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areislol · 1 year ago

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"forget him, be with me instead."

ft— various male genshin x fem! reader (childhood friend trope)

warning — slight angst but it's just a pinch! comfort, mutual pining (?), smitten men, fluff, kissing. headcanons are a bit down! modern! au, implied toxic relationship

a/n— yay time to write some fluff after writing angst, what a life! listened to laufey's 'everything i know about love' album while listening to this ^^ this is a little bit rushed and might be a wee bit shitty but uhm please don't judge your girl was out here suffering

wordcount. 3.7k

synopsis. your boyfriend stood you up on your date, once again, and as usual your childhood friend is here to comfort you.

In the soft glow of the quaint café, you sat alone, your anticipation slowly morphing into a quiet ache. You had meticulously chosen your outfit, a delicate dance between casual and elegant.

You had arrived early, your excitement palpable. The minutes stretched into an eternity as the minutes on the clock ticked away, and the once hopeful glimmer in yours eyes dimmed with each passing moment.

The ambient chatter and clinking of utensils became a dissonant soundtrack to your growing unease. You checked your phone repeatedly, hoping for a message or a call that would explain the delay.

The vibrant ambiance of the café, which had initially felt like the backdrop to a romantic night, now served as a cruel witness to your solitude.

You take out your phone from your pocket, anxiously checking the time on your phone before sliding your hand back in, clenching it tightly. 8 PM. Your heart sunk as you realized that it was now exactly 8 PM, the time you both agreed on arriving.

You didn't want to jump to conclusions, maybe he was stuck in traffic? But then again it was 8 PM, barely any road traffic. Was his boss keeping him back for a little bit? Did the wifi cut off in his building, was that why he couldn't send you a text?

Despite trying to comfort yourself by putting ideas in your head, you had a hunch that he was most definenetly not coming, he had forgotten about your date.

It wasn't the first time he stood you up, as a matter of fact, he had stood you up many times but you always pushed it aside. You pushed his mistakes aside, why? Because he was your boyfriend. You knew it was wrong but... what could you do? You didn't want to lose him.

As the realization settled in, a mixture of disappointment and embarrassment clouded your expression. The waiter, noticing your solitary presence, approached with a mixture of sympathy and concern.

You mustered a brave smile and declined a menu, your appetite for food dissipating. The warmth of the café offered little solace as you continued to sit on your reserved seat, looking like an utter fool just sitting there, waiting for someone who wasn't going to come any time soon.

You checked the time once again, 8:10 PM, seconds went by, then minutes, and hours. You checked the time one more time—the clock reached 10:15 PM. You had arrived at the café at 7 PM.

Sighing at the realization that you really sat there and waited for your 'boyfriend' for three hours, you felt like an idiot. And even more of an idiot of the fact that you let this slide so many times.

You decide to leave the café, ignoring the sympathetic looks given your way. You take out your phone from your pocket once again, this time you didn't check the time but rather press on a familiar icon before making a call.

As you foot taps on the ground anxiously you wait for him to pick up the phone. You stand outside just a few inches away the café door, as you wait for what felt like an eternity all the emotions got to you.

Tears welled in your eyes, betraying the resilience you had tried so hard to maintain. Your emotions that were long kept in check, spilled over like a dam bursting at the seams. The phone continued to buzz, waiting for the other side to pick up.

The streetlamp cast a soft glow on your tear-streaked face as you lowered your phone, defeated by both the silence and the heartache. But just as the phone was about to go silent, by some miracle he picked up.

"Y/N?" For some odd reason hearing his voice made you have the urge to bawl your eyes out once again. You hastily wiped away your tears and attempted to sound nonchalant.

"Hey I uh.. I—" you paused, voice a delicate balance between composure and fragility. Sighing, you continued. "I got stood up."

Your words were short and blunt, but by now you were holding back a waterfall. You patiently wait for his answer over the deafening silence. "... Again? That boy.."

His voice was laced with annoyance, disappointment and concern.

"Where are you now? At the café? Stay right there, shit it's raining, make sure to stay under cover okay? I'll be there in about 10 minutes."

