#this is why i continue history as a hobby
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delta-piscium · 2 months ago
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can not believe i draw a whole sketch and as if that isn’t enough, to color it, i have to figure out light sources and shadows, cruel and unusual punishment
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gr1mstar · 9 months ago
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I'm a huge Dark romance book girlie
So can you write LDS boys finding out what she was reading like they had no idea reader has a fascination with dark romance books with psychotic ml or villains
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I'M BETTER `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹
note. i'm also a huge fan of darl romance books so i had fun writing this. thank you for your request love. also, i'm sorry for the wait, i hope you like it.
contains. love and deepspace boys x reader, fluff, sfw.
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ZAYNE
you both had this hobby of reading, so it wasn't strange when zayne found you on the sofa in the living room of your apartment, reading a new book.
the only difference between you was that zayne read books related to medicine and history, while you liked to read romance books. zayne knew that you weren't into history or medicine, so he didn't bother to explain in detail what he read, but he was more satisfied listening to you complain that the two protagonists are stupid that they don't see that they love each other others.
at least zayne liked listening to your stories until they disappeared. suddenly, you started not telling him anything.
so curiously, when you put the book down to go drink a glass of water from the kitchen, he took the book you were reading at the moment, wanting to see what makes you stop sharing the plot of the story.
after some time, making your way back to the living room and seeing zayne with the book in his hand, his face red and a shocked expression on his face, you started to laugh subtly.
"what is it? what's with that expression?"
speechless, zayne puts the book down, moving closer to you.
"to understand that this is how you want me to be too?" he said, placing his hands on either side of your waist.
"what?"
"to talk to you like this… to tie you to the bed with something and make you stop walking the next day? to be crazy about you? what do you say?"
XAVIER
seeing you blushing in front of the book you were reading, xavier couldn't help but ask you what you were reading.
"ah, just a romance book." was your answer, returning to reading, the blush on your cheeks not disappearing.
not satisfied with the answer, xavier sighs and sits back with his head in your lap. thinking that he had nothing to lose, in a second the book you were reading now was in xavier's hands, his eyes on the lines you had just read.
"what is this?" he asked, flipping through a few pages and then looking at the cover. a smile appeared on his face. "do you like this stuff?" he continued, handing you the book back.
you didn't answer now the blush in your cheeks being much more obvious than before, your gaze moving down, avoiding his.
"i understand that you like antagonists more than heroes, right? someone obsessed with you?" xavier said, approaching you with big steps, now being a few millimeters away from you. bending down, his face was directly in front of yours, and with the help of a hand he forced you to look at him, grabbing your chin and turning your head.
"you're lucky, princess. i can be mean sometimes, but you have to take responsibility for it."
RAFAYEL
rafayel never understood what you like so much about books. it is a fictional story, with a fictional person. why waste your time reading about them when you have him, alive and very sexy, in front of you.
this, out of curiosity, he tried to read one day, when he had no painting to complete.
getting into bed, with a cup of coffee 'for energy', he started reading the last book you recommended, not expecting what would happen next.
the hours passed quickly, and in the middle of the book Rafayel lay down, looking at the time in wonder. the whole day had passed, and all he had done was read.
"i lived to see this too." he heard, immediately seeing that it was you at the door. "are you reading?" you asked, laying down on the bed next to him.
"let's say. i was curious why you like it so much." Rafael answered, leaving the book on the bedside table and taking you in his arms.
"and did you like it?"
he didn't say anything, taking his face into the crack between your shoulder and neck, inhaling the aroma of your body. he didn't want to admit that he liked the book, being too ashamed to tell you that now he understood why you liked it.
"so you like it." you said, laughing lightly.
"no. I'm better."
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© 2024 gr1mstar — all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, repost, translate, or claim my content as yours.
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lacunafiction · 1 year ago
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This art of Davor is absolutely stunning! Those intricate tattoos, the delicious angst with A, and how only his Bee can call him Dove. 🕊 🥰
The Fernweh Saga by @lacunafiction - Davor edition
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I-I think Ms. Verner doesn't like him...😳
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Davor "Dove" Kovač 🐝 RO: Becca Warrick
Personality: cautious // aloof // pessimistic // flirtatious (only towards Becca ...and Reese??) Traits: head // independent // resistance // believer Past affinity: math Primary ability: extrasensory awareness Past susceptibility: forward. 'it’s better to push forward. don’t look back on the past when you have new places to be and things to achieve.' <<< his motto
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🕊️ Fernweh: Davor lived a happy life there and didn't think about leaving in the future. Maybe for some trips, but he knew it would always be his place, his safe place... 'It was a mistake to come back here.' - that was his first thought when he tried to fall asleep on the first night in Fernweh. The nightmares came back as he thought they would. He wants to leave as soon as possible because he feels that it is not safe for Becca to be here.
🕊️ Gramps Dan: That was his gramps who taught Davor how to play the guitar. As a young child, Davor always admired him and believed he was the most intelligent person in the world. After the death of his parents and how his grandfather treated him, he was devastated and angry. He wanted answers soo badly but didn't get any. He lived loathing his grandfather ever since. The news of his passing stirred up a lot of negative emotions that Davor had previously managed to suppress. At the beginning of the story he couldn't care less about his grandfather, but because of his journal he started to believe him. Things that his granfather lived through made Davor even more angry at this messy town …but he's willing to forgive his gramps…
🐝 Becca Warrick: It was a ...funny story that brought both of them together and they look after each other ever since. He considers Becca as his precious (not in a negative-possessive way) treasure, he literally can't let anything bad happen to her. That was also she who came up with the nickname 'Dove'... (and she's literally the only person who calls him that, others wouldn't dare...). He had feelings for her for quite some time but didn't act on it... until now. Although he didn't express it, he felt very nervous about Becca being in the town where he grew up. He was curious (but also scared) about what she could think of this town. He felt like he was revealing more of himself to her…. and he forgot about any worries pretty fast, because the town started being weird as fu--.
🕊️ Reese Verner: Back then Davor was quite cheerful and enjoyed competing with Reese regularly. They teased each other a lot. Davor always thought that Reese had a crush on him, was it true tho? donut know, but he certainly had. ...why does he appear in his nightmares? Maybe the crush stage never disappeared...? Seeing him again was a nice experience, sure... but ignoring the circumstances, he is still unsure if it was worth it and is struggling with his thoughts… Would it be worth it to return to Fernweh just to see him... again? welp, good thing he doesn't have to think about it much, am I right?
🕊️ Sofia Dorran: The two of them maybe did not have a strong relationship, but he knew Sofia is the ideal person for engaging in intelligent conversations. He enjoyed spending time with her, solving the puzzles that gramps created for them both. Davor wasn't a fan of fantasy books, but she managed to change his mind about them. Davor knows that Sofia did take good care of his grandfather, but he still doesn't quite know if he's grateful for that or wished she spent her time more... valuably... He was tempted to ask Sofia to borrow that book she found in his grandfather's bedroom, but he thought better of it. It's better to leave Fernweh… Even so, his curiosity wasn't properly fed.
🕊️ James Corvin: Maybe not brothers by blood, but definitely brothers by choice. Davor treated him as if he was the brother he always wanted to have. Back then Davor always placed a high value on his family… until now. At the time, Davor tended to be more impulsive and James was usually the one who kept him from getting into trouble (which often involved Reese). It was really hard, for both of them, to see each other after so long. Their first interaction was pretty awkward... I would even say that most of their interactions were . James noticed how Davor changed the question is: for the better or worse? I don't even know. Everyone can sense, that things around them are different now, and they aren't as close as before. Will it change?
🕊️ Alek Corvin: …To say that Alek wasn't a fan of Davor would be an understatement. Was it because James spent most of his time focusing only on Davor trying to get him out of trouble? Did Alek observe any possessiveness from Davor towards James? Or maybe simply because of the bond between those two, which was truly something that others would envy and desire? Davor never considered it, especially when he left Fernweh permanently. :)) As you can imagine, Alek doesn't seem very happy about Davor's return… But he took an interest in his new friend, Becca, which did not go unnoticed by Davor and he isn't really happy about it.
🕊️ The Waitress: Oh boy, it seems that Davor has taken up a new hobby, which is glaring harshly at the waitress. He finds her mistrustful and he smells trouble. Had they met when he was younger, there may have been a slim chance of them getting along.
🕊️ Waffles!: So um… Davor has a little issue with dogs and because of that his relationship with Waffles isn't as wonderful as I wish it would be... However, I believe that with time and help from Becca, they will eventually become friends.
#fernweh saga mcs#fernweh saga art#who do queue think you are?#(yes; i did my more normal/organizational tags first to contain the !!! emotions at getting to learn about another one of your lovelies.)#There's so much thought into his character from the backstory to that scar and how it relates to Becca along with his slight-#-fear/aversion to dogs to how he and Sofia would conquer puzzles the TFS grandfather created. :D#(I also love how Becca might be able to get her Dove to eventually be more comfortable around Waffles by building trust.)#The meaning behind his tattoos is incredible--i'm in awe of all the tiny exacting lines you drew to create the symbols. 😍#(Davor caught my eye since I saw that leather style/more rebellious look paired with the cute honeybee pin; the clash--the softness for B.)#Davor: *is a badass* Also Davor: *wears the bee pin in honor of Becca and will stare down anyone who says smthn about it* 😠#the shade of blue for his eyes is so pretty--it reminds me of dark ocean depths#i saw your tags about the dynamic with him; James; and A! I think you have some great insight into why a 'frenemy' or negative-#-past history A behaves the way they do. There might be some jealousy. 👀 They already weren't fond of the MC as a kid so how hard the-#-absence hit J is something A (especially strained/frenemy A) never forgets. They couldn't take seeing J like that.#Davor's motto is very fitting with his personality and how he has come to view his grandfather!#the conflict you've created for him is epic--such a keen and curious mind that his grandfather helped to nurture but it's overshadowed by-#-some rightful anger about what happened. Sharing the same hobbies as a man he now harbors some resentment towards. Ouch. 🥺 (I love it!)#i'm excited for you to continue exploring the dynamics in Book Two; Nyks! Thank you for taking the time-#-to share your Returning Visitors and create this art. 💚💐🕊
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atlasthegreatest · 1 month ago
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Where it Begins / Yu Jimin x Male Reader
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In which, Karina goes on a blind date with Y/n—a long time friend of Giselle. Or, where Y/n and Karina bond over their shared desire for normalcy among their busy lives.
Word count: 4165
A/n: I wanted to try something… I hope you guys like it.
Yu Jimin, better known as Karina from Aespa, sat in a cozy corner of a trendy café in Gangnam, stirring her iced Americano absentmindedly. She wasn’t sure how she had let herself be roped into this situation—blind dates weren’t exactly her thing. But Giselle, her groupmate and close friend, had been persistent.
“Trust me, Jimin. He’s nice, funny, and not the type to be starstruck. He’s a normal guy with a good head on his shoulders,” Giselle had said with a grin. “You need someone who gets you, and I think he could.”
Now, as the soft murmur of café chatter surrounded her, Karina couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Being an idol came with its own set of complications, and dating was one of the hardest. There were always eyes on her, even now when she wore a simple baseball cap and oversized hoodie, hoping to blend in.
She checked her phone again. He was supposed to be here any minute.
“Hi, Jimin?”
Karina looked up, surprised by the familiar, deep voice. She blinked, taking in the man standing in front of her. He wasn’t exactly what she had expected—but then again, she hadn’t known what to expect. He had a sharp, clean-cut look, with a slight air of confidence about him. His smile, however, was warm and genuine.
“Yes, hi! You must be Y/n?” she asked, standing up to greet him.
“Yeah, Y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said, taking a seat across from her. “Aeri told me a lot about you, but I didn’t know what to expect.”
“Same,” Karina laughed softly. “She said you were her friend from school, right?”
“Yeah, we met in one of our history classes. I work as a financial consultant now,” Y/n explained. “It’s pretty straightforward, but I like it. What about you? I mean, I know what you do, of course, but how’s life treating you?”
Karina smiled, appreciating that he wasn’t making her idol status the focus of the conversation. “It’s good. Busy, as usual. We’re preparing for a comeback soon, so things have been non-stop. But I enjoy it, you know? It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”
“I can imagine. It must be intense. I have no idea how you handle all that pressure,” Y/n said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Do you get much time for yourself?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “But I try to make the most of the little breaks I get. I love what I do, so I can’t really complain. And besides, today’s a nice change of pace.”
“Yeah? It’s been a while since I’ve done something like this too,” Y/n admitted. “Honestly, I was kind of surprised when Aeri suggested this, but I figured, why not?”
They both laughed at how Giselle’s insistence had pushed them into this moment, and it eased the lingering awkwardness between them. As the conversation continued, Karina found herself relaxing more. Y/n had an easygoing nature, and despite his polished appearance, he wasn’t intimidating at all. He talked about his work, shared funny anecdotes from university, and even admitted to being a bit of a homebody when he wasn’t working.
Karina, in turn, talked about her passions outside of music, like how she loved writing and finding new hobbies but struggled with having enough time for them. They bonded over their shared introverted tendencies and the desire to find balance in their busy lives.
At one point, Y/n leaned back, watching her with a thoughtful expression. “You’re different from what I expected.”
Karina raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”
“I don’t know. I guess I expected you to be more… guarded? But you’re easy to talk to,” he said, a bit shyly. “It’s refreshing.”
She smiled, feeling a slight warmth spread through her at the compliment. “I guess I’m just comfortable around you. It doesn’t feel like you’re judging me.”
“I’m not. Honestly, I’m impressed. Not many people could handle what you do.”
Karina looked down at her drink, a bit flustered. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
The conversation flowed naturally after that, and before they knew it, two hours had passed. Karina felt surprised at how comfortable she was around Y/n, and how much she was enjoying herself. The awkwardness had faded, replaced by a genuine connection.
“So,” Y/n said, glancing at his watch, “I know this was just supposed to be coffee, but would you want to grab dinner sometime? No pressure, of course.”
Karina hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “I’d like that. Let’s see how our schedules line up, but I’m interested.”
Y/n grinned, looking relieved. “Great. I’ll text Aeri and let her know the blind date didn’t completely flop.”
They both laughed, and Karina felt a strange sense of excitement. Maybe blind dates weren’t so bad after all.
As they left the café, exchanging one last smile before parting ways, Karina couldn’t help but wonder what this unexpected connection might lead to.
————————-
A few days had passed since the blind date, and Karina found herself thinking about it more than she expected. In the whirlwind of rehearsals, interviews, and photoshoots for Aespa’s upcoming comeback, her mind kept drifting back to that afternoon with Y/n. It wasn’t just the fact that the date had gone well—there was something about him that stuck with her.
Maybe it was the way he seemed completely unfazed by her fame, treating her like any other person. It felt rare, especially in a world where everyone seemed to have expectations about who she should be.
“Jimin, you’re spacing out again.” Giselle’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Karina blinked, snapping back to reality as she and her groupmates sat in their dorm’s living room. They were taking a much-needed break after a long day of practice.
“Sorry,” Karina mumbled, earning a knowing smirk from Aeri.
“You’ve been like this ever since the date,” Giselle teased. “Y/n must’ve really left an impression, huh?”
Karina rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “He was nice. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.”
“Nice? That’s it?” Winter piped in from her spot on the couch, clearly interested in the gossip. “Come on, unnie, you can do better than that. Give us details.”
“Well, he’s a financial consultant. Smart, funny, and…” Karina paused, feeling a little shy under her members’ curious gazes. “He made me feel comfortable. I didn’t expect that.”
“You like him,” Ningning sing-songed, earning a playful glare from Karina.
“I didn’t say that,” she protested, though the warmth in her cheeks gave her away.
“It’s written all over your face, unnie,” Ningning added, giggling. “But that’s okay. It’s good to see you thinking about something other than work for once.”
Karina shook her head, trying to hide her embarrassment. “It’s just one date. I don’t know where it’s going, if anywhere.”
“You should give it a chance,” Giselle said, her tone a bit more serious now. “Y/n’s a good guy, and you deserve to have something normal. If it works out, great. If not, no big deal.”
Karina appreciated Giselle’s words, but the thought of dating still made her feel cautious. Her career was at its peak, and dating wasn’t just personal—it was public. Every move she made would be scrutinized, and the idea of dealing with the media’s obsession with her love life felt overwhelming.
But then again, Y/n didn’t seem like the type who would complicate things. He was grounded, and that was rare in her world.
“Okay, I’ll give it a shot,” Karina finally said, her voice soft but resolute. “We’ll see where it goes.”
A week later, Karina found herself waiting outside a quiet restaurant in Itaewon. Y/n had suggested a place known for its privacy, one that celebrities often frequented to avoid being spotted. He’d even joked about how he wasn’t famous, but he figured she might appreciate the discretion.
Y/n arrived right on time, flashing her that same easy smile that made her feel at ease. He was dressed casually in a dark sweater and jeans, his appearance polished but not overly so. It was the kind of look that suited him—effortless but put-together.
“Hey, hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” Y/n said as he approached.
“No, I just got here too,” Karina replied, smiling back. “This place looks nice.”
“I figured you’d appreciate somewhere quiet. You probably don’t get much peace when you go out, huh?”
Karina chuckled softly. “Not really, no. This is perfect, though.”
They were led to a private booth tucked away in the back, and Karina felt the tension ease from her shoulders as they settled in. The dim lighting and soft music created a relaxed atmosphere, making it easy to forget the pressures outside.
“So, how’s comeback prep going?” Y/n asked once they had ordered.
“Intense, but that’s normal,” Karina said with a small sigh. “There’s always pressure to outdo ourselves with every release. It’s exhausting, but I love it. I just wish there were more hours in the day.”
“I can’t even imagine. I get stressed just from balancing a couple of client meetings in a day. You’re juggling a whole career.”
“Yeah, but you deal with people’s money,” she pointed out with a grin. “That sounds stressful in its own way.”
“Fair point,” Y/n laughed. “But I’m guessing you don’t get much downtime to just… be yourself, huh?”
Karina’s expression softened at the question. “Not really. I mean, I do have my moments. The members and I are really close, so I can relax around them. But outside of that… yeah, it’s hard to switch off.”
Y/n nodded thoughtfully. “I guess it’s hard for people to see past the idol image sometimes.”
Karina glanced at him, surprised by how easily he seemed to understand. “Yeah. It’s not that I mind being an idol—it’s who I am. But sometimes I feel like people forget there’s a person behind it.”
“Well, I don’t want to sound presumptuous,” Y/n said, his tone careful, “but I don’t see you as Karina right now. Just Jimin.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his words. It wasn’t something she heard often—at least not from someone who wasn’t already in her close circle. She found herself smiling, genuinely touched.
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
They continued to talk, the conversation flowing just as easily as it had during their first meeting. Y/n shared stories about his clients and the quirks of working in finance, while Karina opened up about the more human side of being in the spotlight—how she missed simple things like going to the movies or walking around Seoul without being recognized.
The night flew by, and before they knew it, the restaurant was closing. As they stepped out into the cool evening air, Y/n walked her to her manager's car.
“So… dinner wasn’t a disaster,” he joked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d call that a win.”
Karina laughed, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. “I’d say so. I had a great time.”
“Same here.” Y/n hesitated for a moment before continuing, “Would it be okay if we did this again? I know your schedule’s probably crazy, but…”
“I’d like that,” Karina said, cutting him off with a smile. “We’ll figure something out.”
Y/n smiled back, relieved. “Great. I’ll let you know when I’m free, and you can do the same.”
As they said their goodbyes, Karina felt a warmth settle in her chest. It wasn’t a grand, sweeping romance���not yet, anyway. But there was something genuine about Y/n that made her want to keep exploring whatever this was.
