in the morning and you tried to block everything, simply not wanting to believe this was happening. You really believed you would be free and at peace, protected and joyful for the rest of your life. How pathetic and far away those hopes sounded. Scratchy plastic secured your hands together as Sam grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up against him again. He knocked the door open with his foot and started pulling you out of your comforting shelter.

"Sam, I am begging you, don't t-take me back to him, pleaseeee.", you started crying as he forced you outside your home. "You can't d-do this t-to me, Sam, you can't! Y-you were my...my friend, too."

Sam slapped his palm across your mouth to muffle the screams, or maybe to stop the words that made him feel so guilty from coming. "I am James' friend, not yours. My loyalty is his, and everything you've done hurt him. Now it's jus' fair you suffer too, ain't it?". These words hurt more than anything he did until now. Sam knew what Bucky did, he had seen the bruises, he had heard the cries, yet he had done nothing against it. And maybe that unsettled you, but now? Now he was forcing you into the wolf's fangs, and it felt completely different.

Your lost eyes caught one of your neighbors, Ms. Solís , at the window. Another whimper escaped you pleadingly, directed to her, but she did not dare to do anything. Nobody ever did.

Your knees buckled under your own weight, and you collapsed in the dust despite Sam's grip. You heard him scowl and his hand came to the back of your shirt. He gripped it and pulled you up against his body again. You sobbed and you tried to elbow him but Sam was swifter. He caught your tied limbs and grasped. "Fuckin' walk, bitch. Bucky would want to teach you to behave first, but I don't mind starting myself right now, you hear me?". The threat made you cry harder and when Sam gripped your arms even harsher you nodded weakly. What Sam was doing to you felt like a short training considering what would wait for you back in New York.

A black SUV was parked there, behind some wide Madrone bushes. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might just burst right there. You hoped that, if you were to be honest.

"S-sam, just know th-that if you're taking me back....he'll k-kill me—", you tried calling Sam's mercy out one last time. He just turned his head away, letting your words fall into the abyss of desperation and nothingness.

A younger man peeked from behind the vehicle. His smile dropped when he saw your trembling form. His eyes darted from the blood on your chin to your restrained and bruised arms. Hair was cascading over your face and your lower lip trembled as you fought with yourself to stop the sobs and whimpers. Joaquin thought you were so beautiful. So, why were you here in this state?

"Whoa, man, what's happening? What did she do?" Joaquin started, coming closer to you with raised hands, showing you you don't have to be afraid of him. You still flinched when his caring hands came in contact with your pained limbs.

"Leave her as she is, Joaquin...", said Sam and you looked desperately at the man your age. He furrowed his brows and looked at his superior. "B-but—"

"You wanna be the next Falcon, don't you?" Sam asked, patting the younger man on the shoulder.

"Yes, of course I do!"

"Then—", Sam started again, looking into the boys' eyes, "—you gotta learn to close your eyes at certain things. These are the stories media don't care about, you hear me? The majority of people get saved, everybody's happy, but you should know there are...collateral victims. And she's one of 'em. Now, buddy, if you really wanna be an Avenger...put her in the car."

Joaquin took a big step back, accidentally bumping into you. He quickly caught you, preventing your body from falling again, and then looked back at Sam, which raised his brows and his hands, as if he was giving Joaquin an offer he couldn't refuse. And Joaquin didn't refuse it.

He opened the car door and he tried to carefully place you in the backseat. " 'm sorry, so sorry...", he mumbled as he gave you the pill Sam told him to. "This'll help ya sleep, okay?"

"P-please, please help me—', you cried, looking into his regretful eyes as he forced the drug past your lips.

"Shh, shhh...you'll be jus' fine, 'kay? Be good now, please—".

You knew you will be anything but fine. Sam and Joaquin both entered the car and as Joaquin was starting it, Sam dialed a number and put the phone on speaker.

"Buck, I think I've found somethin' that's yours, buddy. And you'll be really thrilled to see it...", Sam laughed, smirking at you in the reviewing mirror.

The quietness that followed the sentence was short, but dense.

"Hello, doll...", came the voice from the other side of the phone, and its maliciousness and calmness made your whole body shiver. He knew you were there. He was sure of it somehow. You felt his presence right there, in Sam's deeds, in the dark sky, in your rapid, choked sobs, in your heavy lids.

That fucking nickname wrote right then, right there the end of your world and marked the beginning of the Frightening New World.

[supernaturallyedsheeran]

Under my Skin

Summary: You’ve been possessed by a demon, trapped in your own body, forced to watch as it manipulates your every move and set on tearing you apart. With the Winchesters help, you fight to reclaim control before the demon can fulfill its dark plan, knowing that saving you may come at a price no one is prepared to pay.

cw : fem!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied non consensual intercourse, angst, injury, no use of y/n characters Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, f!reader wc: 3795 fandom: Supernatural

✧∘* ✧･ﾟ✨Masterlist ✨✧∘* ✧･ﾟ

You were in your body; you could feel the heat of your own skin, the touch of your hair sweeping on your back and shoulders as you walked; an insatiable itch on your shoulder you couldn't reach. But your stride wasn't yours. The way you looked hungrily at the men passing you wasn't how you looked at people. The way you licked your lips was too fierce. They way you stood wasn't your stance. You were in your body - but you weren't in control.

You don't remember how you got possessed but here you were, a passenger in your own body, as some compelling demonic presence controlled your every step, word and movement. Had it been days? Weeks? The demon had kept you awake for it all. The killings. The betrayals. The meetings with other demons, escaping the Winchesters grasps as they tracked you. But you still couldn't make out how long you'd actually been possessed.