You could hear the sounds of him excusing himself from his boss and the angry cries from his boss.

"Aren't you at work though? It's okay you don't have to come pick me up."

"Are you crazy? So what if I'm at work? I'm not leaving you out there alone, plus it's raining. I know you hate having wet hair." Well, he wasn't lying. He was your childhood friend after all, he knew almost everything about you.

And before you knew it, just after a couple minutes of ending the call you noticed a figure making it's way towards you, umbrella in hand as he gives you a small smile. All the while rain was pouring down on your head.

is extremely happy that you finally realized that your boyfriend (soon to be ex) is horrible, he won't show it though. but he is really happy.

the first thing he did when he saw you absolutely drenched in the heavy downpour was take off his jacket and place it over your shoulders and hold the umbrella over your head. there were many questions he wanted to ask but the main one was "are you alright?"

yes he wanted to question about that damn lout (your boyfriend) but he already knew the answer. it happened too many times, way too many times. you and your boyfriend would agree to go on a date, you would arrive early or on time, you wouldn't get an answer from him when you questioned why he was late, minutes would turn into hours and then you would call him.

he wasn't mad at you, no never, but your (*cough* ex *couch*) boyfriend? absolutely. if anything he wanted to prove to you that he was a horrible boyfriend so he would always come to pick you up and try to knock some sense into your head, sometimes his words would go from one ear and out your other.

when you don't answer his question and begin to bawl your eyes out he immediately begins to panic, because you are crying hard. he only lets out a soft sigh before holding the back of your head and gently pushes your face in his chest, letting you cry into his chest. he softly pats your head in an attempt to comfort you (it does)

he resist the urge to say "i told you so" because, he did tell you so, but he knew it would only dampen your mood. he reassures and shushes you warmly, and his soft voice really does calm you down.

"shh, i know it's okay. you'll be fine. he is a big jackass alright? don't waste your pretty tears on him."

you both begin to walk together through the raining weather, he obviously doesn't want to see you cry so he offers to buy you your favourite snacks and drinks in a convenience store. you refuse, thinking that you already troubled him enough but NO he will not take no for an answer.

"trouble me? never."

and it worked!! your mood slightly lifted after chugging down your favourite packet of chips. in all honestly he found your puffy cheeks and eyes cute, the way your eyes glistened slightly from your tears, and the way you were chomping on your food? so adorable.

when you quietly thank him his heart bursts even more (like every other day he sees you) but he waves his hand, "it's nothing, sit down, lets talk."

why did he sound so scary? he would never know. when you both sit down on the ground, back pressed against the wall of a shop, he begins to question you. "you do realize that this is like the tenth time he stood you up right?" you nod your head sadly as you were reminded of what had happened.

he sighed, "i just want you to know that this.. you can't just forgive him after this, after all of this. he even forgot your anniversary! i'm.. i'm just worried for you. you know that?"

you knew he was only worrying for you and wanted the best for you. but despite all the other times that you would dismiss his worries and say "it's okay we all make mistakes" you really thought about it this time. and boy was he right.

do you know how ecstatic he was when you told him that you would break up with him!? HE WAS OVER THE MOON, he was literally on cloud 9. not that he could show it thought, you would be suspicious of him. but then again he has had the biggest and fattest crush on you since you were little.

but after that he tried his best to make you happier (even if he hated doing it), he would point out the most stupidest shit ever, "oh look at that squirrel, Y/N, doesn't it remind you of childe?" or "wow the uh, the light is really.. light'ing.."

sigh.. he's trying his best okay..

although it wasn't really funny, the way he spoke was most definenetly funny. when he notices how you hold back your laughter or even chuckle slightly that's just his motivation to do better, he would also tell you silly little jokes that he googled on his phone (while you were looking away) quickly.

buttt now he has an even better idea :) what is it you say? taking you out on a date of course! right now...? why not right now!

(please he's just really excited that you're going to break up with that old hag, meaning he has a shot!! he will definenetly give it his all to try and woo you.)