For the first time in a long while, she felt like she could be herself, and that was worth holding on to.
Bonus chapter:
It was early afternoon, and Aespa had just wrapped up a grueling rehearsal for their upcoming music video shoot. The studio was buzzing with the usual energy: staff members adjusting lighting, choreographers reviewing the footage, and the members catching their breath on the sidelines. Karina stretched her arms above her head, feeling the slight ache in her muscles.
“Okay, let’s take a fifteen-minute break, everyone!” the choreographer called out.
Karina grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off her forehead and slumped onto the floor next to Winter, who was scrolling through her phone.
“You’ve been glowing lately,” Winter teased, her eyes still on the screen. “It’s either that new skincare routine or that boy you went on a date with.”
Karina gave her a playful nudge. “It’s definitely the skincare.”
“Sure, sure,” Winter said with a smirk. “So, when are you seeing him again? Or are you already planning the wedding?”
Karina let out a dramatic sigh. “One date and everyone’s marrying me off.”
“Hey, I’m just asking,” Winter laughed, tossing her phone aside. “He seems like a good guy. I’m happy for you, unnie.”
Karina appreciated Winter’s sincerity, though she wasn’t quite sure how to describe what was happening with Y/n. It had only been a couple of weeks since their blind date, but they had texted regularly, and their casual dinner had felt… natural. Real. Like something outside the world of cameras and expectations. She wasn’t used to that.
“I’m seeing him later this week,” Karina admitted quietly. “But it’s nothing serious yet.”
Winter gave her a thoughtful look. “You don’t need to rush. Just see where it goes, right?”
Karina nodded, thankful for Winter’s easygoing advice. The conversation was cut short when Giselle bounded over, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“What are we talking about? Jimin’s love life again?”
“Obviously,” Winter replied, smirking.
Giselle dropped down onto the floor beside them. “Well, I approve of Y/n. And I’m rarely wrong about people.”
Karina smiled. “I think I approve too. So far, at least.”
Later that evening, Karina sat in her dorm room, her legs tucked under her as she looked out the window at the city skyline. She was still winding down from practice, sipping on some herbal tea when her phone buzzed beside her. A message from Y/n.
Y/n: “Hey, Jimin! How was your day? Still alive after all those rehearsals?”
Karina chuckled softly and typed back.
Karina: “Barely! But yeah, we survived. How about you? Long day at work?”
Y/n: “You could say that. Had a couple of back-to-back meetings, and now I’m trying to remember what sleep feels like.”
Karina: “Sounds like you need more than a cup of coffee.”
Y/n: “What I need is another dinner with you. If you’re free this weekend?”
Karina’s heart did a little flip, the simplicity of the question making her smile. She typed back without overthinking it.
Karina: “I think I can make that happen :)”
There was a pause before Y/n responded.
Y/n: “Perfect. I’ll find somewhere quiet again. I’m not trying to end up on the front page of Dispatch.”
Karina laughed, appreciating his understanding of her situation. It was refreshing that he took her lifestyle in stride without making it awkward.
Karina: “Yeah, let’s avoid that for as long as possible.”
Y/n: “Deal. Looking forward to it, Jimin.”
———————-
The weekend came quickly, and Karina found herself back in the familiar rhythm of preparing for a date. She kept it simple—minimal makeup, a casual but chic outfit that could go unnoticed. For once, she felt a bit of excitement bubbling in her stomach that wasn’t tied to performing or being in the public eye. It was personal, and that felt nice.
They met at a small, tucked-away restaurant in Seongsu-dong that Y/n had picked out, a quiet place with an intimate atmosphere. As soon as Karina walked in, Y/n stood up to greet her with a warm smile.
“Hey, you look great,” Y/n said, his voice kind.
“Thanks. You too,” Karina replied, smiling as she took a seat.
Once again, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked about their week, shared stories about their families, and even laughed over the little annoyances of their respective jobs. Y/n had a way of making her laugh that felt unforced, natural. Karina could feel herself lowering her guard, bit by bit.
Throughout the evening, they fell into a comfortable rhythm, enjoying each other’s company in a way that didn’t feel rushed or forced. It was easy, and Karina realized how much she appreciated that—how much she needed it.
After they finished dinner, they stepped outside into the cool autumn air. The streets were quieter now, a soft breeze rustling through the trees. Karina wrapped her coat a little tighter around her, and Y/n glanced at her.
“Want to walk for a bit?” he asked. “I know a nice spot by the river not too far from here.”
Karina hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Sure, I’d like that.”
They walked side by side, the gentle sound of their footsteps mixing with the occasional distant hum of traffic. The Han River stretched out beside them, shimmering under the city lights.
“Do you ever get tired of it?” Y/n asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Karina looked over at him, curious. “Of what?”
“Being Karina. The public persona. The constant pressure.”
She thought about it for a moment, the weight of the question settling over her. “Sometimes,” she admitted softly. “It’s not that I don’t love what I do—I do. But there are moments when it’s hard. When I just want to disappear for a while and be Jimin. No expectations. No spotlight.”
Y/n nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. “I get that. It must be hard to find that balance.”
“It is,” Karina said, her voice quieter now. “But tonight, I feel more like Jimin than Karina.”
Y/n smiled at that, his gaze warm as he looked at her. “I’m glad.”
They continued walking in silence for a while, the comfortable kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. As they reached a small bench overlooking the river, Y/n stopped and turned to her.
“You know, I wasn’t sure what to expect when Aeri set this up,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “But I’m really glad we did this.”
Karina felt the same warmth from before, that quiet sense of something real blossoming between them. “Me too.”
As they stood there, looking out over the peaceful river, Karina realized that, for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t thinking about work, schedules, or the next big event. She was just Jimin, standing beside someone who saw her for who she was—and that felt like something worth holding on to.
As Karina and Y/n sat on the bench, watching the river’s gentle current, the silence between them felt more like an unspoken understanding. She rarely had moments like these—where the world slowed down, and she wasn’t the idol, the performer, or the public figure. She was just herself, and Y/n had a way of reminding her that being Jimin was enough.
“Tell me something you missed from before you became… well, you,” Y/n asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable quiet.
Karina thought about it for a moment, her mind drifting back to memories of simpler times. “I think it’s the small things,” she said softly. “Like going to the grocery store without feeling watched. Or taking the subway and people not recognizing me. I used to love just walking through the streets and feeling invisible, blending into the crowd. I miss that.”
Y/n nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That must be hard—to give up those everyday moments. People probably think being famous is all glamour, but they don’t see what you lose.”
“It’s a trade-off,” Karina said, shrugging lightly. “I wouldn’t change my life for anything, but yeah, there are moments where I just want to be… ordinary again. But enough about me. What about you? What do you miss from when life was simpler?”
Y/n chuckled. “You’re assuming my life’s complicated now.”
“Well, it can’t be all easy, right? Financial consultant—sounds intense.”
Y/n grinned. “I guess so. I think I miss having time for hobbies. Back in university, I used to play the guitar. Not anything fancy, just for fun. But now, between work and adulting, I barely have time to pick it up. Sometimes I feel like life’s become all about work and not enough about living.”
“Sounds familiar,” Karina replied, a soft laugh escaping her. “Maybe we need to find more time to live.”
Y/n looked at her, his smile fading slightly as his expression turned more serious. “Maybe we do.”
They shared a lingering look, the air between them charged with something unsaid but palpable. It wasn’t an overwhelming intensity, but more of a quiet, growing connection. Something steady and real, like the slow build of a song that hasn’t reached its crescendo yet.
“Are you ever afraid of people finding out?” Y/n asked after a while, his tone gentle.
Karina knew what he meant. The thought of the media discovering this budding relationship was always in the back of her mind, a constant pressure she couldn’t escape. “I am,” she admitted. “It’s complicated. If people find out, it could affect both of us—my career, and your privacy. It’s not just about us, you know?”
Y/n nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, I get that. But for what it’s worth, I’m willing to take things as they come. I’m not going to run away because it might get messy.”
Karina felt her chest tighten at his words. It was rare to find someone willing to navigate the chaos of her life without hesitating, without being scared off by the potential consequences. She appreciated that more than she could say.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet but sincere. “I needed to hear that.”
Y/n smiled, and the weight of the conversation seemed to lift slightly as they stood from the bench and began walking back toward the main street. The cool breeze brushed past them, carrying with it the scent of autumn, crisp and fresh. Karina could feel the energy of the city, the hum of life continuing around them, but in this little moment, it felt like they had carved out a space just for themselves.
As they reached the point where they would part ways, Y/n paused, turning to face her. His expression was soft, thoughtful, as if he was weighing his next words carefully.
“Can I be honest with you for a second?”
Karina raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Of course.”
“I didn’t know what to expect when we first met. Aeri had always talked about you like you were this larger-than-life person, this untouchable figure. And I was nervous—thinking about how different our worlds are. But now…” He paused, running a hand through his hair before meeting her gaze again. “Now, I just see you as Jimin. And I like that. I like you.”
His confession hung in the air between them, and Karina felt her heart skip a beat. It wasn’t that she hadn’t heard people express interest in her before—she was used to the admiration that came with being an idol. But Y/n wasn’t talking about Karina, the persona. He was talking about the person behind it, and that meant more than he could know.
She didn’t trust herself to speak for a moment, unsure of how to respond to such an honest, vulnerable admission. But eventually, she smiled, the warmth of his words settling in her chest.
“I like you too,” she said softly, feeling the truth of it as she spoke.
Y/n’s grin returned, soft but genuine. “That’s good to know.”
They stood there for a moment longer, neither of them in a rush to leave. The world felt suspended in time, the busy city around them fading into the background.
“I should get going,” Y/n said finally, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.
“Yeah, me too,” Karina agreed, though she felt the same.
As Y/n took a step back, he gave her one last look, his smile still lingering. “I’ll text you.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she replied, her own smile growing as she watched him walk away.
Once he disappeared into the night, Karina let out a small breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. This was new territory—uncharted, and in many ways, risky. But for the first time in a long time, she felt something genuine, something real, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to let it go.
———————
As she turned to head back to her dorm, Karina’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, expecting a message from one of her members or her manager, but instead saw Y/n’s name lighting up her screen.
Y/n: “By the way, what’s your favorite song right now?”
Karina chuckled and typed back quickly.
Karina: “That’s a hard one. Why?”
Y/n: “I’m thinking of picking up my guitar again. Maybe I can learn it for you.”
Her heart fluttered at the thought, and for the first time in a while, Karina let herself feel hopeful.
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anniebeemine · 3 months ago
Note
Hiiii i saw that the fic request is open????
May I request for a fluff with a little angst??
Maybe about the Reader is the type who always listens to their friends/dates but they never really listens to the reader when she talks about things? Bc they have different interest, and no one really bothers to learn more about the reader’s interests..
so the reader’s kind of insecure with starting a relationship with spencer since no one really care to learn about the real them before and afraid getting disappointed?
Or you can make your own ideas! Love your fics!!
Thnkyouuu!
oh this one felt a little soul bearing to write but almost in a therapeutic way.
You'd always been the kind of person who listened. It came naturally to you—friends, family, dates—they all knew they could come to you with their problems, their stories, their dreams. You were the one who nodded attentively, who remembered the little details, who asked the right questions. It felt good to be that person, to be relied upon. But over time, you began to notice something that chipped away at your confidence, bit by bit. While you listened to others, no one really listened to you. Conversations were often one-sided, revolving around their interests, their hobbies, their lives. When you tried to share something about yourself—your own passions, thoughts, or dreams—their eyes would glaze over, or they’d steer the conversation back to something they found more interesting.
It wasn’t that you had nothing to say. You had plenty, a lot, too much even. But it felt like no one wanted to hear it. So, slowly, you learned to keep those parts of yourself hidden. You stopped bringing up your interests, stopped trying to share your world with others. After all, why bother when no one seemed to care?
Then came Spencer. Meeting him felt different from the start. He had a curious mind, always asking questions, always eager to learn. But that difference, that potential for something deeper, was what scared you the most.
On your first date, you had set the precedent. The two of you had gone to a small, cozy café, the kind of place where the noise of the world seemed to fade into the background. Spencer had been nervous at first, fidgeting with the napkin in his lap, but once he found a topic he was comfortable with, the words started flowing.
He’d been talking about a book he was reading—a dense, complex work about the history of criminology. You watched him as he spoke, the way his eyes lit up when he got to a part that really interested him, the way his hands moved as if trying to pull the ideas from his mind into the air between you. You’d never met someone who could get so passionate about something so academic, and you found yourself captivated. But then, in the middle of his explanation, Spencer had suddenly stopped.
His face fell, and he sighed. “I’m sorry,” he had said, looking down at the table. “I’m rambling. I do that a lot. Most people don’t really listen when I get like this.”
His words had hit you harder than you’d expected. There was something so vulnerable in the way he admitted it, like he was used to being dismissed, just like you were. And in that moment, you realized something: you liked listening to him. You liked the way his mind worked, the way he could weave facts and ideas together into something fascinating. It didn’t feel like a chore, like it had with others. You wanted to hear more.
“I’m listening,” you’d told him softly, reaching out to touch his hand. “I want to hear what you have to say.”
Spencer had looked up at you then, surprised. It was as if he hadn’t expected anyone to actually care about what he had to say. But when he saw the sincerity in your eyes, a small smile had tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he’d continued, a little more confident this time.
Remembering that now, you felt a pang of guilt. Spencer had opened up to you, had shown you a side of himself that he didn’t often let others see. And yet, here you were, holding back, afraid that if you did the same, he might lose interest.
But the truth was, you’d always been the listener.
It was a role you’d grown accustomed to, one that felt safe. Opening up, letting someone in—that was new, and it terrified you. Still, if Spencer could take that leap of faith with you, maybe you owed it to him—and to yourself—to do the same.
You like Spencer—a lot. But every time you thought about taking the next step, about letting him in, those old insecurities flared up. What if he was like everyone else? What if he only liked the version of you that listened, not the one who had her own thoughts and passions? What if, once he really got to know you, he’d lose interest?
The thought of that kind of disappointment was almost too much to bear. You didn’t want to risk it. You didn’t want to put yourself out there, only to find that, once again, you weren’t enough.
But Spencer wasn’t the kind of person to let things slide. He noticed the way you hesitated, the way you held back. He noticed the way you’d quickly change the subject when the conversation veered toward you, and how you’d deflect with a question about him instead.
One evening, after a particularly quiet dinner, Spencer finally addressed it.
“Why do you do that?” he asked softly, his voice filled with that gentle concern you were coming to know so well.
“Do what?” you replied, though you knew exactly what he meant.
“Whenever I ask you about yourself, you always change the subject. It’s like you don’t want me to know you.”
His words hit a little too close to home, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You tried to shrug it off, tried to downplay it. “It’s nothing. I just... keep telling me about Nietzsche. I'm interested."
But Spencer didn’t let it go. He looked at you, really looked at you, and in that moment, it felt like the world had tilted just slightly off balance, like you were in a movie, and someone had gone off script. None of the characters knew what to do. You didn’t know what to do.
The silence stretched, the weight of it pressing down on you until something in you snapped. A dam broke, and suddenly, the words started spilling out.
“I’ve always been a listener,” you began, your voice trembling as you spoke. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the one who listens. My friends, my family, dates—they all come to me with their problems, their stories, their dreams, and I listen. I nod and I smile and I remember the little details. And it feels good to be that person, to be relied upon.”
You paused, trying to steady your breathing, but the words kept coming, a flood you couldn’t stop.
“But the thing is, no one ever really listens to me. They nod, they smile, but when I try to share something—anything—about myself, their eyes glaze over, or they steer the conversation back to them. It’s like my thoughts, my passions, my dreams don’t matter. So, I just stopped. I stopped trying to share because why bother when no one cares?”
Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, your rant spilling out faster than you could control.
“Sometimes, I just want to talk, you know? About my day or about the cute little old man at the grocery store who asked me where the vanilla wafers were because he was making banana pudding for his granddaughter’s birthday. But no one ever listens to that kind of stuff. It’s always about them, always about their lives, and I just—I don’t know how to deal with that anymore.”
You finished with a huff, feeling the weight of your own words hanging in the air between you. The room felt too quiet, too still, and you didn’t know what to do next. You felt exposed, vulnerable, like you’d just laid out all your insecurities for him to see.
But Spencer didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away. Instead, he gently reached across the table and took your hand in his, his touch grounding you in the moment.
“You don’t ever have to ask me to listen to you,” he said softly, his voice steady and sure. “I just will.”
He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “And now I have to know—do I have competition? Should I be worried about this vanilla wafer gentleman?” he added with a small smirk, his eyes sparkling with a playful warmth.
Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile. Spencer always had a way of making you feel seen, even when you tried to hide, even when you tried to shrink into the background, afraid to take up space. There was something in the way he looked at you—not with pity or impatience, but with genuine interest and understanding—that made you feel like your words, your thoughts, your very presence mattered.
For so long, you had convinced yourself that you were destined to play the role of the listener, the one who supported others but never asked for anything in return. It was easier that way, safer. You wouldn’t have to face the disappointment of being ignored or dismissed. But Spencer had gently, almost imperceptibly, been pulling you out of that shadow, urging you to step into the light and share the parts of yourself you’d kept hidden for so long.
His question, playful as it was, carried a deeper meaning. It wasn’t just about the little old man at the grocery store or the vanilla wafers; it was about Spencer’s desire to know you—the real you, beyond the surface, beyond the polite conversations and deflections. It was about his willingness to listen to the stories that no one else had ever bothered to hear.
The realization settled over you like a warm blanket, comforting and unfamiliar all at once. It felt strange to be on the receiving end of such attention, to have someone care enough to notice when you were holding back, and to push gently, but firmly, for you to let them in.
You looked at Spencer, his hand still holding yours, and you saw something in his eyes that made your heart swell—a quiet determination, a promise that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he would be there, listening, no matter what.
The smile on your face widened as you shook your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “No, you don’t have any competition,” you replied, the tension in your chest slowly melting away. “Though you might have to fight him for the last box of vanilla wafers if he gets there before me.”
Spencer chuckled, the sound light and easy, and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, a burden you hadn’t fully realized you were carrying. The room seemed a little brighter, the air a little lighter, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.
“I like hearing about your day,” Spencer said after a moment, his tone more serious now. “I want to know what makes you happy, what frustrates you, what you think about when you’re lying awake at night. I want to know all the little things that make you, you.”
His words wrapped around you like a protective cocoon, shielding you from the doubts and insecurities that had plagued you for so long. There was no rush, no pressure—just a gentle invitation to share, to open up, to let him in.
You squeezed his hand, feeling a swell of emotion that you struggled to put into words. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”
Spencer��s expression softened, and he leaned in a little closer, his thumb still tracing patterns on the back of your hand. “You’re not just someone who listens, you’re someone worth listening to. And I want to hear everything you have to say.”
In that moment, you knew that this was different. Spencer was different. He wasn’t just someone who would talk at you or fill the silence with his own thoughts. He was someone who genuinely cared, who wanted to know you in all the ways that mattered. And maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself believe that this was something real, something worth holding onto.
“Okay,” you whispered, your voice steady now, filled with a newfound confidence. “I’ll try to be better about sharing, about letting you in.”
Spencer smiled, a soft, reassuring smile that made your heart flutter. “There’s no rush. We’ll figure it out together.”
And as you sat there, hand in hand, you realized that you weren’t alone anymore. For the first time, you had someone who wanted to listen, who wanted to know you, all of you. And that, more than anything, was a gift you never knew you needed.