You knew Sam and Dean were looking for you - you knew Castiel was with them - but you didn't know how close they were or when they'd save you. All you knew is your Demon was hell bent on fulfilling an idilic Demonic dream land to get every Demon a vessel - and the best way was via electricity. You were walking through a gravel parking lot - a satellite station surrounded by chain link fences, and barbed wire, to keep out hooligans and thieves - but your body was neither of these, as the Demon inside you easily tore open the chain link fence, and continued walking towards the door NO ENTRY - AUTHORIZATION BY PERMIT ONLY.

You chucked. A heavy thick laugh at the sign - clearly the demon had no interest in waiting around ... the plan was to get into this building, infect the wires and spread every available demon to a human vessel.

Your hand gripped the metal on the door - cold, and rough, and you threw it open as you stepped inside a dark room, buzzing and humming with electricity. You could see few small blinking lights in the endless dark room of wires but before you could step further inside - "HEY!" A voice boomed from behind you - your heart sank, but raced at the same time Dean

You whirled around, to see him standing at the door you just walked through, knife in hand. He'd found you - you were saved. "You really want to take the chance to ruin this pretty little vessel Winchester?" The demon barked in your voice. Your lips curled into a cruel smile. You knew he wouldn't hurt you - but if it was the only way to get the demon out, he had no other choice.

"Who said I'm taking chances?" He winked, his green eyes glinting in the darkness - wrinkles around his eyes - a smile spreading on his lips. Just then you felt a soft breeze of air to your left tickling your neck and sending strands of hair across your face - you caught glimpse of a tan trench coat just before feeling fingers gently placed on your forehead, and blacking out.

__

You awake to a familiar smell prickling your nostrils; gunpowder and concrete - the air dense, and damp - almost choking you to breathe. A fan far above you in the ceiling made a soft thump thump thump as it rotated desperately trying to circulate the air. The demon in you looked around - shelves of dusty boxes, within them, years of lore and spells. Your wrists and ankles were bound to a wooden chair you sat upon, creaking and tinkling as the demon moved your body within the chains. On the floor, painted in red, a demons trap. The bunker.

For sure you felt safe now - the Winchesters had rescued you and only an exorcism lay ahead and you'd be free to fall back into Sam - Sam.

You thought of him - your boyfriend...when was the last time you saw him? What was the last thing you said to him? You tried to scream for him - but the demon snickered. "You have no control, even if I'm trapped" It hissed quietly to you, looking around the room for a faulty wire or anything sharp to scratch away at your bonds.

The door to the cellar opened.

Sam, Dean and Castiel walked in. Cas hung back as the door closed again - his hands by his side, with his angel blade at the ready. Dean and Sam slowly walked forward, careful not to tread on the red paint, holding your body in its spot.

"Who are you." Dean spoke - gruff. His brows knitted in annoyance and anger, his eyes piercing your very soul. You stared back, hoping your helplessness shone through, but full well knowing he saw your body and black demon eyes before him.

"Whoever you want me to be." The demon flirted back, your voice making Sam shift behind Dean. Sam...His eyes were hiding nothing - he was hurt. Confused - he saw his girlfriend before him, but it wasn't you. The way you sat, relaxed in the chair, legs sprawled open, back resting on the chair, and fingers playing with the wood. The way you bit your lip at his brother and replied to him in that way - this was not Sam's girl.

"Let's cut to the chase." You start - eyes flipping between Sam, Dean and Castiel. "My original position was at the crossroads. So," Your body leans forward from the hard chair, the chains tightening and burning your wrists as the demon sits forward. "I can offer you a deal, and then make my way outta here onto the next person." Your body shifts back again into the chair, your shoulders pushed back to expose your chest more. Peacocking. This demon is trying to seduce Dean. Seriously? You thought.

"No." Dean didn't move. His arms crossed against his chest, demon blade glinting in the shafts of light that dusted the cellar from above. "You get out of her, or you die."

Sam's jaw flexed. His breath hitched as his eyes darted between you, tied up in front of him, and his brother beside him.

"Well, if that's the case ---" The demon trailed off. You felt your head snap to the side aggressively. The sound of water in your ears, and crackling down your neck as your head slowly returned to face the brothers. "I just snapped my own neck - oops." The demon cackled, feigning innocence. "If you exorcise me now, poor little lady here won't be alive by the time I exit her." You felt your chest heave as a hearty laugh ripped from your lips- your body shaking with excitement and fear.

Sam went to step forward, his brother put a hand on his chest, shaking his head. "What do you want." Dean said, staring at his brother, but the question to the demon hung heavy in the air - dripping with anger and cautious curiosity.

"What I said before." You sighed breathily, shifting again in the chair. "Let me out as a free Demon, and she lives. Simple."

Dean turned around, grabbing his brother by his shirt at his chest and walked him away from you. You wanted to cry - watching them leave. You wanted to cry knowing you were already dead. The boys whispered angrily back and forth, Sam running his hands through his hair - he looked so helpless when he turned to look at your. His brows creased, lips twitching trying to hold back anger, and sadness. Dean shook his head at Sam, turned around and said something to Cas. Cas nodded, and returned his gaze to you. All three men were now staring at you. An angel - his face inscrutable. Dean - his jaw flexing, eyes stabbing through the veil of Demon and into your soul. Sam - Hurt and sad, overjoyed you were home but aching to touch you and hold you.

Dean walked forward again to be close to the you, again careful to not tread into the trap painted on the cement.

"Fine. I assume as crossroads demon, we need to seal the deal." His hard eyes unchanged, staring down at you, his chest heaving as he breathed.