— ALHAITHAM, kaeya, WRIOTHESLEY, AYATO, dainsleif, NEUVILLETTE, CYNO, ZHONGLI, tighnari

starts scolding you and goes on a bit ass rant about how you deserve better than that (AND I QUOTE) "low life lout", he thinks he sounds all harsh and mean but to you he only sounds like he was really worried about you

"seriously, how many times does this boy have to repeat his actions until the truth gets through your thick noggin." he heaved a great sigh, a bit dramatic don't you think? he continues to rant and rant about blah blah blah you weren't listening. and only when he notices that tears are rolling down your cheeks freely does he shut the hell up.

"hey hey— what's wrong? don't cry.." he tries his best to act slightly annoyed because truly he kind of was, he hated seeing you hang out with your 'boyfriend', he hated seeing how your eyes would light up every time you saw him, the effort you put into your relationship, he hated how blind you were to his actions.

but, despite his tough outer shell he was really a softie inside. so when you began to bawls your eyes out (again) he immediately switches up, his voice that was so harsh was no soft and tender. a tone he barely uses (he only spoke nicely to you okay!!)

a sigh. "i didn't mean to be mean, i'm sorry. i'm just so annoyed that you keep on.. i don't know! i'm just frustrated okay." you were confused? why was he frustrated, shouldn't it be the other way around since.. you.. were the one being stood up?

he (surprisingly) wipes away your tears, cupping your cheeks with his hand as he uses his thumb to dry your tears. "i don't like seeing you cry, okay? follow me now" you were confused again, but follow him anyway.

he literally bought you back inside the café, the waiter looks happy and surprised (in her head she was thinking: wow so this is the fucker who stood his own girlfriend up?), when he was ordering your favourite pastry and drink he was really confused about why the lady was giving him such a dirty face.

"hey y/n, any idea why that lady over there is giving me a stank eye?"

he watches as you eat your food happily, he only hoped that you had forgotten what had happened before, not only that but he sees this as a way to show you that he would be a much better boyfriend, i mean look at him! he came (he would always come on time), memorized what your favourite snacks/pastries/drinks were, sat down with you. he wasn't trying to boast but.. he would make one hell of a boyfriend than your current one.

you noticed that he wasn't eating and just.. staring at you. "want some?" you offered, he shook his head no but you wouldn't take that for an answer. you shove a spoonful of cake in his mouth and smile happily. "yummy?" he only grumbles, looking like an angry cat. "mmm i guess.." (he really liked it please feed him more)

seeing you smile after bawling your eyes out and wasting your tears on somebody you didn't deserve felt like a treat. he also wipes the excess food and crumbs on the corner of your lips, he looked adorable when he was concentrating hard to wipe it off, and it wasn't like he was trying to be romantic as he wasn't maintaining eye contact, but when he backed away and looked at you and notices how you were smirking he scoffed.

"don't you get any ideas now." you giggled at his words and continued to eat your cake as well as occasionally feeding him as well. all you were thinking about was ow delicious the cake was but all he was thinking about was you. he was.. basically taking you out on a date. woah.

when you both exit the shop, you thank him for the food and also apologize for dragging him out here in the rain and how you got his hair wet. "yeah well yours is too. you can blame that asshole." he noticed how your face slightly drops, a solemn expression on your face.

"yeah.. i guess so." !?!?!?! you actually agreed with him?!?! HE WON AT LIFE WOOOOOOOOOOO

and now that you both are on the same terms he can finally talk to you about everything, but all the while he was explaining how he saw him (your soon to be ex) treat you, he couldn't help but also include his feelings. that's one thing you caught on.

"he forgot your anniversary, did you forget? i was absolutely frustrated! i mean at his actions, i mean his actions and him! i would never do that if i was your boyfriend. h—hypothetically."

you had a hunch that he had a thing for you, but not that big of a crush. maybe he was just really angry that he kept stumbling over his words?

either way, he told you what you should do you this time you listened, chiming in with your own experiences with your boyfriend and the more you did that the more you began to notice hoe you really looked past all his red flags.

safe to say he won at life, again, this time he won't pussy out on you and will for sure confess to you!