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enluv · 10 months ago
Text
sungchan as your boyfriend…
pairing: non-idol!sungchan x gn!reader
word count: 573!
genre(s): pure fluff like hold onto your hats because this might make you fall in love with him kinda fluff + (no warnings!)
coco’s <3 note: thank you @okkotsu-simp for requesting this 🤍
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– sungchan who first meets you at your universities library because you’re sitting in his usual spot and he’s seriously irritated about it but he thinks you’re too beautiful to tell you off
– that same sungchan decides to just take the seat in front of you and smiles when you look up at him surprised, he’ll explain that you’re in his spot and shake his head no quickly after when you try to get up and offer it back to him, instead asking you what you’re working on
– the rest is history after that, you have a mutual crush on one another and he asks you out immediately after watching the library worker try and flirt with you, something about how you’re his significant other and he thought it was obvious to evereyone???
– sungchan is the type of boyfriend to introduce you to the things he usually does alone, this isn’t to say he doesn’t continue to do them alone but if he thinks you’ll enjoy going on a walk in his favorite park then he’ll be sure to plan for you to try it out with him
– he won’t force you to try new things (foods, activities, hobbies, etc.) but he would most definitely encourage it
– he knows how hard university can get so he will always make sure you’re taking care of yourself
– you’ve been up for hours working on a final paper? it’s time to sleep love, and he means it! he’s a strong guy do you really think he won’t trick you with cuddles on his bed then trap you in his arms till you eventually fall asleep?
– sungchan who can’t cook to save his life but will learn to make you soup for when you catch a cold
– sungchan who buys your pet clothes he thinks will look cute on them and swoons whenever you send him pictures of them wearing the outfits he bought
– sungchan who is the biggest cuddle bug you’ll ever meet, like seriously he loves his cuddles so much and demands them every night
– sungchan who so badly wants to meet your parents because he wants them to know who is dating their baby but is also so nervous to meet them that he freaks out all day till you drag him to dinner shaking
– sungchan who goes out of his way to form an authentic friendship with your friends because he knows how much they mean to you and wants to make sure they know how much you mean to him
– sungchan who drives with one hand, and places the other over you to make sure you’re safe when he’s backing out of places (i need him)
– sungchan who gets pouty when you won’t kiss him because you’re sick and don’t want him to catch your cold (he swears up and down he doesn’t care but pouts even more when he catches it)
– sungchan who always lets you taste his food when you guys go out to eat together
– sungchan who helps you study for exams you have coming up
– sungchan who invites you back to his place for holidays away from school when you can’t go back home
– sungchan who buys you flowers all the time because he knows they make you smile
– sungchan who notices the little habits you have, like tapping your fingers nervously or squeezing his hand a bit tighter when you’re excited about something
– sungchan who when he has a bad day at work or school calls you because hearing your voice immediately puts his mind at ease and washes away all his worries…
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coco’s <3 note: right so like I NEED HIM. okay moving on! I could totally go on forever with these but I decided that I should maybe just post them because if I didn’t stop myself I definitely would have never posted this and just kept adding to it for months on end (this is totally not the reason I haven’t posted my jay bf hcs ahahahaha why would you even think that silly goose!) anyways I hope you enjoy these and fantasize  about sungchan the same way I did when writing them 🤣🫵🏽 as always, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated <3
riize taglist — @palajae @txtlyn @rllymark @soheekisser @luvbinnies @chaerybae @lecheugo @idkwatodoanymore @givemeakith @haechansbbg @mxlly143 @tinyelfperson @vampcharxter (bold can’t be tagged 😞)
Want to be added? Check out the form post here!
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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 4 months ago
Text
Never Say Never| Pt2
Warnings: Cursing, Mentioning of Infidelity
Pt1 Pt3 Pt4
(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)
It had been a few weeks since you and Hyunjin had started reconnecting. The initial awkwardness had faded, and the comfort of your friendship was slowly returning. You both avoided talking about the past too much, focusing instead on rebuilding the bond you once had.
You had taken things further with your old classmate and had been official for about two months when you decided to introduce him to Hyunjin.
One sunny afternoon, you decided to take a significant step in your renewed friendship. You had been seeing Kai for a few months now, and you thought it was time for him to meet Hyunjin. Despite the complexities of your history with Hyunjin, you wanted him to know the important people in your life.
"Hey, Hyunjin, are you free this weekend?" you texted him.
"Yeah, I should be. What's up?"
"I want you to meet someone. How about we grab coffee on Saturday?"
"Sounds good. Looking forward to it."
You were worried about your new boyfriend, feeling insecure, but strangely he didn't mind at all that you spent time with Hyunjin, and you found it attractive that he could be so assured you wouldn't do anything because he trusted you that much.
But he was still down to meet a famous idol.
Saturday arrived, and you found yourself at a cozy café, far from any public gaze - or at least relevant public gaze considering everyone around you was above 40 in the cafe - waiting for Hyunjin. You were nervous, unsure of how this meeting would go. Kai sat next to you, holding your hand reassuringly.
"Relax," he said with a smile. "It'll be good."
You smiled back, though your nerves didn't completely fade. A few minutes later, you spotted Hyunjin walking in, scanning the room until he saw you. He waved and made his way over, his usual confident stride slightly hesitant.
"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, giving you a warm smile. Then he turned to Kai. "And Kai. Nice to meet you."
Kai stood up and shook Hyunjin's hand. "Nice to meet you too. I've heard a lot about you."
Hyunjin raised an eyebrow playfully. "Same, Y/N talks about you a lot-"
"Oh, I meant from like...news articles and stuff haha. You're famous so Y/N doesn't really need to tell me much." Kai had said it in a way that seemed somewhat bitchy to Hyunjin, but he regarded it as a mishearing, since he couldn't help but admit he was slightly jealous of Kai.
You laughed and little nervously. "Why don't we sit?"
The three of you settled into a table by the window, and the conversation began. It started off light, and slightly tense, with small talk about work and hobbies. Hyunjin and Kai seemed to get along well enough, but Hyunjin couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of something he couldn't quite place. He chalked it up to jealousy and pushed the feeling aside. He would put up with you boyfriend if it made you happy.
Over the next few weeks, you continued to balance your time between Kai and Hyunjin. It was a delicate act, but you managed to make it work. Hyunjin and Kai had met a few more times, and while there was a tentative friendship forming, Hyunjin couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Deep down Kai just didn't sit right with him.
He noticed little things that bothered him. Like Kai seemed almost too perfect, always saying the right things and never showing any flaws. As if he was compensating for something. You, on the other hand, seemed a bit more anxious than usual, often distracted and lost in thought. Knowing your nature, Hyunjin almost wondered if you were picking up on the same things.
One evening, as you and Hyunjin sat in a park, catching up after a long day, he decided to bring it up.
"Y/N, can I ask you something?" Hyunjin said, his tone serious.
"Of course," you replied, looking at him curiously.
"Is everything okay with you and Kai? You seem a bit... off lately."
You hesitated, looking away. "Everything's fine, Hyunjin. Why do you ask?"
He shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I don't know. Just a feeling, I guess. You know you can talk to me, right?"
You nodded, forcing a smile. "I know. Thanks, Hyunjin." While you felt slightly uncomfortable with your ex trying to give you relationship advice, you still very much appreciated that Hyunjin was willing to, and that he had your best interests in mind.
Despite your reassurances, Hyunjin's suspicion grew. He didn't want to pry, but he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something was wrong. He decided to keep a closer eye on things, hoping to understand what was going on, but do it on the down low as to not make you feel as if he was prying.
One evening, you invited Hyunjin over for dinner. Kai was out of town on a business trip, and you thought it would be nice to spend some time with Hyunjin. As you cooked together, you fell into an easy rhythm, laughing and joking like old times.
"Remember that time we tried to make sushi and ended up with rice everywhere?" Hyunjin asked, grinning.
You laughed. "How could I forget? We made such a mess! Chan was pissed."
You guys laughed and joked like old times, and you felt at peace.
After dinner, you settled on the couch with a glass of wine.
"I smell like meat now." Hyunjin joked, sniffing at himself.
"Really?" You leaned over and sniffed at him slightly. "I still smell your cologne. Maybe the meat smell is coming from me." You turned your head to sniff at you shoulder.
"It's not you. You smell like vanilla, and like...snickerdoodle cookies. You always have a warm sugar type of smell."
"I think it's because I prefer the sweeter scents. Maybe it was all the time I spent baking with Felix, but I'm obsessed with the smell of vanilla. I've found this once scent and I refuse to use any others. I might die it ever discontinued." You joked, sparking laughter from Hyunjin.
After a while the conversation turned more serious, and Hyunjin found himself asking about Kai again.
"So, how are things with Kai?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
You knew what he was doing, and you hesitated, twirling the stem of your wine glass. "They're good. He's really supportive and understanding."
Hyunjin nodded, but the suspicion gnawed at him. "That's good to hear. You deserve someone who treats you well."
You smiled, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. "Thanks, Hyunjin. That means a lot. You...you treat me well too. You're my best friend." You found your heart doing a flip when he smiled- and you quickly tried to get it to stop.
As the weeks went by, Hyunjin's suspicion grew. He noticed more things that didn't quite add up. You seemed more stressed than usual, often distracted and distant. Whenever he asked about Kai, your answers were even more vague and hesitant than they had been at the beginning.
One evening, as you and Hyunjin sat in a quiet corner of a cafe, he decided to bring it up again.
"Y/N, is everything okay with you?" he asked, his concern evident.
You sighed, looking away. "I don't know, Hyunjin. I think...I might break up with Kai?"
Hyunjin's heart had jumped at the words, but he quickly suppressed that and focused on the bigger problem at hand. The why.
"What...why?"
"Sometimes I feel like he's hiding something from me." You bit your lip and your brow furrowed- an easy tell tale sign that you were about to cry. Hyunjin had known you long enough to know that for a fact.
He quickly reached out and grabbed your hand.
Hyunjin's heart sank. He wanted to protect you, to help you figure out what was going on. But he also knew he couldn't interfere too much; because it was very probable that his own feelings for you- and his distaste for Kai - could get in the way.
"Have you talked to him about it?" he asked gently.
You shook your head. "No. I'm afraid of what I might find out. I just have this feeling..."
Hyunjin reached out and took your other hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Whatever it is, you deserve to know the truth. And I'm sure in the long run everything will be okay."
You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "Thanks, Hyunjin. I just... I don't know what to do."
He wished he could do more to help, but all he could offer was his support. "I'm here for you, Y/N. Whatever you need, whenever you need it."
As you struggled with your doubts about Kai, Hyunjin found himself increasingly concerned for you. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that something was wrong. He tried to be there for you as much as possible, hoping to provide some comfort and stability.
But his own feelings were a tangled mess. The jealousy he felt towards Kai was mixed with genuine worry for your well-being. He couldn't stand the thought of you being hurt again. And he knew he was still in love with you.
That fact was easy to prove.
Whenever he saw you laugh or smile- he felt an immense swell of affection, admiration, and the urge to just reach out and squeeze you. But he also felt that lined with guilt from the stupid mistake he had made long ago.
And not to mention whenever he was met with flirting from others, he could only imagine those words coming from your lips, or those subtle gestures being displayed by you.
One night, after another long conversation with you, Hyunjin lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. You had been crying. He needed to know what was going on, but he didn't want to overstep, and make it seem like he was being a petty ex. Because while he hoped for a second chance, he knew that if you broke up with Kai you could easily find someone else- and if that was the case he didn't want to jeopardize the friendship he had with you.
The next day, he decided to confide in Chan. As they sat in the practice room, Hyunjin poured out his concerns.
"I just don't know what to do," he admitted. "Something feels off with Kai- and Y/N feels it too. but I don't have any proof. I don't want to make things worse for Y/N. But I know they won't take any steps to confront the problem."
Chan listened carefully, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe you should trust your instincts, Hyunjin. If you really think something's wrong, it's better to find out now than let it fester. And if it's for Y/N's safety and happiness, a little overstepping might be needed."
Hyunjin nodded, feeling slightly reassured. "I just don't want to hurt Y/N again."
"You won't," Chan said firmly. "You're looking out for them. That's what friends do."
With Chan's words in mind, Hyunjin resolved to keep a closer eye on things. He didn't want to pry too much, but he couldn't ignore his gut feeling. He hoped that, whatever the truth was, it wouldn't break you further.
One evening, as you and Hyunjin sat in your apartment, the conversation turned to Kai again. You seemed more agitated than usual, your anxiety palpable.
A week passed since your conversation with Hyunjin about confronting Kai - whether that be with your idea of a breakup or something of a lesser magnitude. You still hadn't mustered up the courage to talk to Kai about your doubts, but Hyunjin's support was a constant source of comfort. He made sure to check in on you regularly, and you found yourself leaning on him more and more.
And it slowly made you realize just how much you had been pushing down those feelings of love you had been suppressing. Because with every glance he shot your way, every brush of your hands, or breeze or flow of air that carried his scent to you-
You were flooded by all the good memories you had with him. All the love.
One afternoon, you and Hyunjin were walking through a bustling street market. He had apologized before taking you out- since the place you were going required some sort of disguise, and it made him think back to the reason you guys had broken up in the first place. You assured him it was fine though. The vibrant colors and enticing smells provided a temporary distraction from your worries and any other minor inconveniences.
"Let's get some street food," Hyunjin suggested, his eyes lighting up at the sight of a tteokbokki stand.
You nodded, grateful for the extra distraction. As you stood in line, you noticed Hyunjin glancing at you, concern etched on his face.
"You've been really quiet today," he remarked, handing you a steaming cup of rice cakes.
"I'm just...thinking," you admitted, taking a bite. The spicy sauce did little to ease the knot in your stomach. But it was still tasty.
Hyunjin sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I know it's hard, Y/N. But you can't keep avoiding this. It's eating you up inside."
You looked down, feeling the weight of his words. "I know, Hyunjin. I just... I'm scared of what I might find out."
Hyunjin's grip tightened slightly, a gesture of reassurance. "Whatever it is, you'll get through it. And I'll be here for you, always."
Later that evening, you sat in your apartment, staring at your phone. Kai had texted you earlier, saying he would be home late due to work. You knew you needed to talk to him, but the fear of what he might say paralyzed you.
A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. You opened it to find Hyunjin standing there, a determined look on his face.
"Hey," you greeted, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he admitted. "I know this is tough, but you need to confront Kai. And I'm not leaving until you do. I thought it might be easier to have someone here to support you, since you hate confrontation."
You felt a surge of gratitude and determination. "Okay, Hyunjin. I'll do it. But I don't know if Kai would like it if you were here...I'm not sure if you've noticed but he seems to be...uh...not to be rude but in distate of you?"
Hyunjin chuckled. "No offense taken, mon ange." He felt the nickname slip of off his tongue naturally and mentally kicked himself. It had been so long since he had spoken those words to you, yet they felt so familiar, and his tongue loved the feel of it.
You looked at him with wide eyes and swallowed. "Kai should be home in a little, I'll call you?"
Hyunjin nodded and gave you a little bow before rushing off, feeling his cheeks warm in hot embarrassment.
Hours later, Kai finally came home. He looked exhausted, but his face lit up when he saw you.
"Hey, Y/N," he said, walking over to give you a hug. "Sorry I'm so late." He pulled you close in an even tighter squeeze, and you took a breath, your nostrils filling with a pine sort of scent, and flowers. Like if you were standing in a botanical garden.
You pulled away slightly, taking a deep breath. "Kai, we need to talk."
Kai's expression shifted to one of concern. "What's wrong?"
"I feel like... like there's something you're not telling me. There's been this distance between us, and I can't ignore it anymore."
Kai's eyes widened in surprise. "Y/N, what are you talking about? I haven't been hiding anything."
"Then why do I feel like you're keeping secrets from me?" you demanded, your voice shaking.
Kai ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "I've been stressed with work, but that doesn't mean I'm hiding anything from you."
"Kai, I just need to know the truth," you said, your voice breaking. "I can't keep living like this. You're always away. I moved in because I thought it would be more convenient and I would see you more, but it seems I see you even less than when I lived with my best friend."
Kai sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Alright, Y/N. I didn't want to burden you with this, but... I've been having some issues at work. It's nothing serious, just some disagreements with my boss. I didn't want to worry you. I've been working extra to get back on his good side. I enjoy this job. I enjoy the money. The people." He takes a breath. "You don't usually get that in a job that pays this well. So, I don't want to lose it."
You stared at him, processing his words. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"I didn't want to add to your stress," he explained, his voice soft. "You've been through so much already." He goes and ruffles your hair.
You felt a mix of relief and frustration. "Kai, I appreciate that, but we're supposed to support each other. Keeping things from me only makes it worse. You know how anxious I get."
Kai nodded, looking remorseful. "You're right. I'm sorry, Y/N. I'll be more open with you from now on." He kisses your forehead and says something about going to shower.
The conversation left you emotionally drained. Kai's explanation made sense, but there was still a lingering doubt in your mind.
"Do you believe him?" Hyunjin asked when you brought it up to him the next day. You were sitting in the dorms, choosing to spend your workday there since it was the guy's day off. The perks of working from home. You intended to go shopping with Jeongin later, but you just had to finish one last form, but you got distracted by telling Hyunjin about the conversation you had.
You sighed, leaning back on the couch. "I want to. But part of me still feels like there's more to it."
Hyunjin nodded, understanding your hesitation. "Just take it one step at a time, Y/N. And remember, I'm here for you."
As the days went by, you tried to move forward, focusing on rebuilding trust with Kai. But it was like your sixth sense was blaring. But you found solace in having a friend like Hyunjin. He seemed to make the complicated things a bit easier to bear.
However, Hyunjin's own feelings were becoming even more complicated. The more time he spent with you, the harder it was to suppress his lingering affection. And despite his best efforts to be supportive, he couldn't ignore the nagging suspicion that something was still amiss with Kai- especially when you were saying those things yourself.
One evening, as you and Hyunjin walked through the city, he decided to voice his concerns.
"Y/N, I know you want to believe Kai, but I can't shake this feeling that something's not right," he admitted, his voice tense. "And I don't want to seem out of place but I can't stand to see you suffering."
You looked at him, startled by his candor. "What do you mean?"
Hyunjin took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I don't know. It's just... little things I've noticed. He seems too perfect, too controlled. And you still seem so uneasy. And...it makes no sense to get back on your bosses good side. Especially with the industry he's in he has like 4 different bosses so unless he somehow pissed off all four of them."
You frowned, considering his words. "Do you think he's lying to me?"
"I don't want to jump to conclusions," Hyunjin said quickly. "But I think you should trust your instincts. If something feels off, don't ignore it."
"He wouldn't lie to me though. We've known each other for years. I don't think he'd do that."
"Y/N-"
"Hyunjin I think you're right. It is out of your place. So...lets drop it okay?"
Hyunjin felt his heart droop like a kicked puppy and nodded.
The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions. You tried to balance your relationship with Kai while keeping Hyunjin's words in mind- even when you didn't want to. It hurt to think that someone you had known for so long would be doing something behind your back.
The tension between you and Kai grew,and you felt a tension growing in between you and Hyunjin.
You had been upset and hadn't talked to him in a few days. You told yourself he was only doing these things because he was jealous. But you knew Hyunjin and while he did act on his jealousy occasionally, you knew he wouldn't jeopardize your entire relationship because of it.
And you couldn't shake the feeling that something was still wrong.
One night, after another argument with Kai, and argument that had brought a lot of suspicions to light; you found yourself at Hyunjin's apartment. He welcomed you in, offering a listening ear and a comforting presence.
"I don't know what to do, Hyunjin," you admitted, tears streaming down your face. "I want to believe him, but I he's acting really defensive about things now."