"Oh see, a tiny snag." you quip back. "Kisses to seal a deal are only for ... mmm ... the lower class crossroad demons...I need a little somethig ... extra." Your body moved without your notion, sitting up straight, crossing your legs and pushing out your chest.

"No. No way." Sam spoke up from the back of the room, closing the distance between him and his brother in so few strides. "No i wont let you. Dean?" He pleaded to his brother. Sam showed no inkling of heroism at this point - he was too determined to protect what little control you had over your body. His essence bled innocence and upset.

"Sam." Dean cocked his head to his brother, body still facing you. "Can Sam complete this deal?" He asked the demon digusted.

The demon cackled. "Oh I'm sure she'd prefer that...why don't we ask her?" Suddenly it felt like you'd been in a car crash. Your bones ached, your neck painful with every movement. Tears immediately sprung from your eyes, hot and flushing your cheeks. "Sam!" You cried - your voice harsh and cracking. The demon had given you control of your body only momentarily. "Sam please do whatever you have to, get it out of me!" You pled, leaning forward in the chair, trying to get as close to him as you could. In an instant Sam was on his knees in front of you, cupping your face wildfire in his eyes. "Are you sure?" He said, his brown eyes searching your face, scrutinizing the dirt, and your hair, knowing this was you - your entirety felt different. "Please --" You began to say but your head thrust backwards out of Sam's grasp and snapped forwards again into his face. You felt the wall go up again - like you were put underwater. "Just a reminder, for the remainder of this flight, all passengers will die if someone doesn't pilot this body." A smirk spread across your face as your tongue whipped across your lips right in front of Sam. He stood up, taken aback and slowly shuffled backwards beside his brother. "However, since I am in control and I absolutely love this little story you two have going on" You continued, staring at Sam "I much prefer a bulky build and bowed legs to ... well, a tall thinman." You said looking Dean up and down with malicious intent.

Sam whirled around, unable to look at you anymore - his hands on his head, shaking in disagreement but knowing full well what was going to happen.

Dean just stood, statuesque, cemented to the spot. "If I do this..." He started, stepping closer to the you in the chair "You promise me you leave her immediately." You snapped up again to a straight position in the chair "Aye aye cap'n!" You mocked.

__

After an argument behind closed doors, Dean had come back to the cellar to release your body. He put on demon proof cuffs and un chained you from the chair. He didn't look at you as he did so - he purely worked. As you walked down the hall with Dean trailing behind you - you noticed how silent the bunker was - the usual trill of old music and pages flipping coming from the library was replaced by a metallic humming of the switchboard. There were barely any lights on and the entire place felt soulless. You continued to walk - or the demon made you walk - towards Deans room. You lived here - it felt wrong that the demon knew where to guide your body since you knew where his room was. You crossed the threshold of his room and you panicked. You knew what was coming, but seeing the room and knowing what was about to happen set off all the alarm bells in your mind. You tried to scream, tried to take control - but you watched as your body sat at the edge of Dean's bed, and felt as a sly smile creeped around your lips. "Oh she is absolutely losing her shit right now" The demon mocked Dean as he stood on the other side of the room, debating his choices.

"Shut the hell up." He murmured back. He caught your eye and for a moment you thought he could see through the demon to you - he looked pitiful - desperate and apologetic in one quick look. He shook his and ran his hands over his face. "I'm so sorry." He made his way across the room closer to your face, your heart bursting through your chest - you didn't want this, but you knew you'd be freed - but at what cost? He was apologizing for what was about to happen.

Dean apologized so many times you'd lost count through the affair. You felt him remove your jeans, the cold air clinging to your skin as he cradled your body against the mattress. Your voice screamed out in joy as he grunted disgusted and angry. You cried. The demon laughed. You screamed. The demon moaned.

You were in and out of the veil as the act unravelled - partially because the demon was enjoying it too much to remember to keep you awake and torture you in this way, and partially because you were so mentally exhausted you couldn't keep up.

__

Your body lay limp on the bed. The demon huffing and breathing, satisfied, pushing hair out of your face with your chained hands. Dean ignored you - or the demon...at this point you couldn't tell which. He helped you re dress and left you sitting on the bed while he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

You were numb. Your body, felt nothing as you weren't in control. You stared through everything that your demon looked at. You just existed.

Sam encroached on the door, pushing it open gently. His face, expressionless, his body stiff and standing tall as he saw you sitting on the bed, upright, chest up and smiling excessively.

He cleared his throat "It's done. Get out." He demanded, in a low quiet tone.

"Oh I might have forgotten one thing." You pursed your lips and chuckled - again you felt the wall crumble as the Demon let you take control.

"Sam my ne---" tears welled in your eyes as you started to speak, but the black mist exited your mouth and found its way into the vents and out of the bunker. Your entire body went numb, your ears ringing sharply as you began to slip from the bed - Sam had closed the distance between you and caught your body before it fell to the floor in a heap.

__

Sam stood from across his room, your body laid peacefully on his bed. Your hair cascading down your shoulders and your chest - your hands crossed delicately on your abdomen. He just stared at your body - cold and quiet - his hands trembling but unbeknownst to him.

The boys had a fight on how they could have missed agreeing to a deal where your neck had been snapped - Dean tried to take the fault saying he had made the deal so it wasn't Sam's fault. Sam had tried to take the blame saying he shouldn't have let you out of his sight in the first place.

Castiel hung around quietly, irking his head to the side as he looked down on your body. While the boys argued, Cas had touched his fingers to your forehead - mending your neck and rendering you whole again. But something had stuck around and you were in a deep state of unconscious.