— WANDERER, XIAO, dottore, diluc, PIERRO, albedo

a bit... too giddy. willingly SHOWS and TELLS that he is happy. i mean not at you being stood up but how you're finally getting a grip, wait.. is than a "i'm going to break up with him" he heard?!?! GOD BLESS

he doesn't say anything at first, comforting you and drying your hair the very best he can (literally bought a book to dry your hair: swatting it), he lets you cry on his shoulder, letting you hug him tightly (not that he was complaining... oh did you just break his ribs? nah it's all good)

he lets you calm down first to the point where it's just hiccups rather than tears rolling down your cheeks (and when you could barely breathe by how you were choking on your tears), he holds you in his arms, rocking you slightly.

"okay, i don't want to sound.. rude but, i think it's time you start to notice how badly he's treating you. i mean, look at you, you're a mess (dare i say, a beautiful one), he made you feel this, he made you cry. and he isn't here to apologize. this isn't the first time too, y/n, i'm begging you, please don't look past this."

he tries his best to explain to you everything, what he saw, what he is doing to you, how he feels and how you feel (he knows everything shh). and you can't deny it, you won't, because everything he was telling you was true. and you hated how you couldn't deny anything.

he leaves you for a couple of minutes so that you could collect your thoughts and emotions while he went to go buy some snacks, especially some sweets and savory. "this should cheer you up" he says as he passes the plastic bag to you.

"oh wait i forgot to get some ramen, be right back!" you didn't have enough time to stop him as he was already on his way to grab a hot cup of ramen for you. he was just too sweet. when he came back with your favourite cup of ramen he would open the lid and blow onto it, he insisted on feeding you, saying that you must've been exhausted from today (but you barely did anything?)

you can't help but notice how... somewhat happy he was, normally when he comes after you call him (after being stood up once again) he seemed concerned for you, and he does look concerned for you, i mean he is always but today... he looked giddy. was it maybe because you said that you would be breaking up with your boyfriend today? so strange..

!!! not only that but he encourages you to break up with him, and he doesn't mean it like that, he just wants the best for you. and you obviously say yes because.. everything he is telling you IS true. next thing you know he's literally helping you write a sincere paragraph to your boyfriend on text.

"oh you should send a voice message as well, i think it'll really help him understand how serious you are."

you're too afraid to make a voice message? no worries, he'll do it for you!! he will send the most passive aggressive voice message know to man kind (he had to fight back the urge to yell obscenities over call). basically, this man is way too happy, not that it's suspicious or anything, just a little worrying LMAO

he's just really happy, happy for him and you! it's a win-win honestly. you finally get out of that toxic relationship and finally get a hold of reality, but also for him to finally get his chance to maybe try to confess to you. (one day... but he'll make sure to woo you sooner or later before someone else swoops you off your feet)

he's literally on his way to manifest for you two to be together, repeat after him, i don't chase, i attract (he literally chases after you so uhm forget about that please)

— THOMA, KAVEH, LYNEY, itto, gorou, KAZUHA, pantalone, heizou, VENTI, capitano, childe, baizhu

As the rain began to clear, only leaving behind a tranquil symphony of soft pitter-patters. You two stood next to each other, letting the silence take over.

All the while he was contemplating something, something that will change your relationship for the better or worse.

Should he kiss you?

For years he had always wanted to feel your lips against his but he was always so nervous to do so.

But right now? It was the perfect opportunity, the raining had almost cleared, the atmosphere was soft and romantic. If he didn't do it now then who knew how long it would take for him to build up his courage again?

All of the sudden he cupped your cheek with warm palms, the tenderness in his touch was evident even in the hesitant pause that hung in the air.

For a moment, uncertainty flickered in his eyes, a silent contemplation of unspoken desires. Was he really about to pussy out again?

You, for one, was a bit puzzled by the sudden shift in the atmosphere and his sudden actions. When your gaze met his with curiosity. In that fleeting moment, he knew he had to do it.

Even if it ruined everything he built up with you.

He muttered a breathless "fuck it," as if casting aside the weight of hesitation that tethered him, in a moment that felt like an eternity, he leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a passionate kiss that stole her breath away.