Hyunjin pulled you into a hug, his heart aching for you. "It's okay, Y/N. Take your time. You'll figure it out." He felt hurt for you, and he leaned his nose to your shoulder. The smell of warm sugar and vanilla and everything homely easing his nerves. Nerves that he was more than sure were tripled in your own case.
The strain in your relationship with Kai only grew as the days went by. The tension was palpable, and you often found yourself retreating into the comfort of Hyunjin's company. His unwavering support was the only thing keeping you grounded, but even he couldn't shield you from the turmoil you were experiencing.
One night, it finally blew up. You had gone through his company email, after seeing a suspicious text. You found yourself unable to bear it any longer. It was well past midnight when you stormed out of your apartment, tears streaming down your face. You didn't know where to go, but your feet carried you to a familiar place: the dorm.
It was an ungodly hour when you arrived, especially since you had walked the few miles- which you knew would get you in trouble with Hyunjin and in turn the rest of the boys. Also considering you were in an extremely vulnerable state. You hated the thought of Chan or Felix scolding you on top of all of this.
Your heart pounding in your chest as you knocked on the door. The city was eerily quiet, the only sound being your soft sobs and the distant hum of light early morning traffic.
After what felt like an eternity, the door finally creaked open.
"Its 2:30 in the fucking morning why the hell-"
Minho stood there, bleary-eyed and clearly half-asleep. And angry pout set into his face. His expression quickly shifted from anger to concern when he saw you.
"Y/N? What's going on?" he asked, his voice hushed yet urgent.
You choked back a sob, unable to form coherent words. Minho quickly ushered you inside, his protective instincts kicking in. His arms wrapped around you as he looked around and locked the door.
"Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?" He gently looked all around, his hands gentle as he sat you on the couch and tried to hold back his anger at the thought of someone hurting you. He knew it had been a while since you and Hyunjin had ended things but he still regarded you as his family.
The weight of everything seemed to crash down on you all at once. Moments later, Chan appeared, his hair disheveled and eyes wide with worry, but not sleepy at all.
He must have been working.
"Y/N, what happened?" he asked, rushing to your side. Slowly other members filed out due to the commotion.
When Hyunjin walked out, rubbing his eyes and running into Seungmin, his expression turned to a murderous anger and he pushed through to you.
"Did he hurt you?" His questions mimicked those of Minho's and the younger members went back into their rooms with looks of concern and hesitation after Chan waved them away. He and Minho stayed out with Changbin, and if it wasn't for the state of panic you were in you'd laugh at how much of a parent dynamic the hyung line had.
You looked up at him, your vision blurred by tears. "I...I couldn't stay there anymore, Hyunjin. It's too much."
"Did he hurt you?" Hyunjin asked again. "If he laid a finger-"
"No he didn't..." You manage to choke out. "He- you were right Hyunjin. You were right."
Hyunjin's face hardened with determination. He sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You can tell me when you're ready."
Through your tears, you explained how you had discovered the truth about Kai. How your suspicions had grown because he always smelled like flowers.
It was a stupid realization, but you had never used flower scents. You found it to be an unappealing scent due to the subtleness of it. Which you would have never noticed the scent on Kai if you had never trained yourself to try and smell them when you had been using scents of such. And so whenever you hugged him and he had the subtle aroma your suspicions had grown.
Then a weird transaction happened on your cars, and it led you down a rabbit hole where you found the immense amount of debt Kai was in.
He had originally been truthful about working late nights- but another coworker had been too and eventually it led to a couple of drinks and a "stupid mistake". Except the guilt hadn't done anything other thasn to make Kai more doting in repentance, since he continued after the "mistake."
The arguments and the secrecy had all led to one heartbreaking revelation that he had been meeting with someone else, under the guise of late-night work meetings. But it wasn't just physical cheating that shattered you; it was the emotional betrayal. Kai had formed an emotional connection with someone else, confiding in them about things he should have been sharing with you.
He even said he loved them.
"I confronted him," you said, your voice breaking. "He admitted it. Said he didn't mean for it to happen, that he was just lonely and stressed at work. He apologized. Saying he didn't mean to fall in love with someone else. He cried. So much. Like he was hurt that he hurt me."
Hyunjin listened intently, his jaw clenched in anger and frustration on your behalf. "Don't do that Y/N."
You looked up at him from his embrace, and you saw anger and frustration overtake his exhaustion.
"Wh-what?"
"Don't make it so you see yourself as the villain. He might feel horrible, but it doesn't take away from the fact that he acted on those feelings while being in a relationship with you. You don't have to paint him out to be the bad guy if you don't want to." Though I do. "But you're sure as hell not going to blame yourself for this. People fall out of love all the time but that never justifies cheating."
You wiped your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. "I thought I could handle it, that we could work through it. But seeing him tonight, knowing he was still talking to her... I couldn't stay. I thought it would be a clean break but its not- Hyunjin it's not." You let out a guttural sob, and Hyunjin swear he can hear his heartbreak.
Hyunjin tightened his hold on you, his voice filled with conviction. "You're not alone, Y/N. We'll get through this. I'll help you. The guys will."
Minho, who had been silently watching from the doorway with Chan and Changbin stepped forward. "Do you need anything? Water? Tea?"
You shook your head, grateful for his kindness. "No, I'm okay. Thank you, Minho."
He nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. "Take your time. We're here for you."
Chan and Changbin both came and hugged you along side Minho. It was a comforting group hug that seemed to take the hurt away slightly.
As the night wore on, you found some semblance of peace in the familiarity of the dorm. The comforting presence of Hyunjin helped ease your anxiety, even if just a little.
"Why don't you stay here tonight?" Hyunjin suggested gently. "You shouldn't go back home. Not right now." He flipped your phone over behind you, ignoring the 12 missed calls and numerous texts from Kai. "I can inform the bastard that you'll be staying here for a while."
You hesitated, not wanting to impose. But the thought of returning to your apartment, where the shadows of your argument with Kai still lingered, was too much to bear.
"Okay," you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper.
Chan nodded in agreement. His exhaustion setting in. "I'll set up the guest room for you. Stay here as long as you need. It'll be nice having another face around the house."
Once you were settled into the guest room, Hyunjin lingered in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and determination.
"Get some sleep, Y/N. We'll talk more in the morning," he said softly.
You nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. "Thank you, Hyunjin. For everything."
He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Anything for you."
As he closed the door, you lay back on the bed, your mind racing with thoughts and emotions. Despite the chaos, a sense of relief washed over you. You weren't alone. Hyunjin was there and so were the guys, and together, you would navigate whatever lay ahead.
The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of soft chatter coming from the kitchen. You hesitated for a moment before heading out, finding Minho and Hyunjin sitting at the table.
"Good morning- or afternoon." Minho greeted with a warm smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," you admitted, taking a seat. "Thank you."
Hyunjin poured you a cup of coffee, sliding it across the table.
You nodded, taking a sip of the hot beverage. "I need to talk to Kai. Really talk to him. Ease myself a bit."
"Y/N...you don't intend to get back with him do you?" Jisung said settling next to Hyunjin. "Cause I would kill him if I were you."
"Ya! Jisung don't be like that." Chan scolded from the kitchen where he was making lunch. Jisung huffed quietly and pouted.
"Fine dad." He said pulling his cup up for a sip.
"I'm not. I just want to talk with him and make this a civilized break. Grab my stuff too."
"You sure he'll be able to afford the apartment with all his debt? Broke ass bitch-" Seungmin said while he was grabbing something from the fridge.
Chan reached over and slapped the back of his head lightly. "Ya! Did you not hear me scold Jisung a minute ago?"
"It's the truth though..." Seungmin mumbled rubbing the back of his head. "Imagine having to work overtime because of debt, and then getting in more debt because you found an office affair because of overtime. With the amount of money he'll be owing the landlord now he'll probably cheat seven mor-" Chan hit him again a little bit harder and Seungmin sighed. "You're just feeding into censorship. I'm spitting facts."
"Seungmin stop watching American shows, you'll linfluence Innie." Changbin says looking up from his phone.
"Stop censorship!" Innie says raising a fist into the air while shoving half a bowl of ramen in his mouth.
You can't help but laugh, and Hyunjin feels his heart thump at hearing it again.
He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "We'll be here for you, no matter what. Based on what you told me it seems he knows a breakup is inevitable. It's really mature of you to want to talk first, and be able to express your hurt."
Minho nodded in agreement. "And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. Don't forget that."
Later that day, you decided it was time to confront Kai. Hyunjin offered to come with you for support, but you insisted on facing this alone. He respected your decision, giving you a reassuring hug before you left. And a soft pet on the head.
Something he had done when you both were something more.
When you were both something that you found yourself missing more and more.
As you stood outside your apartment, your heart pounded in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. Kai was sitting on the couch, his expression a mix of relief and apprehension when he saw you.
"Y/N, where were you? I was worried sick," he said, standing up.
"I needed some time to think," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "We need to talk, Kai."
He nodded, gesturing for you to sit. "Okay. Yeah. Let's talk." He said nodding, knowing what was to come.
A little later, you had grabbed a duffel full of a couple of things, intending to come back another day for the rest of your belongings. You had wished your ex all of the best. Even if your heart was completley shattered.
You felt humiliated and ashamed.
You were all broken, and he was okay. Even being honest enough to admit he was going to continue his relationship.
Leaving the apartment, you intended to walk around for a little, to clear your head and dry your tears before having to go back to the dorm and face everyone.
But that plan immediately failed when you stepped out from the building and saw Hyunjin standing there with a small boquet of roses.
The only sound you could hear was the paper crumpling in his hands as he walked towards you.
"Y/N." He said softly, and that was all it took for the towers to come crashing down.
You just buried your head into his chest and let him hold you.
The flowers were long forgotten as you sobbed into him, and as he whispered sweet nothings into your hair.
"Let's go home." He said quietly.
And there in your arms you realized something that you had been shoving into the depths of your soul for a long time. Something that maybe wasn't entirely appropriate for you to be realizing at the moment.
Hyunjin was your home. You missed him.
And you wanted to ruin what you had with him. Make it into something more.
Because you were still very much in love with him.
But you were too prideful to ever admit that...
(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)
@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha
@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric
@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee
@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin
@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun
@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael
@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads
@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld
@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9
@minsungsthirdwheel
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spicybunni · 1 year ago
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YANDERE DOCTOR : Dr. Olsen
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*sigh* Another psychotic OC...I love the concept of yandere doctors. So here's my own!
WARNINGS⚠️: Needles, Medical shots, Yandere tendencies, manipulation, mentions of violence, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
🩸His profession and status within the hospital makes it so easy to manipulate others into doing his bidding and also making you stay in the hospital bed. He won’t make you sick but he will lie and say you have to stay 4 months in hospital quarantine until your “symptoms” are gone. Which buys him enough time to charm and seduce you into coming to him as an admirer rather than a patient.
🩸If you are his patient you will quickly realize why he has so much influence in the hospital. Not only for his skillful medical knowledge and practices, but for his looks as well.
🩸Dr. Kincaid Olsen is 6’2 and has a bit of muscle. His hair is light blonde and eyes are light brown. He wears glasses to sharpen his vision when examining files or patients. He also wears them at night continuously since they help him see a bit clearer. (Like you trying to escape from your hospital bed) He has the typical doctor attire of the white coat and stethoscope hanging around his neck. As for clothes he switches between a dress shirt with slacks and the standard scrubs. 
🩸Has a certain soft spot for old people coming in with pain in their bodies. They’re like babies to him so his sadistic nature halts when it comes to children and old people.
🩸When it comes to people who disrespect his staff or patients with harassing visitors, Dr. Olsen has no problem tossing their ass to security or taking matters into his own hands if necessary. Which includes but certainly not limited to: injecting poison, strangulation, threats, and inflicting internal injuries beyond self repair.
🩸He is also a bit sadistic when it comes to you, his dearest patient. If you’re being bad and not listening to his advice or following “Doctors Orders” he will do something minuscule like if you’re calling for him he will send the nurses in his place. Or if you’re having a bad headache he will give you dummy pills saying they are painkillers. He relishes in the needy attention you give him, asking him to stay or just talk to you for a few minutes. After all, you’re by yourself with no visitors or friends within his hospital.
🩸Although he can be mean, he can also be professionally sweet. His visits to your hospital bed would always start with checking your heartbeat, pulse check, and a simple chat about how you're doing mentally.
🩸Loves looking at your medical history through your adulthood.
"They're on the pill? Interesting.."
"Oh dear, back injury? They didn't tell me about that.."
"Aww they had pneumonia two years ago? If only they came here to me then..."
🩸His private life outside of work is that he’s a coffee connoisseur and has a love/hate with reality TV. These may sound lame but he doesn’t really have time for many hobbies or interests since he works so much. His profession allows him to afford either a very nice apartment or house. He owns no animals in case one of his patients is allergic.
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octuscle · 4 months ago
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From Penthouse to Trailer Park
"And now you want to tell me what my future should look like?" Matthew rolled his eyes and looked up from his new expensive iPhone for a moment. The visit to the careers advisor was obligatory, but he thought it was completely unnecessary. His parents had sold his great-grandparents' company to a German corporation a few years ago and now devoted themselves to managing their assets and looking after their bodies. Matthew was the only son, he would inherit everything and he had no intention of ever taking up a profession. He was interested in art, maybe he would study art history in Tuscany, but that was just a hobby. And a way to hook himself a hot Italian stallion…
He continued to play with his cell phone while the man across from him asked him questions, handed him brochures and swiped on a tablet computer. Matthew was annoyed. And he didn't even think the man was hot. Someone boringly normal to die for. Someone who had to work for a living. Someone who didn't go for manicures. Boring and repulsive. "Can we cut this short and end it now? I have an appointment with my personal trainer and then I have to go to the beauty salon. Why don't you fill out your form however you like? Do I have to sign anything? To document that you've done your pathetic job? Did your career counselor actually advise you to do this? Matthew chuckled arrogantly. Chris hated narrow-minded assholes like that. But there were plenty of them here at the school. So he quickly drew up a report and handed it to Matthew so he could sign it on the display.
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief, took his sports bag, neatly packed by Consuela, and left Chris's office without a word. He was looking forward to being properly tortured by Aaron, his hot trainer, at the gym. But he had rejoiced too soon. No one was available at his gym reception and Aaron already had another client. So he would have to train alone. This day was a disaster. And it got worse. Because he had obviously got the wrong gym bag. The clothes were neither clean, nor were they his. It was probably the bag belonging to Manolo, Consuela's son. Disgusted, Matthew took the clothes out of the bag. Should he just leave now? On the other hand… It might have been quite funny. He put Manolo's clothes on. Everything was a bit big, Manolo was 20 years old. Two years older and considerably more muscular. Without a private trainer… Manolo's sweat smelled so good! This was going to be a good workout.
It was a good workout too. Even if the other members looked at him a little disparagingly. With his cheap and dirty clothes, he didn't fit in here. But that didn't matter. Matthew was here to work out. Not to put on a fashion show. After an hour and a half of hard training, Matthew remembered that he still had an appointment. Shit! No showering now. He couldn't keep his tattoo artist waiting. Matthew stroked his pumped-up upper arm. Today the lines would be joined by the shading. It was going to look hot. As he left the gym, the employee at the counter called after him that his membership fees had still not been paid. Shit, it was the end of the month. Money was tight. Everyone was like that…
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So, I'm Matt, dis here’s Junior, Pete, Chuck, an’ mah lil' princess Soraya. Shit, I wuz hopin' I could only father boys. I want at least five. An’ mah ol' lady already got a new baby in her belly. Keep yer fingers crossed it’s another boy. Shit, I'm lookin' fer a job right now. But it's just like the guy at the job center said: Once ya’re 18, don’t got no high school diploma an’ no education, yer prospects suck. I mean, I can sometimes help out in Hank's garage or drive a few routes at the truckin' company. But that don't help permanent. Mah own tattoo parlor would be cool. But who’s gonna pay fer that? An’ I mean, if someone wants their name or somethin’. An’ I’m makin' a mistake. I mean, spellin' or whatever it’s called wuz never mah thing. Guys, I can only advise ya to do yer thing. Mah life is awesome! An’ look at me! I’m the hottest guy in the whole trailer park. Ya can ask any slut here.
Chris shut down his computer with satisfaction. He had had a series of successful conversations. He believed he had really helped some of the students. And with the arrogant idiots who were born with the golden spoon in their mouths, he had simply recorded what he thought they deserved. It was just a dream. But he could jerk off to the idea afterwards.
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drmaddict · 9 months ago
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Spooky Girl
Summary: Ghost, Soap, Rudy and König have a girlfriend who just likes things, that are a bit spooky. (Just a few little scenes that my brain spit out.)
Wordcount: 2.497
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Ghost
"Are you growing your hair out, L.T.?" Johnny laughed and flicked Simon's wrist.
Simon reacted as expected. Not at all. He stared at Johnny motionlessly.
"Fits the look, after all.", the sergeant winked at him.
Simon rolled his eyes and pulled his sleeve over the hairband on his wrist.
Johnny continued to grin. "My sisters say these scrunchies are best for the hair. There's less friction. So no split ends."
 Simon continued to stare at him.
"Are you going to tell me why you've got that thing on?", he grumbled.
"No.", was Simon's simple answer before he turned back to his food. It was nobody's business. (Y/n) was nobody's business, or what was between them.  It was still too fresh anyway. This was his first mission since they had met. He wasn't sure what to make of this relationship yet. He liked her. It wasn't because of that. He was just too used to being alone. It scared him. His therapist would probably have found a bigger, more important-sounding word for his emotions, but fear seemed appropriate enough to Simon.
She was weird. He was weird too. He had started to like the weirdness. He was probably too old for her. Maybe he wasn't. He'd never been in a relationship. He'd never had to discuss the fact that his hoodies were actually HIS hoodies until a few months ago. She had only told him that they were hers now, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. But she looked really cute in them. She'd beamed at him when he'd unceremoniously thrown three of his hoodies on her bed. 
"Until I get back.", he'd mumbled.
She had then pulled her hairband off her head and put it around his wrist. The black satin with the little skulls on it was soft and had immediately clung to his skin.
"So that you'll really come back.", she had said and kissed him on the forehead.
"Always.", he had mumbled.
 "Who is she?" Johnny asked him directly. He looked at him with gentle playfulness.
Simon snapped out of his memory. He looked into his friend's blue eyes.  "You don't trust me with a 'he'?", he grinned under his mask.
"Well then HE definitely has long hair."
Simon shook his head in amusement. "A little one from home. It's still fresh."
"Photo?", Johnny continued to grin.
Simon shook his head.
"Oh come on!"
"No Johnny."
Johnny looked at him like a petulant puppy. "At least describe her.", he sulked.
Simon sighed and rummaged for a small photo in his pocket. The boy wouldn't stop anyway. He plonked it in front of the sergent and stared at it.
Johnny stared at the photo. "A goth chick?" Johnny reached for the photo, but Simon immediately pulled it back to him and put it away. Johnny looked at him in surprise. "Hot.", he grinned.
Simon just grumbled.
"Yes, I get it. I can see it. You fit together."
Another grumble.
 Johnny grinned like an idiot.
"What?", Simon snapped at him.
"Does she have a friend?"
Simon just rolled his eyes. His cell phone buzzed.
A message from (Y/n). When he opened the message history, he saw a picture of a rabbit skull.
'For your collection?' it said underneath.
Simon looked at the picture. He had been glad, that she didn't see his little hobby as disgusting. But that she was now also participating in it. It was a beautiful bone. Completely intact.
'Beautiful. Where did you get it?‘
'Judas picked it up on our walk.‘
Judas was her dog. A stubborn but tough creature. It was probably her type. 