It had only been a few hours since Cas had healed you - but as time went by, the silence filled the cool bunker and Dean decided to take Sam on a supply run, leaving Cas in charge.

Your toes and fingers felt icy cold. You furrowed your brows in frustration that your arms were heavy and you couldn't move but an inch at a time. Your eyes fluttered open - your head turning heavily to the side to see Castiel in the room staring at you blankly.

"Welcome back." He said in a rough tone - a small smile playing at his lips...a sad smile broke through as he strode towards you placing his warm hands on your head. "How do you feel." He asked - the way he asked questions felt more like statements but you smiled bleakly at his warmth.

"Cold." You replied, as you tried to sit up - Cas watched your struggle - he still wasn't un-angel enough to know when to help so he just stood and watched as you fought to sit at the edge of the bed.

"Little help Cas" You prompted. He wrapped an arm around your waist, the other grabbing your wrist around his shoulders for support. "I'd like to shower please." Cas nodded and said nothing as he helped.

It was comforting to have Cas around - it felt normal and peaceful as he helped you step out of your clothes, steadying you as he did so. He had the decency to turn around after unclasping your bra, letting you undress the rest of the way while he left the bathroom.

"I'll be just outside." He mentioned to the floor as he left the room

"Thanks, Cas." You replied grateful.

The hot water dropped like pebbles against a lake, drumming your back and easing your muscles tense state. The steam felt purifying as it rose to cloud the bathroom and lift the tender load off your mind making your head feel lighter. You stood there for what felt like hours - bracing one hand against the dark tile, the other massaging your neck, refusing to believe just hours ago it had been split and you were dead.

The water fell in streams down your face and neck, pooling on your collarbones before swelling over and continuing its pathway down your chest, stomach and thighs.

Your ears rang less now, but still so after your body had been through that much ... Cas could cure pain and fix shattered bones but he had no ability to squelch the after effects of a broken mind.

The taps squeaked gently as you turned them off and the shower gently slowed to a stop. Again you stood for a while, embracing the warmth before opening the shower door and letting the steam out.

You wrapped a towel around your body, letting the cooler air stick to your skin, as your hair draped across you, dripping in wetness only to be absorbed by the towel around your chest.

The bathroom door creaked open a smidge and a familiar voice fell into the room.

"Do you require assistance?" Cas questioned into the room.

You smiled at his attempt to be human and caring "Yes please."

--

After Cas had helped you slip into a clean pair of jeans and brought you a button up shirt you slipped on some socks and your boots It looked like something you would wear after coitus with Sam he quipped after you said it was Sam's shirt not yours. You smiled a weak smile - but a real one at his remark. You threw on the dark green corduroy button up Cas had brought you and rolled up the sleeves, tucking it in halfway in your jeans. You towel dried your hair so it was no longer dripping, but still mostly wet.

Cas walked slowly with you to the kitchen, his hands hovering close to your body in case you waivered. You sat on the barstool, solid, firm- not too comfy but definitely safe. Your body felt at home. He offered you a glass of water which you sipped on as he slipped away to the library to continue work. You hadn't realized how dry your throat had been until you took the first sip - the cool liquid sliding down your throat and spreading through your chest - you chugged the rest and then rested your head on the metal table, gathering your thoughts.

--

You had drifted off into a dreamless sleep there on the metal table - your body too tired to shift, so it sat there completely still in a deep slumber until a warm hand caressed your lower back, slowly pulling you out of your sleep.

You hadn't heard the front door of the bunker clamber and screech open - nor had you heard the boys thunderous footsteps thump down the metal stairs. You hadn't even heard Dean chuckle at the sight of you passed out on the counter while he unloaded groceries, or a large sigh of relief Sam let out when he laid eyes on you.

"Hey" He had crouched to be beside you, rubbing your back and pushing the hair out of your face as you lifted your head. "Sam?" Eyes fluttering open you didn't give him a chance to answer before you thrust your body sideways off the stool and into his embrace. His hands wrapped around your torso tightly, burrowing his head in your neck and shoulder standing up fully and letting you lay your weight into him. Your hands felt his familiar flannel as you tightly balled your fists on his chest grasping his shirt pulling him nearer to you, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. You stood there a while, shuddering breaths as you had no tears left to cry - he hushed you as you did so, his own tears staining your shoulder. "I got you." He whispered. Before long he separated, pulling apart just to look at your face - to look in your eyes to make sure they were yours and yours only. He smiled, a real smile.

He pushed your hair back, exposing your neck, his fingers trailing down it and touching the collar of his corduroy shirt on your body.

His brows furrowed, his lips in a tight smile "This ... this is my shirt?" He chucked lightly

"Cas..." You spoke, laughing through a shuddered breath. Sam nodded in agreement, smiling and shaking his head. "Cas." He agreed.

From across the kitchen, as you were preoccupied with Sam, Dean watched on. No smile appeared on his worn stubbled face, just clenched teeth and a stare that could open a door to hell. He fiddled with the can of soup in his hands before shaking his head and drawing his attention back to finishing packing away the groceries. He was lost in a rough sea of emotion and thought. Concern for how you were healing. Awkwardness for how his brother might react around him, after what Dean had to do to save you. Guilt, for what he did to you. Confusion, on how he was falling for you.