You were caught off guard, were you imagining this? No you couldn't be, it felt so real. Your heart raced with a mixture of surprise and delight. The kiss was passionate and full of raw emotion, igniting a fire within her that she was pressed so far down.

The softness of his lips against yours sent waves of tenderness through your body, and in that moment, your realized that this kiss was not just a spur-of-the-moment act; it was a reflection of the unspoken feelings that had been building between them for so long.

His touch was gentle yet filled with an underlying intensity, it was a kiss that sparked something, expressing all the words they had been too afraid to say.

You closed your eyes, allowing him to continue as your hands held onto his wrist. A couple of seconds passed by when he, unfortunately, pulled away—your eyes locked once again in a silent acknowledgment.

His eyes held such a fiery passion as you stared deeply into your eyes. He looked relieved as if finally taking initiative that had been weighing him down.

"I... But—" You were still left breathless as you spoke, you felt an underlying guilt, still not haven broken up with your boyfriend yet.

He understood what you were thinking and feeling, "look at me, Y/N." At his request you did so, observing his face and trying to guess what he was going to do next. Kiss you again? (Yes please)

"Forget him, be with me instead."

note: off to continue writing for my sagau now, this was more like a shitpost for the shits and giggles but aye

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: not proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me

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koolades-world · 1 year ago

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can i request hcs of each brothers with a timid reader who hides behind them or they like grab onto their arm or their shirt at all times if they’re out of the house. how do you think they’d feel?

hello! of course :)

this is such a cute prompt!!

enjoy <3

Timid Mc who hides behind the brothers

Lucifer

he doesn't understand at first, but tries to rationalize why

maybe you've chosen to hide behind him because he's the biggest and the scariest

once he realizes it's because you trust and like to be around him, he's secretly so happy

if you want, he'll even let you hide in his giant coat haha

Mammon

of course you want to hide behind the great mammon!

after all, who wouldn't?

he's a little shy himself about it himself because of the implications and how close you are to him

but he would do anything for you, so hide away!

Levi

he's usually the one doing the hiding haha

but he'll make this exception for you because he's lived in the devildom much longer and you and understands the feeling

he finds that it helps him improve on his own confidence because he knows you need him

after a while, he actually doesn't mind and grows to enjoy it

Satan

like father, like son he can't understand why you'd pick him over his much more amiable brothers

perhaps you thought his reputation and wrath could keep you best protected, and he's smug that you picked him over lucifer

he soon discovers he finds your presence comforting and actually unconsciously looks for you when you're not around

anytime, you need him, he's by your side no matter what you need

Asmo

it's too late, he's obsessed with you

will audibly awww at you and promptly adopt you as the introvert to his extrovert

every time he goes out, he always asks you if you want to go and offers to get you ice cream afterwards to try and get you out there more

you two are already an iconic duo in the eyes of the public

Beel

he's more than happy to be the one that makes you feel more secure

he'll happily and unconditionally accept you

he wants to make you feel welcome and safe, and will even go as far to share his snacks with you <3

if you ask why, he won't know quite how to answer. he just does it because it's what someone would want to do for him

Belphie

another confused one since he doesn't do a whole lot, and he y'know... so why him?

however despite this, he acts like this is something you've both been doing your whole life

you're more than welcome to do literally everything with him if you wanted since he doesn't want to drive you away

he's secretly warmed by this but he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to tell you

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me! shall we date #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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etherealrin · 4 months ago

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ᯓ★ thinking about academic-rival!rin

“you…you’re my rival!” an angry, red-faced itoshi rin had foolishly declared in second grade, after you’d scored a perfect 100 on the latest math test—he’d only received a 98.

rin hadn’t seriously meant it back then, but you took it very much personally. over the ten years which ensued, the two of you had developed an odd dynamic. it was intense, to say the least. you took the competition very seriously, taking every advanced course your school had to offer, and rin followed right alongside you. the obvious result was matching schedules; each year you’d chosen virtually identical classes. you’d decided to hate him, and your rivalry was no secret either, with your and rin’s name always occupying two of the top three spots in class rankings. despite that, he’d never done anything to suggest dislike for you. even the teachers had taken to teasing the two of you, they seemed to love pairing the two of you for group projects, watching you both struggle to outperform the other on presentation day.