'Put it on the ant farm. I'll bleach him when I come back next week.‘
'The three of us are waiting for you. ;)'
When he looked up again, Johnny was still grinning at him.
"The little one really has you wrapped around her finger."
Simon just raised an eyebrow.
"Good for you L.T."
Simon grumbled in agreement.
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Soap
"What magazine did you cut that out of?" Kyle laughed.
Soap pulled off his boots. "Huh?" he groaned and looked at his friend.
Kyle pointed to Johnny's locker page and the photo hanging in it.
Johnny followed Kyle's suggestion with his gaze and immediately furrowed his eyebrows. "That's my girlfriend you douche!"
"That's never your girlfriend! She's far too pretty... Apart from the fetish make-up."
Johnny threw his boot at Gaz. "Don't talk about my girl like that!", he growled.
Gaz raised his hands defensively. A grin stretched across his face. "Oh come on."
Johnny continued to scowl at him. Simon came into the changing room and looked at them both wordlessly. Without another comment, he went to his locker.
"How can you always train with that thing on your head?", Johnny asked him.
"Habit.", came the curt reply.
Johnny rolled his eyes as Gaz clapped his hands with a laugh. "So you've got a type!"
Johnny looked at him in confusion. Simon paid him no attention at all. 
"Dark and intimidating," Garrick winked at him and nodded towards Simon.
Johnny followed his gaze and a blush immediately appeared on his cheeks.
"I don't have a type!", he barked.
Gaz chuckled in amusement. "Sure."
Simon slammed his locker shut conspicuously loudly and disappeared just as wordlessly as he had come.
The two of them looked after him.
"She's very different from him.", Johnny grumbled immediately.
"Is she?"
"Yes, she's very reserved, but when you get to know her better, she's really funny. She likes to tell jokes, you know? Even if she's more into dark humor. And she likes her order, but accepts my chaos and she's not immediately put off by my job. Well, she goes to therapy, but she's actually really tough."
"Where did you two meet?"
"At a shooting range for my brother-in-law's stag party. She's really amazing. She could almost be a sniper and..." Johnny eyes widened.
Gaz grinned knowingly.
"Oh God! I'm dating L.T.!" Johnny exclaimed, overwhelmed.
"Really, how did you notice?"
Johnny threw his second boot at him. "What if I'm just trying to replace something with her?", he asked anxiously.
Now Gaz looked at him, confused. "What now?"
"Well... What if I subconsciously just saw her as a replacement. God I'm such an asshole."
"How many times did you try to enroll before you were finally eighteen?", Gaz asked him firmly.
"I stopped counting. What's that got to do with it?"
Gaz shrugged his shoulders. "You're nuts, but you know what you want. You've never accepted an alternative before."
Johnny looked at the photo in the locker. "No I never have."
Gaz nodded. "You clearly have a thing for mentally unstable Halloween decorations, but that doesn't mean you only want the girl as a substitute."
Johnny nodded. "Yeah, you're right. She's really great, you know?"
Gaz grinned. "I'll take your word for it."
"She always makes chocolate muffins, that look like the little coal men from Chihiro.", Johnny smiled at the photo. "And she can cook! I really put some weight on the last time, I was with her. It's almost like the good old times at grandmas.", he grinned to himself. "Even if it scares me a little, how relaxed she is with the house ghost."
"Please what??" Gaz blinked at him in surprise.
"The house ghost. She calls him Edgar. After the guy who built the house. She bought this old victorian house and at night you can always hear the back door banging open and shut and someone running up and down the stairs. But never up to the top floor. That was  built on later. I nearly wet my pants the first night, when I went to see what was going on and this gigantic mirror fell on me. The thing was secured with six sturdy wall anchors! SIX! Well, I didn't set foot in the house for two weeks after that, but she says she's negotiating a deal."
Gaz looked at him with horror in his eyes.
Johnny shrugged his shoulders. "I'm used to it by now. But the noise is a bit annoying."
Gaz gave him a forced smile. "You see. You don't have anything like that with Ghost... No ghosts with Ghost."
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Rudy
He was sitting in his small kitchen with Alejandro, listening to everything about Ale's last date, until they were interrupted by a loud noise.
Ale flinched in surprise and looked at the kitchen counter behind him. Rudy immediately ran to the counter and grabbed a cell phone. He wiped the green icon across the display and held it to his ear.
"(Y/n)s phone. Rodolfo on the line. - Yes, you forgot it here. - No, no problem. - Good. See you in a minute."
He placed the device on the kitchen table and looked into Alejandro's shocked face. "What? Was? That?"
"(Y/n) left her cell phone."
Ale looked at him like he was stupid. "What was that sound?"
"Her ringtone?" Rudy replied hesitantly. "Yeah... Her taste in music is a bit...  special," he admitted, looking at the device again.
"A bit? It sounded like a pig had been tormented.", Alejandro said indignantly.
Rudy grinned. "Somehow that relaxes her." He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I think the band was called... I can't remember. Lorna something."
Ale looked at him skeptically. "Wait. Is she coming over? I can finally see the mystery (y/n) with my own eyes?"
Rudy sighed. "Be nice, please."
"I'm always nice."
"Hmph."
Ale gave him an annoyed look. "I'll pull myself together."
"No subliminal threats.", Rudy stated firmly.
Alejandro started to speak, but didn't get the chance.
"And certainly no direct ones!"
The colonel fell back against the back of his chair, annoyed. It wasn't as if he had no manners. If anything, some even found his temperament attractive.
"Fine," he grumbled.
Rudy nodded in satisfaction as he heard the front door open.
"Hey." (Y/n) called down the small hallway.
Rudy stood up and walked towards her.
Alejandro didn't know what he had expected, but somehow he had always imagined her... pinker.
When Rudy spoke of his girlfriend, it sounded like he was talking about the sweetest creature on earth, who couldn't hurt a soul. Alejandro had envisioned a girl in a summer dress with pink lipgloss kissing Rudy on the cheek.
What he saw was a girl dressed in black. Transparent cut-outs, heavy boots and various buckles adorned her body.
Her lips, which Alejandro had always imagined to be pink, were painted black, just like her eyes.
She gave Rudy a quick kiss on the lips. "Sorry, I'm only here for a moment. Sofia got tickets for a concert today. I'd rather not ask how. Oh hi!"
She waved to Alejandro.
"This is Alejandro." Rudy introduced him.
He waved at (Y/n), overwhelmed.
"I'm (Y/n)." she replied quickly.
"You sure?" asked Ale before he could stop himself.
Rudy immediately gave him a warning look before turning back to (Y/n). "Be careful."
She kissed him again on the tip of his nose. "I'll text you when I get home. Bey Alejandro!" she called out and was already gone again.
Alejandro looked dully into the hallway. Rudy looked back with a raised eyebrow.
"Well I didn't expect THAT.", Alejandro said.
Rudy sighed.
"Oh come on! You described a lamb!" He threw his hands up in the air dramatically. "Not a little vampire. No matter how cute she seems to be."
Rudy sighed devotedly and sat down at the table.
"She's just like I told you."
"So... a black lamb?"
The corners of Rudy's mouth twitched. "Yes. That fits."
"To get back to the, let's call it 'music'."
"I don't get it either.", Rudy smiled with amusement.
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König
"Little bat?" König asked his girlfriend cautiously. She was sitting in one of his shirts next to his legs in front of the couch, looking thoughtfully at her puzzle, while the movie of her choice was playing on TV.
"Yes Bear?" she asked without looking up.
His eyes darted to the television at a particularly organic sound, before quickly settling back on her.
"Um... I know I said 'My job is war and I can take more than nornal humans'."
(Y/n) looked up and grinned mockingly.
"But I admit that your warning was probably... justified."
She grinned at him openly. "No (y/n)! I've seen and done things-"
"All right!" he interrupted her. A woman on the television screamed. "Is this girl still alive?" he asked in disgust.
(Y/n) pressed a button on the remote control and the movie stopped.
"There's no way anyone could survive something like that," he huffed.
His little bat just took a sip of his coffee. "The lore is, that Art keeps someone alive ,until he's satisfied. He decides when you die."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It's horror. It's not supposed to make sense." She patted his gigantic thigh. "You held out very well, but you dropped out of the movie. You lost the bet. You have to order today.", she smiled mischievously.
He grumbled and reached for the tablet.
"No! You have to call! That was the bet."
He looked murderously at the phone. He hated ordering food. Which made no sense, considering his job and his career in it. He was a grown man. He made most people afraid, but still. These everyday situations weren't exactly easy for him. It wasn't like it used to be, but it would never be normal either. Nobody had to like him in his job. No one expected him to be polite. In the real world, there were all these rules and unspoken regulations.
"Like always?" he asked her. She just nodded and went back to looking at her puzzle.
Sometimes it was funny. They both weren't the most confident when it came to social interaction, even though the world always thought they should be. Him because of his body. Her because of her look.
They had started making bets. The loser had to make phone calls or tell the waiter in the restaurant that the food was going back.
He ordered the pizza and felt (Y/n) put a hand on his knee. He had started wiggling his legs again. A habit that had always upset his mother. She stroked his knee with her thumb and he brought his limbs back to rest. With a sigh, he tossed the cell phone towards the pillow. It was nice that he didn't feel any anxiety with her. It was nice to have someone who gave him the space to find peace.
"What kind of picture is this going to be?", he asked her, stroking her hair and looking at the dark puzzle.
"Blackness."
"Blackness?"
"Yes. It's just black." She grinned.
"Why?"
"Because we as humans like to play God. The nice thing is... There's a reference picture."
He grinned. He loved how she was amused by little things like that. He loved his little bat. Her and her bloody pointless puzzle.
219 notes · View notes
evans23 · 3 months ago
Text
Falling
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Pairing : Hans Gruber x Reader OC
Summary : In the remanence of winter, Hans makes an unexpected encounter, which will bring a bit of peace in his chaotic life. Unfortunately, there is no happy ending for a man like him. 
Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Smut. Angst. No happy ending here.
A/N : Enjoy dear reader 😁
Also read on AO3
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It was a chilly afternoon in the middle of Spring in Kensington Park. It was your favorite park, even though you didn't really know why. After all, according to your parents, all the parks in London looked the same, but you disagreed with this assumption.
Also, you were slightly biased as you worked as a saleswoman in the little shop adjacent to the palace. You didn't like your job, but you loved the castle and its history. In fact, your dream was just in front of the park, in the form of a school called Royal College of Art. Unfortunately, after having got your A-level, you didn't succeed in getting a scholarship and your parents were unable to finance your study. Therefore, you started to work for a local McDonald's, and then, you found yourself lucky to get a job in the souvenir shop of the castle, thanks to a relative who ceaselessly reminded you what you owed him as the job was well-paid and not as tedious as your previous one. More than often, the customers, tourists for most of them, were far more agreeable than the ones who frequented the fast food, and you didn't stink of the greasy fries each night when you came back to your cramped apartment.
Also, the uniform was more comfortable and flattering than the horrendous one you had to wear and you could let your curly hair hang down your back without being reprimanded by your boss who was afraid of seeing one of your unruly hairs in the middle of a bag of fries. On the other hand, what should have been temporary had become permanent and while all you're friends were breezing through their plan life, you struggled to keep your own life on track.
That day, you had finished your shift in the early afternoon and as you weren't ready to face the loneliness of your life, all alone in your small apartment with a too expensive rent for so few rooms, you had decided, despite the coldness, to sit on a bench in the Walk of Flower to read one of your favorite book: "Notre Dame de Paris" from Victor Hugo.
You didn't notice the stranger who sat on the bench next to yours. You were too engrossed in your book for that and anyway, the park was well frequented by many people, locals, residents, or tourists for you to really notice them. 
However, there weren't too many tourists at this time of the year. It was still too cold and rainy. It will change in less than one month. The park, the street, and the castle would be crowded for six months or more until the winter settled anew, a welcomed calmness around the venue but also in the busyness of your work.
During the summer, you didn't have any time for your hobbies as it was busy as it get at each hour of each day. You often worked more than eight hours a day as you were always willing to help your overworked colleagues either in the shop, the little coffee, or at the reception, diligently searching the bags with your little flashlight, looking for anything suspicious or sharp.
“Love is like a tree: it grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being, and continues to flourish over a heart in ruin,” said the stranger in a thunderous voice and with a perfect French if it hadn’t been for his slight accent.
Startled, you looked up at him. He was tall, his broad shoulders and his black hair adding something quite intimidating to his natural charisma. He also had a hooked nose which was nothing short of engrossing.
"I apologize," he said, now speaking in English, "it wasn't my intention to frighten you..." 
"[Y/N]," you said, your voice shaking a little bit.
He chuckled at that. He knew what effect he had on women.
“Nice to meet you, [Y/N]. I am Hans.”
He didn't know why he had given you his real name. Not that he was hiding in London. Actually, he owned a humongous and beautiful property only 30 minutes by car from the park. It was a secure place where he came after a rough mission or when he needed to vanish into thin air for his own sake.
“You're not from here,” you said, having recognized a foreign accent.
“Indeed,” said Hans who got up.
You looked at him from your bench. He was more intimidating up in front of you than before.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the bench where you were comfortably settled.
“Of course,” you answered, moving your bag to make room for him.
“So, you read in French,” he said as a matter of fact.
“I don’t understand everything,” you admitted.
"I believe so, Victor Hugo is a convoluted author, even for a native speaker."
“And where are you from?” you insisted, wanting to know where this delicious accent came from.
He chuckled at your persistence, yet he told you he was from Germany. Hans was able to imitate the British accent perfectly, but he hadn't felt the need to deceive you. You looked quite innocent, and you were. Anyway, how could you have guessed you were talking with a thief, a mobster, a criminal ?
He talked with you the whole afternoon. You understood very quickly that he was an educated man, with a lot of culture and a perspicacity you could envy him for.
As you parted, he kissed the back of your hand like a true gentleman, the one in your romantic books. You didn't know what had got into you to confide so many private things about yourself to a stranger, but talking to him was easy, and there was so much on your heart that you needed to confide. Maybe because you knew he was just a stranger that you would never see again had made things easier. You felt lighter but also disappointed to know that you would never see him again.
But Hans wasn't indifferent to you either. Hans was intrigued by you. He had already noticed you a few days before when you were walking in the streets to reach the metro station. You were wearing your work uniform, that's how he knew that to find you, he had to go for a walk around Kensington Park.
Hans didn't really know what had caught his attention about you. Your face was certainly pleasant to look at but it didn't stand out from the crowd, your stiff gait spoke volumes about the pressure you felt in your life and you had a disillusioned pout that probably didn't make many people want to get to know you.
However, there was something about you that had intrigued him. Enough to want to meet you at least once. He hadn't expected to see you sitting all alone in the Walk of Flowers. Walkers rarely sat for too long, the cold quickly numbing their hands and feet. And yet, there you were, reading your book, a book that Hans had read many times in its original version too.
He had been surprised at how easy it was to talk to you. You were intelligent, not as much as he was, but not everyone could come up with escape plans and high-flying heists, you had wit and a dry sense of humor that he appreciated. You also had that disillusioned look of those who had already seen too much to still be truly surprised by existence. Hans knew this expression well for having experienced it himself. 
It was a long time ago when he was a teenager dragged from home to home, separated from his brother, missing a father who died when he was only eight years old, and a loving mother. Their mother to Simon and him was an alcoholic who beat them for yes or no. It was often his big brother who suffered their mother's anger because he was not afraid to defy her or to come between her and his little brother. He remembered a day when his mother who had drunk more than reason and had just been dumped by her umpteenth boyfriend had destroyed the model airplane he was building for no good reason other than to make her son suffer as much as she suffered. She had raised her hand to hit him, but Simon had stepped between him and her, taking the slap instead of Hans.
Hans shook his head as if to make all those bad memories go away. It was a long time ago. When he was just a weak little boy. It was before the army that he had met an important man who was a member of German high society. Thanks to him, after his military service, he had been able to join the university where he had received a solid education in history, foreign languages, economics, and politics. Hans was intelligent and able to absorb thousands of pieces of information in no time. His eidetic memory was a real gift that had allowed him to join the Volksfrei where he had definitely hardened himself. So hardened that his ruthless behavior had earned him being kicked out of the organization.
He had worked as a mercenary for a while after that, but tired of having to answer to other people's orders, Hans had decided to become his own boss by carrying out his own terrorist activities with a group of trusted men in his pay. It had been a long time since the weak little boy had disappeared in favor of the man he was today.
And yet, your presence this afternoon had awakened something vulnerable in him. He wanted to see you again. He was going to see you again. He was going to make you his, whether you wanted it or not.
He thought about it, developing a plan to make you fall into his nets. He wanted to be subtle to give you the impression that you had had a choice. Little did he know that you were already partially won over to his cause. Indeed, the man with the imposing stature, the broad shoulders, and the nose of a Greek god had not left you indifferent.
He returned to Kensington Park two days later, waiting for your service to end. He watched you from afar to see you following the same path as last time to join the Walk of Flowers where you sat on the same bench as last time, another book in your hands.
"Did Victor Hugo get the better of your determination?" he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.
You jumped, which made him chuckle.
"Hans," you said, a hand on your chest, "you scared me."
"Sorry, that wasn't my intention."
He sat down next to you without asking your permission, not that you minded.
"So, Victor Hugo?"
"Finished last night."
Hans arched an eyebrow, surprised. You had finished one of the most difficult books in French literature in two days and after admitting that you didn't always understand the formal language of the book.
"Test me if you don't believe me," you had challenged him when you saw the doubt etched on his features.
He didn't need to be asked twice and had to admit that you had read the book, which make you be more surprising and impressive than he thought you were at first glance.
This little game of cat and mouse had lasted several months. Hans could afford it, his last heist, the robbery of a Russian bank, had earned him enough to live on for the next ten years. Of course, he wouldn't sit idly by for the next ten years. He wanted more. Much more. Millions to be able to disappear forever and live the great life he had always dreamed of. Except that now, he wanted you to be part of his dream.
However, how could he involve you in his life without putting you in danger ? And how could you never find out who he really was ?
Some of his men had a woman in their life. One of them was even married and had a child, but was it really a life to have to hide who you really are from the person who shared your bed ?
Of course, Hans had had many women in his arms, but never a woman he wanted to spend more than one night with.
Six months after your first meeting, he had invited you to his secluded house. A large mansion that could have contained your apartment, your parent's house, and your big sister's house all in one. Hans had cooked for you and charmed you a little more with his words that flowed like honey in your ears and his German accent that made you shiver constantly.
A year later, you were an official couple, much to Hans's delight, who for once in his life hadn't had to fight too hard to get what he really wanted. And God may be his witness, he wanted you, loved you and he would never let you go. You lived at his place and while he didn't hide the fact that he was a rich man, you didn't really know where the money came from.
Officially, he had introduced himself as a businessman. But you knew that something wasn't right in what he had told you. The designer clothes he lavished you with and the one he wore every day, the jewelry he showered you with at every opportunity, the luxury cars and the incessant business trips, something didn't add up to what he was telling you.
Yet, he was a passionate lover and even if you had already seen his bad temper surface when something displeased him, with you he was nothing but tenderness and patience. A trait that no one would have granted to Hans. He himself was amazed at how much he could be another man with you. You brought a calm to his life that he had ignored he had needed until now. You were the calm in his tumultuous life as a gangster.
You had tried to question him several times, but each time, he had turned you down, sometimes harshly and you had ended up understanding that what he did for a living was a subject not to be discussed. You were not totally stupid and even if you didn't know exactly what he did to earn all this money with which he flooded you, you assumed that he must be part of the mafia. Or something like that. Something that should have made you run away, but you were already too much in love with Hans, too captivated by his mysterious aura and the danger that surrounded him to be afraid of sharing your life with a mafioso.