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | An Unexpected Invitation | Chapter Two

Summary: Riley Carter never expected much from a simple text asking if she liked food, but Joe Burrow's direct approach catches her off guard in the best way. Between late nights at Electric Lady Studios finishing her band's new album and her growing anticipation for their first real date, Riley finds herself drawn to the NFL quarterback's refreshing authenticity. After a messy public breakup left her wary of relationships, especially with someone in the spotlight, she's surprised by her willingness to break her own rules for Joe. As their text exchanges and late-night calls deepen their connection, Riley faces a decision: maintain the careful distance she's built around her heart, or take a chance on someone new.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 3.2k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, flirty banter, mentions of past toxic relationships, public scrutiny, and undeniable chemistry.

This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me! 💕

Requests: Open

Author’s Note: Here we go! Sorry its late. This chapter is all about setting the foundation for Joe and Riley’s dynamic—playful, unexpected, and just a little bit risky. I love writing those early moments where two people click without fully realizing what they’re getting into. Their chemistry is building, and things are definitely about to get interesting. Let me know what you think! 😊💛

Riley stared at her phone, thumb hovering over the screen as she read Joe's message again.

Joe QB🏈: Do you like food?

A laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. Was this his idea of a smooth opener? It was so direct, so oddly simple, that she couldn't help but find it endearing. She'd had guys slide into her DMs with carefully crafted messages, obviously rehearsed lines, and pretentious attempts at intellectual conversation. But "Do you like food?" That was new.

She tapped out a response, deliberately matching his directness with a hint of playfulness.

Riley 🎤: Yes, QB. I like food. Love it, actually. I'm always down for a nice meal.

She hit send and set her phone down on the kitchen counter of her rented NYC apartment, turning her attention back to the coffee brewing in front of her. The rich aroma filled the small space, mingling with the distant wail of sirens and the perpetual hum of the city that filtered through her half-open window. She was only in the city for another week—just long enough to finish the studio sessions for her band's new album before heading back to LA for meetings with their label. She wasn't expecting a quick response—the guy probably had a rigorous schedule with his sponsor events and appearances while he was in town. But barely thirty seconds later, her phone buzzed.

Joe QB🏈: Alright then, wanna come over Friday night? I'll cook you dinner.

Riley nearly choked on her coffee. Well, that was unexpected. Not the invitation itself—she'd had plenty of those—but the casual confidence behind it. No "maybe we could" or "if you're free sometime." Just a straightforward invitation to his place, with the added detail that he'd be cooking. It struck her as both presumptuous and refreshing.

She hesitated, finger hovering over the keyboard. The sensible response would be to suggest a restaurant instead—something public, neutral, safe. That's what her publicist would advise. Hell, that's what she would advise any of her friends. Never go to a guy's place for a first date.

But then again, this wasn't exactly a normal situation. They'd already met on national television. He'd already admitted to having a crush on her in front of millions of viewers. And something about his straightforward approach intrigued her.

Riley 🎤: You're telling me Joe Burrow can cook?

His reply came almost instantly.

Joe QB🏈: Don't sound so surprised. I can follow a recipe.

She grinned, shaking her head at his confidence.

Riley 🎤: Guess we'll see if they're as good as your QB skills.

Setting down her phone, Riley leaned against the kitchen counter and took another sip of her coffee, a strange flutter of anticipation settling in her stomach. She'd just agreed to a date—was it a date?—with Joe Burrow. The same Joe Burrow who'd turned bright red on The Tonight Show when she'd walked out. The same Joe Burrow who'd kissed her cheek and asked for her number with that endearing mix of confidence and nervousness.

It had only been a few days since The Tonight Show, but Riley's life already felt a little... different. Not dramatically so—she was still working with her bandmates on their new album, still navigating the busy recording schedule, still trying to make the most of their limited time in NYC. But there was something new weaving its way through the familiar rhythms of her life: the constant presence of Joe Burrow in her text messages.

She wasn't sure what had possessed her to say yes to his casual "I'll cook you dinner" text, but here she was, letting him monopolize her phone in the best way possible. What started as a simple exchange about food turned into hours of texting—playful, funny, and way too easy.

Each notification from him sent a little jolt of anticipation through her system—a feeling she hadn't experienced in years. Maybe it was the novelty of it all. Or maybe it was just him.

She liked his sense of humor. It wasn't forced or over the top; it was subtle, the kind of humor that made her laugh without even realizing she was smiling. And he paid attention. He actually asked her questions, remembered things she'd told him, and sent follow-up texts that felt genuine rather than perfunctory.

Like yesterday, when she'd mentioned in passing that she was trying to cut back on caffeine, and twelve hours later, he'd texted to ask how the caffeine withdrawal was going. It was such a small thing, but so few people actually listened to the details.

Joe Burrow was nothing like she'd expected.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected. Most athletes she'd encountered at industry events or award shows had come across as cocky—all swagger and practiced charm, their public personas polished to a shine. But Joe seemed different. He texted like a normal person—sometimes with perfect grammar, sometimes with abbreviations, occasionally with a meme that made no sense out of context but somehow made her laugh anyway.

There was something steady about him that settled her, a calm confidence that never veered into arrogance. In an industry where she was constantly surrounded by big personalities and bigger egos, his groundedness felt like stepping into a quiet room after hours in a crowded club.

And maybe that was why she didn't slam on the brakes like she normally would have. Why she was willing to consider having dinner at his place rather than insisting on a public restaurant with an escape route.

With a sigh, Riley set her empty coffee mug in the sink and headed to the studio. She had work to do, and she couldn't spend the entire morning analyzing text messages like a teenager. But as she settled in front of her keyboard, her phone buzzed again.

Joe QB🏈: What are you up to tonight?

She smiled, typing back quickly.

Riley 🎤: At Electric Lady. Long night ahead.

The response was immediate.

Joe QB🏈: What's Electric Lady?