“not again,” you groan as you realize that rin was your partner. rin mirrors your displeased expression from across the classroom. your english teacher smiles at you both, thoroughly entertained.

“you two will be assigned romeo and juliet,” she says, feigning indifference. you swear she’s trying not to laugh. the rest of your class inevitably snickers: of course the two who hate each other would have a blast presenting the iconic love story!

“no, no, no, no!” you find yourself telling rin as you pace around his room, pointing at his computer then back to him, anger evident in your tone. “juliet is not stupid, she’s only trying her best to save herself from never seeing romeo again, and inevitably divorcing paris,” you exhale. of course rin couldn’t be trusted with the character analysis of juliet—he was so cold that he probably couldn’t comprehend the idea of love. in your fit of annoyance, you’d walked closer to rin, fully invading his personal space. to be precise, your faces were barely inches away, but you only continue your rant. “you probably don’t even get what love is, just let me do the analysis!” you huff, arms crossing.

you’re met with his clear azure gaze, and, weirdly, he laughs, low and melodic.

“do you really think that?” rin asks, leaning in just a bit closer, breath tickling your nose. “that i’m not capable of love?”

“well-“ you falter, unsure of your answer. and why the hell was he so close to you? why did his cologne smell infuriatingly good, was it le labo santal 33?

“why do you act like you hate me?” he whispers. there’s no hint of mockery in his voice, it’s genuine.

“because i do?” your voice shakes. you’re not even confident of that—but wasn’t he supposed to be your rival?

“hmm, but i don’t think so,” he breathes. his fingers move to ghost up your face and cup your jawline. you’re hesitant to move away; honestly, you don’t want to move. the tension in the air is thick enough to slice and you can’t help but indulge in the enigma of itoshi rin—what would be his next move?

maybe it was all just a ploy to make sure you failed english?

“here, let’s pretend you’re juliet and i’m romeo,” he says suddenly, still hovering above your face. “since you think my analysis is so bad, maybe i’m a hands-on learner.” his hand trails down your waist as he speaks, his touch dizzying. you were probably malfunctioning, because you should have seen the red lights and sirens in your head. yet you’re frozen still, all you can do is stare back stupidly wide-eyed at him, letting him slot his lips against yours and you hate how perfect he feels, how he tastes faintly like the peppermint gum that you love.

it feels like sparks rushing through your veins, you feel high on something else entirely. you feel him smirking into the kiss, like he’d known all along that you would fold the second he tried something. because you had never truly hated him, not one bit.

you give into his touch, into the kiss, as rin pulls you closer, fingers skimming through your hair. rin was the smarter one, unfortunately. he’d known that your little rivalry was only a product of misplaced feelings, because how could the second grade him tell you that he liked you, admired that you were smart?

“you win, rin,” you admit once he lets go of you, gasping for air.

“…i thought so.” he replies. “is now a good time to mention that i might’ve bribed our english teacher for this project?”

“you what?”

a/n: i never forgot when lya posted ab this omg. ooc rin probably but idc! ugh i’m sorry this isn’t the best

masterlist.

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zevranunderstander · 2 years ago

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i dont think i will ever be over dragon age 2. like. bioware made an epic fantasy story about a chosen one having to save a country and stop the apocalypse and then they made the second installment of the series be about the sociopolitical climate in ONE city through the lens of a family of refugees fleeing from the war of the first game and just. made it about political tensions and class dynamics and the influences of living in a church-mandated state and the growing tension over an occupied piece of the city and political killings and interpersonal conflict and power and its story is ENTIRELY character-driven. it has easily the most iconic set of companion characters. the premise of living through a story told over the course of ten years and knowing from the start that something really bad will happen in the end was so fresh and exciting. the fact that the acts really built on top of each other andhow much the city changed over time. and the game was so mature in terms of the topic of fighting against oppression in so many ways (im usually generous and say that the short development time left some things a bit wanting), and as much as some people say that the game treats mages and templars as being equally bad, i don't think that that is actually true about the game and it very earnestly tries to grapple with some pretty complex political dynamics.