The fact that with you, Hans allowed himself to be softer, and more vulnerable, only made him more endearing. Your parents didn't approve of the relationship between you, your mother having immediately had doubts about Hans' intentions. But neither he nor you gave any importance to what others might think. You wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything else in your life, more than you had wanted to study at a prestigious art school or become the next greatest painter in the United Kingdom. You were hopelessly in love with the mysterious German man who had captured your heart and soul.
Although Hans was less demonstrative in his feelings, he felt the same way about you. You were the calm, the peace, in his hectic life. He found solace in your simple presence. Many times he had told himself that he had to end this union, that he had to push you away, but each time he had tried to do so by being cold and distant with you, your confusion and incomprehension at his sudden coldness towards you had made his heart melting and he had always come back more in love and tender than before, doing his best to be forgiven for his harsh behavior towards you during the day with a crazy and passionate night of love.
Hans wasn't naive, he knew that if he wanted to build something serious with you, he would have to put an end to his activities and disappear with you. At some point, he would have to confess the truth to you even if he was well aware of your suspicions and how close you were to the truth.
It was on September that he had a brilliant idea. An idea that would earn him millions. Enough to ensure a comfortable life for both of you in Fiji or anywhere that would please you. He was going to attack the CEO of Nakatomi Tower. A high-flying theft worth more than $600 million if he and his men played their game well.
But it was not going to be easy and his sharp mind had to prepare the best of plans. He had already worked out dangerous, complicated, risky cases, but this one was the most important of his entire gangster career. When a man steals $600, he can just disappear, but when a man steals $600 million, he knew that the police and secret agencies of the whole world will be after him. Unless they thought he was dead. However, he was no longer alone now and he had to think of you, which made the whole organization of his plan more difficult than usual, even for a gifted person like him.
His brother had warned him that getting emotionally involved with you was dangerous for him, but he had not listened to him, sure of himself as usual. Except that for once, Simon was right. The love he had for you was worse than all the enemies he had faced so far.
"Another departure Hans ? You've already disappeared all of October," you said wearily.
It was the first week of December and he had just told you that he would have to be away until the end of December on business trip.
"Work is work. You're happy to have nice clothes, to parade around in beautiful jewelry, to wear designer perfume, and to live a life of luxury. Without me, you would never have been able to quit this job that made you unhappy and to treat yourself to these art classes that you wanted so much," he pointed out more harshly than he had intended.
But he was tired of your reproaches. It had been the same for a few months every time he had to leave. It was stronger than you. You wanted to know the truth, a truth that he refused to tell you and it hurt you. Yet, you loved him too much to have the courage to leave him.
"If you think I'm with you for the money, then you don't know me very well Hans. Keep your clothes and your jewelry. I never asked you for anything! If you did it, it's because you wanted to!"
"Exactly! The best for you is everything I want and nothing else. We've been together for two years, you're an intelligent woman [Y/N], and you know that this life that I allow you to lead doesn't come without sacrifice."
You didn't answer because somewhere, somewhat, you knew he was right and even though you were frustrated by his unspoken words, you loved enjoying the life of luxury he was lavishing you with.
You sighed, closing your eyes and rubbing your forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Hans came closer and took your hands in one of his while the other gently massaged your lower back.
"Mein leibe, I promise you that after that everything will change."
"How?"
"You'll see. In the meantime, don't give me the cold shoulder. I don't want to go to the United States knowing that mein pearl is mad at me. I won't be able to concentrate if I know that you're angry with me," he coaxed you.
"I'm not angry Hans, I'm just... worried and... I'd like you to be completely honest with me."
"Mein leibe..." Hans sighed, "everything will change, I promise, but no more questions for tonight, okay?"
You nodded, still a little frustrated by his silences that separated you more than they brought you closer. Sensing the distance that your disappointment was putting between you, Hans placed a series of kisses along the back of your neck.
"Bitte, mein leibe, bitte, don't be angry with me."
"Hans..."
"Bitte," he whispered in your ear.
You turned your head and he took the opportunity to capture your lips. Very quickly, your kiss turned into a fiery passion. He hoisted you easily and you instinctively hooked your arms around his hips. He led you to the bedroom where he gently laid you down on the bed.
"You can't always get away with a quickie, even if sex with you is better than a pizza from Rudy's," you said jokingly.
"Mein leibe, I'm sure that my cock inside your tight pussy is the best way to have you under my control," Hans whispered with a predatory smile.
You gasped and your breath got caught in your throat. Hans's smile widened even more and with an expert gesture, he removed your t-shirt. You weren't wearing a bra to his great pleasure and he immediately went in search of your chest to suck on one of your nipples. You moaned in pleasure, your hands running under his t-shirt to caress his firm chest.
"Tell me you want me," Hans whispered.
"Hans..." you moaned under his caresses.
"Say it!" he ordered while walking two of his fingers near your entrance, delighting in your pussy swollen with arousal and your wetness that wet his fingers even though they weren't penetrating you.
"I want you, Hans. I need you, I need you inside me," you said breathlessly.
It didn't take much for Hans to help you getting rid of your skirt and stockings. You unbuttoned his pants and he helped you take them off, while with a quick gesture of his hand, he got out of his t-shirt which joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.
He didn't bother with the foreplay, entering you directly. You were already so wet that he had no trouble sinking all the way into your tight pussy, moaning as he felt your walls tighten around his cock.
"Your pussy has been made for me, just for me," he whispered in your ear.
"I only exist for you," you replied, biting his earlobe.
He pushed himself deeper into you, the sound of skin meeting skin with each thrust echoing through the room, mingling with your panting breaths and Hans' deep voice whispering words of love to you in both German and English.
"[Y/N], my lovely [Y/N], if you knew what you're doing to me, you and your tight little pussy... HAAA... [Y/N]," he groaned, making you hornier still.
As you reached your climax, Hans pulled out suddenly, making you hiss at the feeling of his cock being lost in your cunt. With a deft gesture, he turned you around and, your stomach pressed against the bed, he pushed in as hard as he had pulled out of your little cunt, tugging gently on your hair while his other hand was on your throat. He thrust faster, again and again until he felt the two of you approaching your climax. He then turned you to the side with one leg between yours and the other above yours, one hand still on your throat, the other cupping your breasts as he continued to thrust into you at a frantic pace.
"Hans, please, don't stop... I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."
"Come meine leibe... Come, come for me," he whispered in your ear.
It didn't take him more than two thrusts for your orgasm to shake your entire body with pleasure. Feeling your tight walls contract against his cock, Hans was quick to come in turn with an animalistic growl.
He pulled out carefully and you immediately snuggled up against him, finding solace between his arms, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. You quickly fell asleep, exhausted by the passion shared with Hans who stayed awake almost all night watching you while caressing your nipples with his fingertips, taking pleasure in seeing them harden under his caresses.
The next day, you woke up alone with a note on Hans' pillow.
Ich leibe dich. Hans.
Three weeks later
You were in front of the TV watching the Nakatomi Tower attack, tears flooding your eyes when you recognized Hans. In the end, he was not a mafia boss but a gang leader, a gangster, a thief, a criminal. And despite this revelation, your love for him didn't weaken.
You couldn't help but scream when the roof of the tower exploded, leaving the building on fire, and when the journalists announced that all the hostages had gone and the terrorists were out of control by a hothead working for the police. Later, the man named John McClane told reporters that Hans had fallen to his death from the top of Nakatomi Tower.
You fell to the ground screaming before curling up into a ball, sobbing and screaming Hans' name until you fell asleep. The next day, a man came to your house. He introduced himself as Simon and claimed to be Hans' brother. You knew your lover had a brother but he had never told you anything more about him. However, something about this man inspired confidence in you. The same confidence you had had in Hans. He returned the next day with a man with a gaunt and severe face, a lawyer who had papers for you to sign. Hans, afraid of not getting out of this, had prepared everything to ensure your future without him. Considerate, he had left you a fortune that could have benefited you for your next three lives. Except you didn't want a single one of these lives if Hans wasn't by your side.
A year later
Wrapped in a thick coat, a woolen scarf eating your face, you stood in front of a headstone, in the middle of a small, poorly maintained cemetery, in the town with the unpronounceable name of Schkeuditz.
It had taken you a while to make up your mind and come say a last goodbye to him, but the closer the anniversary of his death had got, the more you needed to be close to him, even if he had left you a gift that would allow you to keep him by your side forever and ever.
There was only a first and a last name on the grave. Hans Gruber. No words in his memory, no flowers. Just an unfortunate headstone in the middle of a thousand others. A name among many others, a name that no one would remember in a few years. No one except you, until your own death relieved you of the pain of losing your great love. You would never be able to get over Hans' death, you would never be able to love as you had loved him and you knew that no man would ever be able to offer you what Hans had offered you. You didn't think about the money and the luxurious life you continued to lead thanks to his thoughtfulness, but about his charismatic presence, the strength he gave you with just a look and the unyielding love you shared. The intimate moments that had made you closer than ever and how, even when you had tragically learned who he really was, you had loved him even more.
"[Y/N]," a baritone voice said.
You turned to acknowledge Simon's presence.
"You shouldn't come here."
"It's been a year today. A year since he... Nakatomi Tower... A year," you said, crying.
"I know. But coming here to mope won't bring him back."
"I know," you said through a sob.
"You're not supposed to be associated with him. Ever. Not now that a part of him is alive."
"No one knows he's his," you pointed out right away.
"And no one must ever know. Go home, [Y/N], grieve as much as you need, then start a new life, forget what you went through with Hans, pretend he never existed, and never come back here," Simon said coldly.
You knew Simon was saying that to protect you and the precious passenger waiting for you in the back seat of the car you'd rented to drive here.
"Go get to him before he wakes up and sees you're not here. I don't want my nephew crying. It's Christmas, and on Christmas, he should be the happiest little boy in the world."
You nodded and walked away, but not before kissing the tips of your fingers that you then placed on Hans' grave.
You got into the car and turned to the back seat, smiling fondly, though your smile didn't reach your eyes.
"I promise to be strong for both of us," you whispered so as not to wake the child who was fast asleep in his car seat.
Your heart was broken by the death of the man you had loved more than life itself, but as a testament to your love, he had left you with a good reason to live and fight. An eternal love that would live forever in the heart of your son. His son. Your son.
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leggerefiore · 3 months ago
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Archer, Volo, and Grimsley reacting to the reader having a crush but not knowing it’s on them? In the mood for some silly miscommunication rn and I’d love to see them all be like “idc who you like haha” (actually cares very much)
I saw ur other ask so I got you lol
cw: confessions, jealousy, misunderstandings
characters: Avery, Archer, Volo, Grimsley
🎩Avery🥄
🔮 When you began seeming more out of it during your times out together, Avery first worried that you were no longer interested in being friends with him. He was fully aware of, while trying to ignore, the way he felt about you. But, it was soon obvious by the way your eyes lingered on your phone that it might be something else. He was quite a bit oblivious, in truth. The idea of you having a romantic interest in anyone did not cross his mind until you plainly said that you did to apologise for your absent nature while being together. For a moment, the psychic screamed in his mind for the abilities that the rest of his family had. Who? Who could you have interest in? He desperately needed to know – his heart raced in response to this, and his laser focus on telekinesis slipped.
🔮 “Well, there is someone I like… They've been on my mind a lot lately,” you told him simply while having tea with him. Avery's glasses could have fogged up from the temperature shift of his, quickly his face warmed. He nodded for a moment, taking in your words. Silently, he pleaded for you to continue on and tell him. For once in his life, he bit his tongue. Part of him desperately wanted to know, while the other half screamed for ignorance. You were too flustered, it seemed. He felt himself slipping. His feelings for you… Were they not obvious? His focus was almost entirely on you – despite his ego, he let you remain at his side so openly (granted, you did often feed said ego with compliments). He tried to think of anyone you could have mentioned that you would have feelings for. He even tried to turn back to telepathy, but he was still quite unable to read minds despite his desperation in that moment.
🔮 Eventually, you spoke again, seeing his intense reaction. His face shifted into an almost pitiful expression. Smiling at him, you shook your head. “I like you, Avery,” sublity was not an art best used on the blond. His slight inferiority complex did not allow for himself to put himself as your first option, despite wanting that most of all. His face became even more mortified for a moment… Pupils shrinking from the shock. Then, he felt his smug expression return. He blinked. Of course, it was him. Who else would it be? All his previous worries flew out the window in the face of this. Instead, he accepted your confession with ease. It was like he was never panicked in the first place. Avery knew everything would end up like this… A Future Sight told him, of course… He will never admit to his immense worry that you had feelings for someone else.
💫Volo📜
⭐️ The merchant is observant of everything. His eyes took note of every little thing – It was part of what made him good at being a salesman and his hobby of history. That eye for detail let him catch on quite quickly to who was a threat to his plans or who was not. You ended up being on the threat side – naturally, since you fell from the sky and seem to just have everything fall into place for you to dismantle everything he worked so hard to create. But, whatever bitter feelings were held mixed horribly with this strange affection in his chest. You were an outsider – like him. You both shared such horrible experiences of being othered. He felt this sick attachment grow deeper and deeper as he spent more time at your side. Your trust… He adored it more than anything. How you looked to him for aid… Which is why he felt himself pause when you suddenly exclaimed that you had feelings for someone.
⭐️ “I… I have this person I love so dearly,” you had told him, while staring into his eyes, “I don't think I can tell them. I doubt they return my feelings…” The first thought in Volo's mind is he certainly hoped they did not return anything you felt. Cruelty meant nothing to him – He did not want anyone else to be with you aside from himself. His new world… His initial intentions to remove you entirely had shifted into keeping you at his side. That was your place. It was with his usual amicable facade that he smiled at you and inquired simply into who that might be. He could give you advice, he claimed. He was familiar with a lot of different people, after all. You refused, saying it was too embarrassing. Volo sighed. Forcing you to admit it might ruin the precious trust he worked so hard to build with you.
⭐️ He then found himself stewing on it for days. Who? Who could it be? The Diamond Clan leader? He always seemed popular. That professor? It was unlikely, but he supposed not impossible. He found himself following you more often, trying to figure it out. Nothing came to him. Who could it be? It was rare that something was so well hidden from him. How could your supposed romantic interest be more elusive than Arceus itself? It was maddening. That was, until you caught yourself alone with him again. You shifted uncomfortably before declaring your feelings… for him. “I… I like you, Volo!” Those words… He felt taken aback for a moment before he could not help but chuckle. Of course… Right… He happily reciprocated your feelings. This was how it should be, after all.
♠️Grimsley❤️
♤ The gambler would consider himself a master of reading people. You, in particular, were an easy read for him due to your closeness. He understood you well. Which is why he noticed quite quickly when your behaviour shifted. It was not like he was intentionally paying too close attention, but whenever he invited you out, he quickly spotted how distant you seemed to be. The first few times, he shrugged it off as off-days, yet it was unchanging. He felt himself growing concerned before it hit him. Teasing you, he asked first, naturally. Though some part of it was definitely sick curiosity. He was well aware that he was straightforward in his attraction to you, but there was an obvious rejection of his advances on your behalf. He wondered who had caught your attention.
♡ “Who's on your mind, hm?” the gambler asked with a teasing lilt while he leaned against the table across from you. Your reaction was to shoot him a glare and refuse to answer. The subtle shift of embarrassment in your expression was noted by him. He wanted to chuckle. Really, who? He wanted to know. It would be a gambler to prove himself a better option, especially with his reputation and vices, but he would try. Giving you up would be a mistake that he would never forgive himself for making. His eyes narrowed as you simply denied that anyone was on your mind, despite it being obvious to him. He gave a smirk in reply.
◇ It did weigh on him despite everything. Really… He was trying far harder than he did for anyone else to charm you. He did not understand what would appeal to you. Truthfully, he was at a loss. Part of him needed to meet whoever interested you so he could grasp what they had that he lacked. (Integrity, he assumed.) But, it barely had time to fester before you caught him off guard for the first time in your time together. “It's you, Grimsley,” you said simply after he pushed you to tell him again. He stood stunned for a moment, mouth falling open and brows going up. Him? Really? Why had you…? He barely had time to consider it too much before chuckling. Well, whatever. He would figure out that later. It seemed that you were not immune to his charms, at least.
🐕Archer🚀
♦️ It was rare that he felt any kind of attachment towards anything unrelated to Rocket or Giovanni. But, you certainly had managed to keep his attention. An annoying rival – a nuisance to everything he worked so hard for. He only agreed to be around you to keep an eye on you. It was obnoxious, observing what you did and listening to what you said. He despised the idea of you pulling a fast one on you. Despite this, the Rocket Executive supposed it was not the worst experience. There were definitely worse tasks to be assigned, he knew. He knew you somehow had come to view him as a friend – how, he did not know. And, well, unfortunately for him, his own feelings began to make him react strangely to you.
♦️ “There's this person I'm interested in,” you told him during one of your various outings that you bad invited him to join you on. Those simple words had unleashed a strange sense of madness in his mind. Interested in? Who? Part of figured it would be good to use against you if you kept being a nuisance for Rocket, but the other half genuinely seethed at the thought of you liking someone. Why? Were they as good a trainer as you? He only wanted someone worthy to be with you. … And he only found one person worthy. Though, he dared not admit that to himself. He bit his lip and kept his cool facade to ask who it was. He simply needed to know.
♦️Your gaze shifted onto him as you smiled far too sweetly. It was not something that he often saw in his line of you. “… Well, it's you, Archer,” you admitted. He blinked. For a moment, he has heard your words but failed to process them. Yes… Him, right. That makes sense. Then it hit him. He blinked. Him? You were interested in him? It was like… a golden opportunity. He could hardly believe it, but he supposed you found him to be a friend despite everything, getting a crush was not so far off. He swallowed. The idea of being with you did not bother him as much as he expected, either. It was with a trained ease that he accepted your confession. This might prove fruitful in actually stopping you… And he supposed he was allowed to indulge himself now and again.