Riley stared at the screen, momentarily taken aback. Was he serious? Electric Lady was legendary—practically hallowed ground for musicians. But then again, not everyone lived in her world, did they?

Riley 🎤: You're kidding.

Joe QB🏈: I'm not.

She shook her head, smiling despite herself. There was something endearing about his willingness to admit he didn't know something.

Riley 🎤: It's only one of the most iconic recording studios in NYC. Hendrix built it. Bowie recorded there. Springsteen, Patti Smith, The Clash... Do I need to keep going?

Joe QB🏈: Alright, alright. I get it. Sounds cool.

Riley snorted. "Sounds cool." As if she'd mentioned a trendy new coffee shop rather than one of the most significant musical landmarks in the city.

Riley 🎤: Cool doesn't even begin to cover it. It's my happy place when I'm in the city. Something about the history in those walls... it's like you can feel it when you're creating there.

There was a pause before his next message—longer than his previous replies had been.

Joe QB🏈: You sound like you're working late a lot this week.

The observation surprised her. Most people—especially people she'd just met—didn't notice or comment on her schedule unless she explicitly mentioned being tired or busy.

Riley 🎤: Yes, we are on a roll. We're finishing the bridge on this new track that's giving us hell. It's either going to be the best thing on the album or drive us all insane before we get it right.

She set her phone down, turning her attention to the keyboard in front of her. Her fingers drifted across the keys, finding the melody that had been haunting her for days—an insistent, driving sequence that contrasted with the vulnerability of the lyrics she'd been working on. It was the kind of song that would have their fans holding up lighters at shows, a perfect arena anthem with just enough raw emotion to make it personal.

But her mind kept drifting back to their conversation. To the way he actually seemed to care about what she was doing, not just when she'd be free to see him.

The rest of the week followed a similar pattern. When she wasn't at Electric Lady, she was either catching up on sleep or texting Joe. It was quickly becoming her favorite way to wind down after her long nights in the studio.

In the back of a sleek black Escalade, Manhattan's lights refracting through rain-streaked windows, her phone lit up with his name. Not a text this time—a call. She hesitated for only a second before answering.

"Isn't it past your bedtime, Burrow?" she teased, leaning back against the leather seat.

A low chuckle filled her ear. "Probably. But I figured you'd still be up."

"Good guess," she replied, watching the city lights blur past her window. "Just heading back to my place from the studio."

"How's the mysterious project going?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

This was what continued to surprise her about Joe. He was curious about her work, and unlike other people who would ask about her career out of politeness, Joe actually seemed interested in the details. It threw her off at first. She wasn't used to someone wanting to know her, not just the version of her that showed up on red carpets and album covers.

"It's going well," she said, more openly than she might have with someone else. "Today was mostly vocal tracking—the less glamorous part where I sing the same line fifty times until it's perfect."

"Sounds exhausting," Joe commented.

"It can be. But there's something satisfying about getting it exactly right. The guys are patient, though. Andy, our drummer, is practically a saint when it comes to vocal sessions. Nick keeps us laughing even when we're ready to kill each other over a single note."

"I get that," he said, and she could hear the understanding in his voice. "It's like when we run the same play over and over in practice. Looks boring from the outside, but there's something about the repetition, the precision..."

"Exactly," Riley said, surprised by how well he seemed to understand. "Different fields, same principle. The pursuit of that perfect execution where everything just clicks."

There was a comfortable pause before Joe spoke again. "So, we still on for tomorrow? Or are you going to be too wiped from your late nights?"

She smiled into the darkness of the car. "I'll be there. Seven o'clock, right?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I've already started prepping some things."

"Wow, taking this seriously, huh?" she teased.

"Can't have America's dream girl thinking I can't cook, can I?"

Riley groaned at the reference to the media nickname that had stuck after their Tonight Show appearance. "Please don't call me that."

Joe laughed, the sound warm and rich through the phone. "Sorry. Couldn't resist."

"Uh-huh. I'm hanging up now," she said, though there was no bite to her words.

"Goodnight, Riley," he said, his voice softening.

"Goodnight, Joe," she replied, ending the call with a smile lingering on her lips.

The car pulled up to her building, rain now falling in earnest. As she dashed inside, nodding to the night doorman, she realized she was actually looking forward to tomorrow night in a way she hadn't anticipated. There was something about Joe's direct approach, his genuine interest, his unexpected moments of vulnerability that made her want to know more.

Their calls had quickly developed a rhythm of their own. Late at night, her phone would light up just as she was finishing at the studio.

Their conversations rarely lasted more than ten minutes, but she found herself looking forward to them—this small, consistent connection across the miles between their separate worlds.

But as much as she was enjoying their easy back-and-forth, a part of her couldn't help but hesitate. A part of her kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the easy conversations to turn complicated, for the red flags to appear, for the inevitable letdown.

Her last relationship had left scars she hadn't realized were still there. Her ex—another musician, a guitarist whose talent was matched only by his volatility—had been part of her life for far too long. They'd spent years in an on-again, off-again cycle that was as exhausting as it was destructive. The kind of relationship that burned so hot it left everything around it in ashes, including the early days of her band when they were just starting to gain traction.

The breakup had been messy, the kind that made headlines and left her name plastered all over the tabloids. Paparazzi outside her house, speculative articles about who had cheated on whom, invasive questions in interviews that were supposed to be about her band's music. Her personal life dissected on social media by people who knew nothing about the actual relationship.

She still remembered the sting of the public fallout. The embarrassment. The frustration of people weighing in on something they knew nothing about. The way strangers felt entitled to judge her decisions, her emotions, her life.