and then the game completely flopped financially and was almost universally hated for its queer themes and its sympathy for "terrorism" and a lot of the things that stemmed from basically having no production time at all and then the studio just made another epic fantasy story about a chosen one that has to save the world from the apocalypse

#myposts #da #dragon age #i feel like. dragon age origins is dark fantasy. dragon age 2 is a political thriller that is at times too really dark #and dragon age inquisition is a fantasy game with a moral complexity suitable for 10-year-olds #whose themes are all over the place and that has zero thematic coherence or any real vision for what the fuck they are doing with the story

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lulu103 · 1 month ago

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Batfam x Neglected Tomie Reader Part 2

London, midnight. The city breathed between ancient fogs and modern lights, as if the past and the present intertwined in every corner. In the heart of the city, a private museum opened its doors only for the chosen. Among paintings and sculptures that spoke of the fleeting nature of beauty, one figure stood out that seemed born to be admired.

Her.

The forgotten daughter of Batman, now turned into an icon. She wasn’t a movie star, nor a pop singer, nor even a businesswoman. She was something more intangible: a symbol. Living beauty, unreachable perfection. Like a vision out of a sweet nightmare. Unsettling. Irresistible. Unforgettable.

She wore black, a form-fitting silk dress that flowed like liquid shadow. Her hair, her skin, her eyes... Everything about her seemed created to provoke obsession. And yet, there was an invisible wall around her. No one could touch her. No one could claim her.

And that night, among the attendees, were them.

---

Bruce Wayne arrived with his children. The invitation hadn’t been an accident; one of the organizers was an old ally of the League. It had been Tim’s idea, obsessed with seeing her since he stumbled upon an interview with her in a Japanese art magazine. Damian came for pride. Jason… simply didn’t want to miss out.

Entering the hall was a moment of tension. They were not Batman, Nightwing, or Red Hood. They were Bruce, Tim, Damian, and Jason. Men who, for years, had lived immersed in missions, fights, masks... And had ignored the existence of someone who was now more radiant than all of them put together.

And there she was. Talking with a French designer, smiling barely. The smile didn’t reach her eyes, but it still hypnotized. Her movements were graceful, her voice low, charming. People surrounded her with devotion. None of them had the right to approach her. But that didn’t stop them.

---

It was Tim who took the first step. His heart raced, his fingers trembled. She saw him approach. Her eyes didn’t show surprise or anger. Just... emptiness.

—Hello —he said awkwardly.

She looked at him calmly.

—Are you here to apologize, Tim? Or just to confirm that I’m still alive?

He swallowed. Each word was a blow disguised as courtesy.

—I wanted to see you. Hear you.��You already heard me once —she answered—. When I was thirteen and asked you to teach me how to use a computer. You told me you were busy.

Tim lowered his gaze. There was no excuse. No excuse for such everyday indifference. And now, that indifference had irreversible consequences.

Jason was next. He approached more confidently, more determined. He had rebuilt his life more times than he could count. He didn’t believe in the past. Until that night.

—You look good —he said—. Like nothing could touch you.

—And you look exactly the same as when you pretended I didn’t exist .

Jason scoffed. It wasn’t what he expected. He thought she would give him a chance to redeem himself. But no. She didn’t need redemption.

—I’m not good at this —he admitted.

—No, Jason. The only thing you’re good at is picking fights. But you won’t break me. They tried. It didn’t work.

---

Damian watched her from afar for long minutes before approaching. He, who had always despised weakness, now saw a different kind of strength in her. It didn’t come from training, nor from physical pain. It was a type of power he didn’t understand. Something he couldn’t control.

—I thought you were useless —he said bluntly, as always.

—I know —she replied—. You made it clear with every silence.

Damian clenched his fists.

—But look at you now —he added, as if surprised—. You have no weapons. You don’t fight. And yet... you are feared. Admired.