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renranram · 7 months ago
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My Barista ⊹ ࣪ ˖
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sfw
where quackity starts to leave paper hearts for barista y/n every single day || short btw
alex had caught an interest for the new barista from the café he had been going ever since he attended college
he liked you because of your personality, he finds you kind, friendly and approachable but never had the balls to talk to you unless he has to order something
“ look, why don't you just talk to them man? it's that simple, just say hi, i find you attractive and shit like that can i get your number? “ his friend, karl, states as alex groans out, fixing his earbuds as he glances at you
the man was in a call with karl, hoping for a collab but it leads on to him ranting about you, “ you know it's not that easy, i mean, just look at them, they're so pretty, and kind, and shit like that “ alex sighs out
“ be glad im filming for a video, if i was there i would be the one to tell them “ karl continues to scold his bestfriend, “ yeah yeah of course you would “ alex chuckles as he fixes his beanie
“ oh, what's that? “ he asks, spotting a heart shaped paper on karl’s background, “ oh, jimmy challenged us to make origamis and stuffs “ karl grabs the heart shaped origami as he got it closer to the camera
“ it's cute “ alex commented as karl shrugs, smug, “ because i made it “ he flips his hair as alex could only chuckle before glancing up at you again
“ uh… how can you make that? “ he asks, “ it's really simple! “ karl exclaims as he guides alex, gently folding the paper in even sides then creating a paper heart
and after that, history was made, at first, he didn't actually mean to leave the paper, he forgot to pick it up because he was rushing, but seeing you smile as you pick up the paper heart, he started intentionally leaving them
and you, didn't mind, you cleaned his table everytime he leaves, hoping he'd leave another and he does, it was kinda awkward every time he orders, the two of you woupd avoid eye contact but both will be a blushing mess
“ see! im literally such a pogger “ karl cheers for him, “ yeah yeah yeah, whatever… the only problem is uhh… i kind of… don't know how to properly talk to them “ he scratches the back of his head
“ bruh “ karl exclaims, “ hm… what about you leave your number on one of the paper hearts? “ karl suggested as alex chuckles, “ fuck no, and make them think im a creep? “
“ come on! just try it, dont be so ballsy “ karl insists as alex pause, “ ill think about it “ he mutters
he left two papers for you this time, a note and the usual paper heart, ‘ open the heart:) ‘ the note states as you slowly unfolds the heart, seeing his number wrote inside
you of course hesistated first, thinking this was just a small joke or a prank but you're unaware how he would rant about you to his twitch chat and friends, his twitch chat knowing you as ‘ his favourite barista ‘
at first your texts are very awkward, but the moment you mentioned a hobby of yours it just immediately clicked, everyday he'd go on the café daily, the two of you would chat if the only customer was him
days go by, and by just a blink, alex lays his head on your shoulder, “ happy anniversary babe “ he mumbles, smiling as he pecks your cheek
“ 3 years “ you added, intertwining your hands with his as you two sat on a park, just admiring the fine summers day, “ is it really that long already? “ he chuckles as alex sits up
“ maybee “ you laugh as you open your picnic basket, setting down the strawberry that alex would always order and some other snacks too of course
as you set things up alex looks at you with admiration and a smile, fixing your hair as he pulls out a paper heart from his pocket, gently handing it to you
“ oh? “ you ask, looking at him in confusion, “ you should unfold it or something “ he smiles at you cheekily
you slowly unfold the neatly folded paper, ‘ will you marry me? ‘ the paper reads out as you gasp, as suddenly alex was in one knee, holding out a small box for you
looking up at you, “ i know this isn't your ideal proposal but uh “ he scratches the back of his head as you tackle him with a hug, already sobbing
you press kisses all over his face, leaving your lipstick marks as alex could only chuckle, gently guiding you to wear your engagement ring
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mw4n · 3 months ago
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Should ¥XX,000,000 Make Fushiguro's Shit Worth It? - ch. 2
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༄ synopsis - Being Toji Fushiguro's in-house private solicitor may pay well, but recently you're reconsidering if the pay makes all the stress (read: Toji himself) worth it. At this point, with all the less-than-legal actions Toji commits on the regular, you're practically a certified mob lawyer. [ full synopsis ]
༄ series tags - toji fushiguro x reader; lawyer! reader; no curses; yakuza/organised crime; violence; explicit content; dilf! toji; tags to be added
༄ wc - 5.2k
<< ch. 1 || ch. 3 >>
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( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── \(˚☐˚”)/
It’s times like these where your brain disobediently begins to wander to relatively unimportant matters, like the chances of someone in the office accessing the printer history and seeing that you’ve freshly printed a document conspicuously labelled ‘CV - final.docx’ under your printing account.
Then, your brain starts to think about the chances of them bringing that up with your boss, and how embarrassing it’ll be if this falls through. 
If it was any other office, you’d say that those chances would be slim - if not flat out impossible. But your mind drifts further towards Usui, whose cubicle is parked right next to the printing room and has been known to snoop in the printer history when he’s bored.
That was how he found out one of your colleagues had been using the printer to print advertisements for their brother’s business: more than 90 flyers. 
Honestly, what kind of hobby is that? Browsing the printer history?
You purse your lips with annoyance at the thought, unaware that the slight movement has caught Fushiguro’s attention.
He pauses from his perusal of your CV - even the manner in how he scans your paper, one handed and casual, seems hot (insert dreamy sigh) - watching you silently over the top of the page. 
Finally, he speaks up.
“Something the issue?” The voice settles around you. The background noise dulls amidst the washing in your ears. 
Any concerns about Usui dematerialise and you snap to attention, not unlike a soldier before their superior.
“Not at all, Mr. Fushiguro. Take your time.” 
He hums, lowering back to your CV. It’s taking him longer than expected, but despite your shitty job, your CV is relatively impressive. It seems he also notices.
“So, Y/N, this is all well and good,” he sets it down, spinning it on the table to face you. He’s conjured a pen from somewhere and is using the back of it to tap at a particular set of words, “but what I want to know is why someone who graduated near top of her class from Kyoto University, excellent marks and sponsored by an international law firm, is doing at your current company and not… there.” 
The pen nib clicks onto paper and circles around the name of the firm. 
Is he even allowed to ask this? 
You stare down at it. It’s just a couple words - it doesn’t even take up that much space on the paper, but it had felt huge for the few months it occupied in your life. 
You’re not surprised he’s asking. If you were on the other side, interviewing a candidate, you would ask too.
The events of last year run through your mind, scenes rapidly unfurling. The sights, smell, sounds flood into you briefly. You resist the urge to withdraw and squeeze your eyes shut, settling for digging your nails into your palms under the table instead.
A scale sits inside your mind, weighing the choices. Either lay low, make up some reason, or be honest and risk… his disdain. 
The thought that he, like the others, would just dismiss you and think of you as another liar, presses against your chest suffocatingly. You can’t put your finger on why it would upset you so much.
So what if he doesn’t believe you? Worst comes to worst, you just go back to your cubicle and continue working. Nothing changes. The world goes on. 
You’re aware that the silence has stretched on a tad longer than it should’ve, yet Fushiguro doesn’t speak.
He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. (He’s wearing a loose cream sweater this time, of which you suspect is designer. It’s got these irregular and obtrusive stitches at the cuffs and hem, but the rest of the make is constructed so well that those have to be deliberate design.) 
“I… did go to that firm, actually. I received the offer shortly after my undergrad and it was only with their help that I was able to pay for most of law school,” your voice dries up at the next part. You hem, taking a sip of water. “But it was during one of my training days there, right before I was set to graduate, where I ran into some trouble in the firm and… was terminated. Due to the sensitivity of what happened, they settled for just revoking my place and the last tuition payment.”
You weren’t blacklisted, per se, but it didn’t exactly help that the people involved in the ‘trouble’ were pretty well connected. 
He’s not stupid. Judging by how cautiously you’re speaking about it, he knows it would be fruitless to prod any further. 
“Are you not allowed to speak of it?” 
Your face remains stiff, betraying no emotion. “I wouldn’t really want to.”
If he decides to take back his offer because of this, you wouldn’t really blame him per se. You’re not exactly forthcoming with the details, and that could be a risk in itself depending on the job. 
“Hm…” Fushiguro scans the name of the firm on your CV, imprinting it in his memory. Though he’s not the most well-versed in the legal field, being involved in a completely different industry of work, the name feels familiar.
You watch him, almost cautiously. His face is unreadable. 
Your heart sinks. 
-
“Do you have any questions?”
You blink - the only indication of surprise you’ll allow yourself. Have you passed some kind of stage? Successfully, at that? 
Regaining your mental composure, you sit up straighter, hands folding neatly in your lap and knees pressing against one another. 
“For… you?”
There’s an amused lilt along his lip. The lip, which you notice, has a pale scar in the end. You wonder if that feels different than the rest of his skin. Probably.
“Yes, for me.” Though he’s not smiling, you can feel some smirk-like energy emanating off him. 
“Ah, I was mainly wondering what kind of work you’re involved in. What would I mainly be required to do?” 
You can’t lie, you’re curious on why he’s decided to extend an offer, an extremely generous one at that, to you in the first place, given your relatively limited interaction with him. 
“That…” this time, he’s the one who looks a little troubled. “It’s mainly just small things. Representing me when some clients try to sue my business, or if something happens with Megumi again, I can rest assured knowing that he’ll have someone to contact that knows what they’re doing. Just in case the brat runs into some… problems.”
Your brows furrow. “Typically, Mr. Fushiguro, paying someone to be your exclusive lawyer is quite a big deal-”
He flaps a hand, “if it’s the money you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ll compensate you satisfactorily.”
“I am worried about the money, but not my salary. With all due respect, Mr. Fushiguro, what kind of business do you run that allows you to pay so generously and require a lawyer?” You hesitate before saying this next part, but this interview has been relatively informal from the start and - again, if anything goes wrong, you’ll just go back to your tedious office job again. “And… what made you consider me as a candidate?”
“My business details will be confidential. But I call it that just for tax reasons, it’s essentially just me being a freelancer. As for why you…” Mr. Fushiguro leans back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “... instinct?”
That answer was barely a step up from him saying ‘your looks’, and was hardly reassuring. You don’t get the sense that he’s as generous with details as he is with your future salary though. 
He must see the hesitant expression and deigns to elaborate. Though not much.
“Trust me, and in my line of work, instinct… is the difference between-” he raises a hand, drawing a line high, “-and here.” His hand plummets lower.
Heaven and hell. 
The reminder of your salary makes you swallow the rest of the questions back. No matter what hellish conditions he proposes or how hard he works you or how suspicious this is all beginning to sound… ¥XX,000,000 is a crazy number that lowers any inhibitions. 
An angel on your shoulder pipes up. But… what if he requires you to be on call 24/7? 
The devil on the opposite side smashes the thought with ‘¥XX,000,000’.
What if his personality as a boss ends up to be the absolute worst - worse than your current one! 
¥XX,000,000.
What if his work is… illegal?
You grit your teeth. 
¥XX,000,000!!!!!
That’s one, two, three, four, five, SIX zeroes at the end of that! 
The social media jokes about would you suck your bros dick for 20 dollars runs through your mind. That’s 20 dollars. Imagine this?
"And is the money… legal?” You feel hesitant asking this, worried if that’s an affront to his character.
He raises an eyebrow. “Say, how big of a concern would you say that is for you?”
our shock probably condenses too visibly, judging by the large guffaws that begin belting out of Fushiguro.
As you walk back to the office, your iced coffee barely touched and gripped in your hand (he had been smart to order both your drinks as takeaway, it seems), you feel dazed.
The concrete under your high-heeled pumps feels closer to clouds and a heaviness you hadn’t even known had been weighing on you feels lifted. 
The next steps logically present in front of you. You’ll have to type and present your two weeks notice to your boss, but Fushiguro said you’d be on call starting after this weekend.
That meant for your last week at work, you’d be working for Fushiguro - essentially two jobs at once. He hadn’t been the most forthcoming with details, but you hadn’t either with your past. And it seemed like his requirements weren’t that much.
Besides, it was just him and Megumi. Even though you were just one person, how much work could there be? 
You can’t even help but smugly think to yourself: this might be the easiest ¥XX,000,000 anyone’s ever made. 
(The you in the future can only look back at your naive self and sigh.)
--
The first time Fushiguro employs your services, he only texts you a location pin with four words. (‘My office. One hour.’) The notification catches your attention right as you step into the carriage of a packed train car, along with the rest of the 5PM rush, causing you to pivot directly on the heel and wrestle your way out. Apologising profusely to the others ,you have no choice.
You had just gotten off of work (it was still your last week in your crappy law firm) but Fushiguro had already told you at the informal ‘interview’ of the possibility of being contacted after the weekend. For that salary, you had no complaints of working two jobs for a week.
Judging from this text message and your first texting conversation, you can already feel that Fushiguro has a very identifiable no-nonsense minimalistic style. The lack of detail in his messages makes you want to grit your teeth, but there’s nothing you can do but squeeze into a different train line – enduring the disgruntled puffs and stares from the other sardined-crammed salary dogs eager to get home.
As you persist through the side-eyes from a couple of the older students, you reflect on that location pin. Why does his office location seem familiar?
It’s only when you step off the bus and approach the looming black gate, complete with two robust security cameras, that you realise that his office location is literally just his house.
Or at least, it’s the location that Megumi had you drop him off at a few weeks ago when he had busted his bike AND your car. The car, of which, was still getting serviced.
You had half a mind that the mechanic was an extreme slacker and had already resolved to never go to him again for any issues. Sure, the damage wasn’t small but did it really warrant more than three weeks in the shop?
Maybe you just didn’t know that much about cars.
Keeping your face as impassive as possible, you approach the intercom at the side of the gate and shoot a text to Fushiguro.
I’m here. What floor?
The message blueticks but no notice of him typing shows up. You furrow your brow, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard to follow up, when an abrupt grating noise causes you to jolt a foot in the air.
The black gate slides open a hair – its automatic – and you walk in.
Sidewalk-height embedded floor lamps light up the path to a two-story tall lofty glass lobby and carefully maintained shrubbery and foliage decorate the road in. The road stretches towards an underground carpark, but you just beeline to the lobby.
Everything about this gated community exudes wealth. If you had any doubts of Fushiguro’s ability to follow through with ¥XX,000,000, you don’t now.
Your phone dings again.
45.
You quickly text back asking for what flat, but upon pressing forty-five into the intercom, the lobby door opens automatically as well without having to input the corresponding flat letter.
A thought fills you.
There’s no way…
Indeed, Fushiguro’s apartment occupied the entirety of the forty-fifth floor. At this point, having seen the apartment complex and even how fast the elevator had jetted up all the way, your heart feels dead to the splendour of the rich. Instead you can only wonder what exactly does Fushiguro do?
The apartment door is partially ajar, light spilling into the dim lift-area, but you knock regardless.
A voice–distinctly not Fushiguro–rings out. “Come in.”
It’s Megumi.
You push open the door and the warm light of the setting sun fills your vision: floor to ceiling glass windows, the largest living room you’ve seen in Tokyo yet and a wall-mounted screen of the biggest TV you’ve seen ever depicting a split-screen game of Kirby beating the shit out of Ryu from Streetfighter going ham.
Where the fuck does Fushiguro get his money from?
You had been happy at the sound of ¥XX,000,000 but seeing the wealth is much different than merely hearing about it. The joke he made at the interview – “Say, how big of a concern would you say that (the legality of the money) is for you?” – is beginning to feel less like a joke and more like an omen that your money blinded eyes had missed!
Who jokes like that?
You had even googled Fushiguro online but had found no mention of any rich man with that last name!
Well, that wasn’t true, but the photo that had come up was definitely not the Fushiguro you knew. Some professor who lived randomly in Hokkaido. No one who could plausibly match the scale of the wealth you’re seeing and the name ‘Fushiguro’ had shown up with your research.
You’re apprehensive, but you’ve already walked into the mouth of the tiger. Might as well wander further in. Or however the saying goes.
Was that even a saying?
“Hello,” you slip off your heels, soles crying with relief at the action, and greet Megumi. “Is Fushiguro in?”
Megumi turns around, blinking in acknowledgment of your presence. “Dad…? Ah, he did say you were stopping by. He’s in his office upstairs.”
Up…stairs?
Stairs? In Tokyo?
Comically, you slowly turn to see the wooden spiral staircase that leads to a partial second floor that overlooks the massive downstairs open-space living room and kitchen area you’re in.
“Ack-!” A strangled cry catches your attention as some explosion unfurls on the screen in the corner of your eye.
It’s at this moment that you realise another teenager you know is sitting cross-legged next to Megumi. Tongue sticking out of his mouth in extreme concentration, Itadori’s slamming his thumbs onto the controller.
Your gaze pans to the screen.
“Who’s winning?”
The Kirby is clearly wiping the floor with Ryu.
You were a little surprised that Itadori was better at videogames then Megumi bu-
“Me, of course,” Megumi scoffs, haughtily, stopping your train of thought.
Megumi is Kirby?
You flick back to Megumi’s spiky hair and cold demeanour. Itadori’s sunshine smile. The cute, round and pink Kirby. The macho buff Ryu.
Maybe it does make more sense that Itadori would play a manly-masculine figure like Ryu.
Megumi as Kirby though?
Feeling like your characterisation of him has been momentarily subverted, you can only respond with an empty-headed “ah,” before you pad up the spiral staircase to find the office.
Fushiguro is engrossed on his laptop, an annoyed expression on his face, when you knock.
He skips the pleasantries, not even acknowledging that you’re fifteen minutes early, despite the fact you had literally hauled ass across Tokyo to get here without a car and during the 5PM off-work rush, and gets to it.
“I need you to do something for me,” he sighs, leaning back and pinching his brow. He directs a palm to the chair in front of him, so you naturally take a seat.
You slide a hand into your tote and pull out a small notepad, ready to take notes. “Yes?”
Fushiguro rubs his chin. “I need you to… silence someone for me.”
Your stomach drops.
A beat passes.
You clear your throat. You hadn’t exactly been clear about your employable services, and this… coupled with the wealth and mysteriousness that he’s been engaging… “What, exactly, do you mean by silence?”
Your voice sounds a little pinched. Anyone would in this situation.
He chuckles. That feels like a death knell.
“Literally.” There’s a roaring sound in your head. A million versions of tiny yous scream in panic around your mental scape, upending neurons and dragging their tiny nano-nails down your mycelium-wrapped cells. “There’s this woman that… I’ve had some history with, and she’s been yapping some falsities about me. Shut her up for me.”
You feel like an employed thug.
Shut her up.
Your mental image of yourself shifts from your beautiful, well-put together, but admittedly tired looking body to a broad shouldered, beefy moustached henchman. One wearing a wife-beater and yups ‘yes, boss!’ at every remark.
You look down at your hands. These hands weren’t built for tying the ropes around wailing victims in warehouses! These hands were built for typing on keyboards, gripping iced drinks, and spending hours writing on paper!
The image of the moustached henchman you comes to mind again.
You shudder.
A premonition, perhaps.
“You’ll need to be a little clearer. What do you mean by history with? Who is this woman? What falsities? And what do you mean by shut her up?” The last part comes out sounding near desperate.
Fushiguro looks to the side. At the time, you hadn’t known it, but looking back at it… that was a tell-tale mark that he was embarrassed. Maybe even he hadn’t anticipated that your first job from him was for this.
After a couple more minutes of what could only be described as ‘prodding’, you finally extract the situation from Fushiguro. The most painful prodding of your life. You had never known a client requesting help to be so difficult. Usually, they wanted to provide more details for you to get rid of the problem! None of this looking away, humming, twiddling thumb business.
It’s a hook-up. He’s telling you to get a hook-up to stop pestering him and spreading information about him. The same speechless feeling you had when you had seen the casual display of wealth from his house comes back again.
Does a hook-up really need to be silenced? Is blocking her not enough?
You scratch out that last thought. With your newest data on Fushiguro’s personality (this face-to-face meeting so far) it was unlikely he had her number to begin with.
Whatever.
For the sake of that ¥XX,000,000 you’ll just deal.
“Do.. do you remember her name?”
Trying to get helpful information out of Fushiguro feels like trying to cradle a wiggling cat.
“Nah.” He tosses a grape into his mouth, biting down with a crunch. The bowl of grapes had been produced out of nowhere it seems, suddenly spawning into his hand as he leisurely munches away. With every crunch of the fruit under his pearly-whites, you can hear the number of hours you’ll have to spend searching for this woman ticking up.
Had you really graduated law school for this…
“Do you remember what she looked like?”
He leans back in his office chair at a terrifying angle, thumbing at the scar at his lip absentmindedly. You feel a little ray of hope. He hmms. A sign of him thinking, surely-
“Blonde.”
A couple seconds go by before you realise that’s all the information he’s got (or willing to give you).
You know better than to ask if she had long hair or short. With how hard he had to dig in there – by ‘there’, you mean his head, of course – you were probably lucky to even get blonde from the empty expanse in the end.
You pitied the woman he had so heartlessly forgotten.
Clearly she couldn’t let him go if she was still yapping information, fake or not, about him.
“How long ago was this?”
He pulls up his calendar on his computer, squinting.
“Not sure. Could be a week. Two weeks. Three. A month.”
I can’t believe this man!