After finally walking away for good, she'd sworn off relationships entirely. Not just publicly, but privately as well. She'd made a promise to herself: no more losing herself in someone else's orbit, no more putting her needs second, no more drama that derailed her creative focus.

She'd thrown herself into her career, traveled the world alone, and learned how to be happy without needing someone else to fill the gaps. And for the most part, it had worked. She'd become someone she was proud of, someone she didn't think she could've been if she hadn't taken time for herself.

The band's latest album—the one that had catapulted them from indie darlings to mainstream recognition—had emerged from that period of self-discovery. Their sound had evolved into something more powerfully honest, with electric guitar-driven anthems balanced by moments of intimate vulnerability. Critics had praised their ability to blend raw emotional lyrics with radio-ready hooks, and fans had responded to that authenticity in droves.

She still remembered the moment they realized things had changed for good—a sold-out show in London where the entire crowd sang their lyrics back to them so loudly that she'd had to step away from the mic, overwhelmed by the wall of sound. The guys had looked at her with the same stunned expression, all of them realizing simultaneously that they'd crossed some invisible threshold.

After a year of being single, Riley had found a comfortable rhythm in her independence. She'd learned what she actually wanted: someone who would respect her work while still making her feel cherished. Someone who understood her world without trying to dominate it. Despite the walls she'd built during her recovery from that toxic relationship, she was ready to open herself up again—just cautiously, and on her own terms.

So when Joe Burrow appeared with his straightforward texts and genuine interest, she found herself intrigued in a way she hadn't expected. There was something refreshing about his approach, something that made her curious enough to say yes to dinner at his place despite all her usual rules.

The truth was, she wasn't sure she was ready for anything serious, especially given their careers and geographical distance. But for the first time in a long while, she was willing to at least explore the possibility.

Friday morning arrived with unexpected anxiety. Riley found herself second-guessing her decision to go to Joe's place, wondering if she should text to suggest a restaurant instead. But before she could overthink it further, her phone rang.

Riley was still in bed when her phone buzzed, Joe's name lighting up the screen. She groaned softly, pulling the blanket over her head before answering.

"Hello?" Her voice was still husky with sleep.

"Morning, Riley," Joe said, his voice light and teasing. "Just checking to make sure we're still on for tonight."

She rolled onto her back, blinking up at the ceiling as she smirked. "Why are you calling me so early, Burrow? Don't you know I like to sleep late?"

"Early?" Joe laughed, and she could practically hear the grin in his voice. "It's eleven."

"Exactly. Early," she quipped, running a hand through her tangled hair. "I told you I like to sleep late, especially after a long night at the studio."

Joe chuckled on the other end of the line, the sound warm and relaxed. "Guess I'll have to keep that in mind. But I needed to make sure you weren't backing out on me."

There was something in his tone—a hint of vulnerability beneath the confident teasing—that made her heart soften a little. As if despite all his self-assurance, he genuinely wasn't sure she'd show up. It was those glimpses of real person behind the quarterback that kept drawing her in.

She rolled onto her side, smiling to herself. "Not a chance. I'm looking forward to tonight."

Joe's voice was playful when he responded. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she admitted easily, surprising herself with her own honesty. "You say you're cooking a meal for me. That's really sweet. I can't wait to see what you come up with."

"Just a heads-up to manage your expectations," Joe said, a touch of self-deprecation in his voice that she found oddly charming. "We're not talking culinary genius here."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. What time do you want me there?" Riley asked, sitting up and pushing the blankets aside. Sunlight streamed through the gap in her curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the still air.

"Seven," he said without hesitation, as if he'd had the time planned all along.

"Perfect," she said, already mentally planning what she was going to wear. Something casual but flattering. Something that said "I made an effort" without screaming "I spent three hours getting ready for you."

She had a busy day ahead—a final vocal session, then a meeting with their manager about the upcoming tour schedule. The album wouldn't be out for months, but they needed to lock in venues for the fall tour now. Eleven cities in fourteen days, starting on the East Coast and working their way west. The thought of the grueling schedule would normally make her anxious, but today it seemed manageable. A problem for future Riley.

There was a brief pause before he added, his voice warm with amusement, "Do I need to send you a calendar invite so you don't forget?"

Riley laughed, the sound more carefree than she'd felt in a while. "I'll be there, Burrow. Don't worry—I wouldn't miss this."

Joe chuckled. "Good. I'll see you tonight then."

"See you tonight," she echoed, ending the call and dropping her phone onto the mattress beside her.

She exhaled, staring at the ceiling for a moment, a strange mix of anticipation and nerves swirling in her stomach. This wasn't just some guy she'd matched with on a dating app. This was Joe Burrow. NFL quarterback. Someone who lived as much in the public eye as she did, whose career came with its own unique pressures and scrutiny. Someone who seemed like he might actually understand her world in a way few others could.

But more than that, this was someone who made her laugh, who paid attention, who showed genuine interest in her life beyond the glamorous surface. Someone who didn't seem intimidated by her success or intent on competing with it.

A slow smile tugged at her lips as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had a date to prepare for.

Yeah. She was definitely looking forward to this.