You sigh, deciding to put your foot down. This is the first task from him, and you’re fearful that this is going to let a scary precedent build.
“Sir, you do know I’m not a private investigator, right? You might be better off hiring an actual P.I for this.”
Fushiguro narrows his eyes like a cat, the edges of his lips flicking up.
He opens his mouth. A stream of unidentifiable numbers falls out, injecting energy into your brain with every increased digit.
“….!@#(% yen.”
That’s all he says, and that’s all it takes for your bending spine to crack straight. The countless hours calculated to do this job vanish in lieu of a big plastic beam on your face.
“Blonde, you said?” 
Walking past the living room, head full of thoughts, you almost smack straight into another kid. It’s a girl with an adorable bob and flower-clipped into her fringe. She’s wearing the same middle-school uniform as them. Probably another one of Megumi’s playmates.
“Oh- I’m sorry,” you apologise, ceasing from your wailing mental whirlpool of all the hours you’ll have to plug to find this mysterious blonde hook-up.
She stares at you, mouth slightly agape.
You hadn’t bumped into her that hard, had you?
“It’s… okay,” she says, eyes and voice dazed.
“Nobara- where are you?!”
Her docile appearance vanishes as she flares up.
“Shut up, Itadori! You’re the one who can’t even play my Ryu right!”
“You know I main Samus!” Itadori yips back. There’s some hesitancy before he speaks again. “Because she looks good.”  
“You’re so disgusting!” Nobara plants her hands on her hips, calling towards the couch area. From this angle, the tall back of the couch masks the two kids sitting on the carpet. Turning back to you, her ferocious demeanour melts away and now you’re the one dazed at how fast her face changed. She’s too adept. “You’re so pretty. Are you Megumi’s new mom?”
The minor squabbling in the living room fades a little in your ears, along with some colour in your face.
Huh? Megumi’s… mom?
!!!!
Your ears feel like they’re on fire.
How could- wha-
No!!!
“No!!! I just work for Fushiguro!” You rush to clarify, tongue nearly tripping over itself. “I definitely am not Megumi’s new mom! I barely know him!”
She looks unconvinced. “Uh-huh.”
As serious as you can, you set your hands on her tiny shoulders and affix her with a solemn expression. “Serious.”
She purses her lips. “Fine.” A pause. A sly expression. “Are you single?”
“…Pardon?”
Her eyes gleam. “Do you like women?”
“E- Eh?”
 “Nobara, knock it off. You’ll scare her, and she just works for my dad.” It’s Megumi who calls out this time from the living room.
The tiny girl deflates. Her hand grips your pinky finger and shakes it coyingly. “If you’re into women, I know an older girl who I think you should meet. You’re so pretty it’d be a waste not to have you in my life somehow, you know.“
You’re amused that this Nobara girl is trying to matchmake you, having literally just met you a second ago.
“She’s graduated and working already! There’s no way you can pair her with Saori! Saori’s only in high school!” Itadori protests, his voice coming through amidst the Supersmash Bro’s game effects from the impressive speakers.
His cruel reminder of your age shoots you through the heart, but he’s right. You have to agree with him. You can’t have Nobara trying to pair you with a high school student. Hell, even a university student would feel a little weird to you.
It’s less about the age and the difference in maturity from life stages.
“That’s very sweet of you,” you smile, eyes curving, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to say no.”
Nobara shakes her head fast. “Don’t be afraid! Be brave! Say yes!”
This time you laugh and pat her head. “Bye kid, have fun with Megumi and his friend.”
You’re too petty to let Itadori know that you remember his name.
Hmph. That’s what he gets.
…why are you one-sidedly beefing a middle schooler…
As you close the front door and wait for the lift, you can hear the tail end of the trio gossiping about you.
“…so pretty.” That’s Nobara.
“…assistant…” Megumi. You weren't an assistant though.
“…too old for Saori.” That was for sure Itadori.
The last bit makes your eye twitch, but you let it go. Sexual orientation questions aside, high school is way too young for you.
--
Two nights (sort-of) later, you’re hunched over your desk at home when you find her.
Your bangs are pinned back from your face by a fluffy hairband and you’re sporting a sheet mask that you most likely should’ve peeled off ten minutes ago. The only lights in your room is the computer screen (nightshift mode, of course) and the soft penguin night-lamp on your bedside table.
From the hours you’ve spent searching for her (thank goodness your time at your shitty workplace was over, so you didn’t have to be up early tomorrow), you’d long kicked off your fluffy slippers and hitched a leg onto your chair.
Now finally, unlike the four other false leads you had fruitlessly leapt at and had to let go – wasting precious hours – you’re sure that this is the girl.
Yumi Tsukumo.
Blonde. Hooked-up with Fushiguro at her house (the fact that they had hooked up at hers and not Fushiguro’s place isn’t surprising given what little interaction you’ve had about his careless appearing self).
And she was for sure spreading some crazy falsities.
You weren’t exactly sure how Fushiguro had found out. Maybe she had spoken to someone, and it had slowly spread back to him, but judging off her blog alone…
You whistled low.
Small dick? Scroll scroll scroll.
Unimpressive stamina? Scroll scroll scroll scroll.
Rolled over after? You slam your dinky plastic mouse on your mousepad.
Were these actually falsities?
You peel off your sheet mask and trash it decisively. Vindication!!!
Then a reminder that he’s paying you (with suspicious money) and you probably shouldn’t be rejoicing in this pings in your head, and you deflate. But then the pile of empty energy drinks on your desk attracts your attention and you decide to rejoice anyway.  
For all that work just to find this woman and the 2% of help he provided you, maybe you can be exultant for juuuust a couple minutes.
You scroll a little longer on her blog, admittedly some schadenfreude at work, but her privacy settings on all of her her social media has messages turned off. The only way to contact her is most likely in person.
You scrub her digital footprint for her address, a weird expression of uncomfortability on your face. This is your job now.
Now that you have her full government name, it’s significantly easier to find where she works. Honestly, maybe you should be a private investigator.
Satisfied, you note down the address and name onto your notepad and head to your bathroom to brush your teeth, pointedly ignoring the first rays of sunlight beginning to leak through your thin curtains. That was what your sleeping mask was for.
-
It feels a bit stalker-ish to show up at her apartment door, so you settle for appearing at her workplace. It’s a local coffee shop that you’ve never been to, but it’s the kind of place you’d go on a weekend with your friends – all rustic looking and calm.
You cast a glance, longingly, at the chalkboard sign on the street advertising some kind of strawberry shortcake. After what you’re about to do, there’s no way you can come back here anytime soon.
It’s hard to imagine that someone with Yumi Tsukumo’s online footprint works at a cute place like this, so you’re crossing your fingers and hoping you hadn’t gotten the location wrong.
You check your notepad again. You check the maps app on your phone.
Okay… brace.
Dressed in a pantsuit, looking as professional as you can for this, and holding a briefcase that feels red-hot in your hand, you step into the café.
You recognise Tsukumo instantly from her selfies online. The café’s empty, and she’s leaning back on the counter tapping away on her phone. Her jaw mechanically and robotically jolts up and down as she gnashes on what can only be gum.
She looks up at you and sets her phone down, dragging herself to the cashier with a bored expression affixed to her face. The entire café is empty. It’s an odd hour to come.
“What can I get you?”
“Are you Yumi Tsukumo?” You ask politely, nails digging into the briefcase even more.
She raises an eyebrow, the gnashing jaw halts. “Yea, can I help you?”
You’re silent when you serve her a formal cease and desist letter.
Her mouth parts as she takes a moment to read it. You can tell the exact moment when she stumbles onto Fushiguro’s name because her eyes light up in jubilation.
“Oh my god, Toji sent you specially? He remembers me!” She cries out, all excitedly, eyes still scanning the page. “Flowers, chocol…”
You don’t say anything.
Her eyes drag onto the next part and she freezes. The gleeful emotion morphs into confusion and then anger. She slams the paper onto the counter, hand snatching for a coffee cup slated for delivery that no one had collected yet and throws it all over you – outraged.
You really wish you worn a more waterproof shirt instead of one that absorbed coffee so well.
---
next chapter link (to be added)
(probably how Itadori ended up playing Nobara's Ryu instead of his usual main)Nobara: Itadori, why do you like playing Samus so much anyway? Megumi (already knows): ... Itadori: BECAUSE SHE'S TALL AND HAS A NICE BUTT! Nobara: EW! THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE REASONING!
༄ A/N - Please let me know if you think its funny... too long too short... everything... open to all criticism QQ hehe i didn't even think ab making a tag list but more people than expected asked for one so... here! tq for the unexpected support 🙇🙇
i am more active on ao3 so sub there if u guys want email updates etc ~~
༄ taglist - @ejwrsblog @twinky-wink @corvusmorte @gators-aid @theshortmuffin07
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tinydefector · 7 months ago
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I feel like it's so hard finding anyone who writes for male reader so I am SO happy I've come across your blog. I was wondering if I could ask for a one shot maybe of Rung with a gn!reader who also makes miniature models? I enjoy making miniature dioramas and things and was wondering if you could write for it. Thank you so much!
Star Ships
Rung x Human reader
Word count: 1k
Warnings: none
Rung masterlist
_____________________________
The human sits watching Rung as he wanders about his office, the mech mumbles to himself as he types away on a data pad taking notes after his last session with Whirl. His smaller companion had taken the opportunity to surprise him with a cube of energon as they sat drinking their own beverage. 
their eyes slowly move from him to take in the small model spaceships that are along the shelves, the last time they had been in here the area was rather bare while now it was filled with small models. "You collect model ships?" They ask while admiring them from afar.
Rung's optics sparkled with a mix of surprise and delight as their gaze wandered over the small model spaceships adorning the shelves of his office. He followed their line of sight, observing the meticulously crafted replicas that he had collected over the years. 
"Why, yes," Rung replied, a warm smile gracing his lips. "I do have a fondness for model ships. Each one tells its own story, representing different eras, factions, and adventures." He explains stepping closer to the shelves, his fingers lightly grazing the smooth surface of one of the models. His optics softened with a nostalgic twinkle as he recalled the memories associated with each ship.
"You see, collecting model ships has become a personal hobby of mine," Rung explained, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. "Over the millennias it's been my way of keeping pre war things, small glimpses of hope, for so much lost to war." As he spoke, Rung's gaze shifted to one particular model ship, a sleek vessel with elegant lines. It held a special place in his collection, representing a significant chapter of his own life.
"And this one," Rung continued, his voice filled with fondness, "is a replica of the Lost Light, our beloved ship. The model took me quite a while to figure out the design and craft it out, but I have to say it's almost a replica." Rung's smile widened, a touch of playfulness entering his voice.
"I must admit, I've been known to name these models as well," he confessed, his tone laced with gentle amusement. "It adds a personal touch, you see. They become more than just inanimate objects; they become companions, each with their own personality and history." His optics shifted back to the human, a warm curiosity evident in his gaze.
A soft laugh leaves them as they look over the model. "They kinda remind me of some of the dioramas I used to make, haven't made many after leaving earth, kinda hard to get the right things to make them, but the model ships do seem rather fun, I might have to get you to teach me how to do these ships" they state, fingers lightly dancing over the model ship.
Rung's optics widened with genuine interest, his smile grew, a blend of curiosity and anticipation evident on his faceplate. "Dioramas, you say?" Rung replied, his voice tinged with genuine enthusiasm. "How fascinating! I'd love to hear more about them. What kind of scenes did you recreate in your dioramas?"
He leaned closer, his attention fully focused on them. Rung's curiosity was piqued, wondering what stories and landscapes the human had brought to life through their creative endeavours. He had always appreciated the artistry and attention to detail that went into crafting dioramas.
"I liked making scenes from movies, books and occasionally just landscapes" it really depended on what had my interest at the time " they answer before handing the model ship back. They continue looking at the other ships. “ I have a shelf like yours back home, just filled with little dioramas, models and figures” His optics sparkled with a mixture of warmth.
"Creating scenes from movies and books must have allowed you to immerse yourself in those beloved narratives, to recreate the emotions and atmospheres that made them so captivating," Rung mused, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "Dioramas have a way of preserving those cherished memories, like frozen moments in time that we can revisit whenever we please."
"You know," Rung continued, his voice filled with gentle curiosity, "I find it intriguing how dioramas and model ships can both capture a moment in time, allowing us to explore different worlds and narratives. It's as if we're the architects of our own miniature universes, shaping them to reflect our imagination and experiences."
"Please, do tell me more about your dioramas," Rung encouraged, his voice soft and inviting. "What inspired you to create them?"
“well for me it's mainly the fact that each piece is a different memory, and well it's easier to remember things when you have a visually reminder, some are happy memories others sad but each people has a memory or emotional attachment, even the ones I make for other people”  He glanced back at the shelves adorned with model spaceships, contemplating the connection between his own collection and the human's dioramas.
"In a way, our hobbies share a similarity," Rung continued, his tone thoughtful. "Model ships and dioramas both allow us to capture and preserve pieces of our imagination and experiences. They become tangible reminders of the stories that have shaped us, evoking emotions and memories with each glance."
Rung's optics met the human's gaze, a warm smile playing on his lips. “Do you have a favourite piece?” he inquires softly. It takes them a moment to think. “my first ever one would be my favourite, not for the beauty but for the fact the first time ever making something means you at least tired your hand at the craft” 
"I can try and make you a diorama at some point if I can get the right stuff " they offer, 
Rung's optics widened in surprise. His usual composer faltered for a moment, replaced by a mix of curiosity and intrigue. He leaned forward slightly, his voice laced with genuine interest.
"A diorama made specifically for me?" Rung echoed, a hint of anticipation colouring his words. "That's a thoughtful gesture, and I must say” He paused for a moment, considering the implications of such a gift. While Rung appreciated the sentiment and the effort it would require, he also didn't want to impose on the human's time and resources.
"However," Rung continued, his voice polite yet tinged with a touch of caution, "I wouldn't want you to go to great lengths or expense on my behalf. Acquiring the necessary materials can be quite a task, and I wouldn't want to burden you with that. Your offer is certainly kind, but please don't feel obligated to fulfil it."
“Rung it's a hobby of mine, it's not a burden, it also gives me the opportunity to try and source materials, who knows how long we will be out here with limited things to do” they hum. It makes Rung smile softly. “Very well I'd be honoured than to see your crafts” 
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mywitchyblog · 1 month ago
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I love the dedication for explaining the most basic stuff for some of these shifters because some of them lacks common knowledge everyone is so attach with the past they always talks about you can't do this because this and that it happened to me happened to them acting like our cr is the only one who has a past in every reality there's a different race who experienced discrimination like all the stuffs that people reason on why people shouldn't race change but they forgot that in every reality every race, age, gender has a different past some realities gender is equal no one fights about whose gender are more important. In another reality it's the opposite of race who experienced discrimination. People like to create discourse because they are so attach with the cr all they talk about is cr. these people won't shift with this mindset it's very limiting they always let the past affects their journey they are the same people who affirm about not being in the past and that they don't live in the old story but still continue to get mad when someone want to change their form in order to experience infinite possiblities. What shifters need to learn is that if they always talk about being in the 4d and that they live in the imagination they should start observing 3d and view their cr life as someone's old story a character who will end their roles to start a new and better one never let the past affects you. Focus on your own journey your own story NEVER LET PEOPLE'S OPINION ON TUMBLR AFFECTS YOU block them and move on don't interact live your life you wanted it to be stop being miserable stop complaining stop starting a discourse but instead educate yourself read a book find a hobby that helps with your shifting journey stop complaining about peopel having different opinion as you those are just people on the screen on your phone don't let their energy touches you and ruin your day. YOU WON'T GET ANYTHING FROM ARGUING PEOPLE WITH DIFFERENT VIEWS OF YOU FROM TUMBLR. ALWAYS LIVE IN THE PRESENT DONT FORGET ABOUT THE PAST ONLY OBSERVE IT. If you're aware that you are a consciousness nothing can hurt you only your cr self gets hurt but you are a consciousness you're just observing your cr self just like your dr self your cr self get hurt because it has a senses, feelings and emotions it has a story a past but you already live now in your dr. In death only the body dies. Life does not, consciousness does not,reality does not as someone who died multiple times in every reality you're CR life is never that serious the Cr character dies we moved on and live for the next adventure we were never born never dies we just exist as consciousness moving to different forms bodies appearancess. The real power is not the method it's the awareness knowing that I'm Aware that every method works for me or im aware that i can go to my desired life just by living in the imagination and not relying on my limited senses.
Thanks for the compliment! It’s wild how many people need the basics explained over and over because they’re so stuck in this reality (CR) like it’s the only one with a history. They think if something happened here, it must be the same everywhere. Spoiler alert: different realities have different histories, and just because one group faced discrimination here doesn’t mean it’s the same in every reality. In some realities, gender might be totally equal, and in others, it’s flipped, with totally different groups facing discrimination. Reality’s a mixed bag, babe, but some people just can’t handle that.
What really grinds my gears is the fake moral superiority they try to flex just because they don’t race change or age down, as if they’re not out there aging up whenever they feel like it. Babe, this reality isn’t some golden blueprint—there’s no “original reality” that’s the end-all, be-all. That idea? Complete illusion.
And when they try to argue? It’s always the same old trio of logical fallacies: ad hominem attacks, straw man nonsense, and hasty generalizations. I’m just waiting for a solid argument against age or race changing that doesn’t rely on flimsy fallacies. Surprise, surprise—they can’t. There’s no ultimate right or wrong here—no supreme law governing what’s okay across all realities. It’s laughable, really.
People clinging to CR norms like their lives depend on it are either going to struggle to shift or not shift at all. Shifting is as simple as plugging into a different outlet—your awareness is the plug, and each reality is a different socket. Unplug from one, connect to another. Meanwhile, I’m basing my views on logical observations, and they’re acting like their opinions are rock-solid, when really, they’re about as stable as quicksand.
And it’s funny how people forget the total subjectivity of shifting before they jump on their soapbox. It’s always “um, excuse me, but you’re doing it wrong because I said so” (cue fallacies or their utter lack of shifting knowledge). Arguing with keyboard warriors? Beyond pointless. Block, move on, and don’t waste a second on that nonsense. I’m here for real debates, not this mess.
They’re obsessed with CR and all its baggage but claim they’re “moving on” or “not living in the old story.” Yet the second someone ages down or changes race, they lose their minds. Shifting is all about infinite possibilities, but they’re too busy being mad over CR norms to see it. It’s beyond limiting, and if they keep letting CR baggage control them, they’re going to miss out on everything shifting has to offer.
If they’re so into talking about the 4D and living in their imagination, they should start seeing CR as just an old story that they can move beyond. They need to stop letting random opinions on Tumblr—or anywhere—control them. Block, focus on your journey, and stop wasting energy on what others think. All this complaining? It’s useless. Shifters who are busy policing others are missing what really matters—their own dreams and their own lives. Educate yourself, pick up a book, find something meaningful for your shifting journey, and stop letting some random on the internet ruin your day.
At the end of the day, live in the present. Observe the past, but don’t let it control you. If you’re aware of yourself as consciousness, nothing can truly hurt you—not people, not opinions, not CR drama. Your CR self might feel the sting, but you? You’re a consciousness, moving beyond bodies and histories. Life, consciousness, and reality never end. When you shift, your CR self wraps up one story and moves on to the next adventure.
In the end, it’s not about any one method being the answer. It’s about awareness and knowing every method has potential. I can live in my Desired Reality just by embracing my imagination and moving past limited senses. Thanks for recognizing that—here’s hoping more people catch on soon. It’s time to stop treating CR like it’s the center of the universe and start seeing the limitless possibilities of shifting.
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