[midnight---hollow]

Im probably gonna go into more detail on this in the future but its been tisming in my mind and i cant draw rn cus im waiting for my new drawing tablet so imma just drop this know and maybe sketch some cute designs when i can

So ive been think of after nrc cus i saw abunch of cute fanart of azul and floyd (weirdly not much of jade) and i started thinking of what my interpretation of after nrc would be and here are my thoughts

This includes abunch if my own headcanons but i try to stay close to the actual game and my hcs are based off of ingame quotes and implications

Jade 100% is gonna be the twin to take over the family business. I think jade and floyd would have equal power but floyds not gonna help unless he feels like it leading jade to do most of the work. Im my version of the coral sea the leech family owns the largest territory in the deep sea area so most days would be doing daily care for it and bossing people. I do think he would work extremely close to azul but that will be talked apon in azuls bit

Floyd is floyd. He does what he wants and goes where he wants. He helps jade then he gets bored and annoys azul. He disappears for a week and hes traveled the world in that time span and learned how to do the cha cha slide. He is literally floyd he can do and be whatever he wants though usually thats around azul cus azul is azul

I love mafia aus with octivenelle they are so good so yummy i eat that shit up, but in trying to keep this more ingame logical based and not completely biased (its still heavily biased) i dont think after book 3 azul would make a mafia. There is a quiet but still present shift in how azul handles business before and after book 3. We literally see him tear his own contracts in glomas and while yes he is very stingy and smart and conniving, he is not like how he once was.

This might be silly but its my favorite idea and makes me giggle and kick me feet alot. I like the idea of azul just buying an island and making his own tourism town from the ground up. There is a mostro lounge x his moms restaurant collab there, a classic tourism dock, a club owned by the leech family, and those cool shop towns. I imagine there would be shady back deals (hed build it in the leech family’s territory) but i think the general idea of it is more genuine with a bonus of fish mafia black market if it should so be. Idk i like the idea of him making something that ties humanity (the thing he clings to since its probably still a bitch hard for him to truly be comfortable in his mer form) with his merside (something he loves but was ruined for him because of the bullying). Maybe its cheesy but i really like the idea of it

Like i said the island would be build in the leech territory. I dont think they are gonna split up, i dont think im being delusional because i hold them all close to heart no i think they are all oblivious liars, they can not fool me with the “well drop him so fast” shit if that was the case they would have dropped him when he overblotted or threw his tantrum or during his dream. The twins are not the type of people to give three chances to someone azul is just built different in their eyes and i think they would still stew and plan together cus you know azul cares for them and wants them to stay. You heard the “floyd jade! You came back to me” these are some of the only people to give him a chance and show him affection (even if they 100% made him worse) they are sticking together.

In my other post i mentioned how i think the leech family business would be about giving into your desires based on how the twins both act, i think they would run a casino and or club on the island. Its a way to siphon money in their pockets, pour unfortunate souls who just need a bit more money to azul (who would still do contracts obviously just not as crazily impossible to win against as before) and entertainment for them. I think a successful tourist island would kinda be like a flex on the other territories because not that many have proper human connections. Its a power boost and the start of potential more leech family properties in the future if it takes off well.

Bonus round is my oc veeyuu (im prob changing the name but it makes me laugh which is why i havent yet). They would continue to stay by azuls side. Even with the contract being destroyed back in book three and veeyuus debt to the ashengrottos being paid off, they wouldnt want to leave him. I think they would work on the island with the more brighter peaceful side of things, helping shop owners, bringing in tourists, maybe even making their own crafts and pastries to sell though they would be bad at the money aspect of owning a business. They give azul all of the information he needs from around the island and doesnt mind getting their hands dirty again but i think veeyuu enjoys finally being at peace

These are just my thoughts from today cus it’s become my obsession immediately. I need to rework it and rethink it and make sure its accurate but thats my take and i want to draw them how I think they would look in 10 years to cus it makes me happy and i think jade would go a bit more punk and vee would have a cute hat and floyd would have tattoos and azul would have a more peaceful face. No more tightened eyebrows (he has them when floyd comes back from his trips)

[no1-tvgirlfan]

Kicking my feet

Wow tell us about the prominent ships in your ballet au

Oh hello tumblr user , Phopollo , absolutely i will answer your question.

so the most prominent ones are quidrogen and prusty , greasedinah and leccywatt are floating around in the back somewhere and theres a lot of others (it’s a ballet company , everyones made out with everyone a little)

quidrogen is the one i have the most for so lemme yap about that now. so as a dancer tassita’s always somewhat more feminine , and he can even dance on pointe which is traditionally only done by women. he very desperately would like to be cast for a female role but is yet to have the chance to do so.

hydra hears that tassita is auditioning for the female lead in the show and of course , being a stupid lover boy who wants an excuse to kiss him , auditions for the male lead.

pearl ends up being cast as the female lead and hydra is cast as the male lead.

hydra struggles to have chemistry with pearl when they’re dancing together and tassita helps him rehearse because hes a pretty little ballerina at heart and he could sooo do the female parts. also is very light and easy to lift so he’s a good substitute for pearl. lots of tension and lots of almost kisses when theyre rehearsing.

THEY DO EVENTUALLY KISS IN REHEARSALS and its all so awww wowowow gay people i love them!

something something , closing night hydra runs off stage after kissing pearl to go make out with his boyfriend and porter hands lumber ten dollars

tee hee

[trekkerac]

the only thing that will get me back into sonic full force is a good sonic adventure remake

[mossterunderthebed]

[scattered-winter]

every day i kick a rock and bash my head into the wall because i'll never get to go on a big space adventure and become tightly close-knit with my new found family up there <//3

[blue-eli]

Realised it’s @khoc-week so even though I don’t have the energy to do it daily have this I did a while ago but never posted.

Arxeht my beloved. They came to me in a dream where I was a replica (of multiple people but looked most like Vidar) made by apprentice Nort/Xemnas, who was the fifteenth member of the organisation and also had my knowledge of hit video games Kingdom Hearts and kept getting randomly thrown through space and time.