—And you, with all your training, still don’t understand why.

That hit him. More than a punch. More than any battle wound.

---

Bruce was the last. His imposing figure approached with firm steps, but his gaze… his gaze had cracks. He watched her as if she were a mirage. As if he couldn’t believe she was really there, in front of him, so alive and so distant.

—I didn’t expect you to want to see me —he said.

—I'm not here to see you. This is my world, Bruce. You’re the one who showed up here.

She didn’t call him “dad.” She hadn’t done so in years. And that, for Bruce, hurt more than any word.

—I failed you —he said in a low, dry voice.

She didn’t respond immediately. She simply looked at a nearby sculpture: a faceless woman, carved in marble. A perfect, empty figure.

—I didn’t fail you —she said at last—. You just never saw me. And that... that can’t be fixed with apologies.

He nodded, defeated. It was true. No gadget, plan, or strategy could recover something he had never known how to care for.

—But I look at you now —he whispered—. And I see everything you could have been with us.

—No. —She looked him in the eyes—. What I am now is precisely because I walked away from you.

---

And then, among them, appeared Dick Grayson. The first. The favorite of many. The one who always seemed to have a smile ready, the bridge between Bruce and the rest. But that night, he had no smiles. Only heavy shoulders and a guilt he hadn’t allowed himself to accept... until now.

She saw him. And for the first time, her expression changed, if only for a second. A spark. A memory.

—Hello, little star —he said, using the nickname he had given her when she was a child.

She blinked. But didn’t respond with sweetness.

—That nickname doesn’t fit you anymore.

Dick nodded sadly. He hadn’t expected anything else. Unlike the others, he had heard her laugh. He had been the one to care for her when Bruce couldn’t. The one who taught her to do cartwheels when she was little. But he had also been the first to walk away. To “prioritize” other missions. To assume she’d be fine on her own.

—I didn’t realize how much my silence hurt —he said honestly.

She looked at him with something that seemed like pity... or maybe sadness.

—What hurt the most was that your silence was the only one that really mattered to me.

That broke him. There were no tears, but there was a deep sinking in his chest. Because he knew. He had known since the first day he stopped calling her. Since the first time he ignored one of her letters. Since the day he decided it was “easier” not to deal with what she represented.

—I wanted to come back so many times —he murmured.

—But you never did —she responded, with no resentment, but also with no comfort.

—Can I do something now?

She stayed silent. Then shook her head.

—No. The only thing you could have done was stay. And you didn’t.

Dick looked at her one last time. He wanted to hug her.

He wanted to ask her not to hate him. But he understood that desire wasn’t for her.

It was for him.

And she wasn’t there to heal anyone.

He walked away without looking back.

---

Weeks passed. Then months. None of them ever approached again. But neither could they stop thinking about her.

She became a cult figure. Her face appeared in art magazines, her appearances at events were rare but impactful. Every time someone mentioned her, the Batfamily tensed. Because they knew she shone without them. And that was unforgivable.

Not for her.

For them.

---

The last time Bruce saw her was by chance: a feature in an architecture magazine. She was sitting on a balcony in Florence, drinking coffee. Smiling. With a peace he had never achieved.

And in that instant, he understood that they had never lost her.

Because they had never had her.

She wouldn’t come back.

And now, the echo of her absence was louder than any scream.

Sorry if there are mistakes, I don't speak English, I only use the translator.

#damian wayne #timdrake #bruce wayne #batfamily x neglected reader #platonic batfam #batfam x reader #batfam x batsis #jason todd #dick grayson #robin

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yapileon · 7 months ago

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@TacklerCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 1

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader (first fic, be gentle with me pls i'm embarassed, also, i have no idea why i wrote that.)

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

While you had the tendency to be known as a cheeky chaotic teen, you currently felt anxious and shaky. You had spent three years working you ass off to be recognized in the La Masia training academy, it had paid off, since you were on the way to your first training with the senior team.

You're walking to the stadium when you feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket. You picked it up, smiling at the Mapi León wallpaper you had chosen weeks ago. You knew the pings had something to do with the meme you posted on your fan account, @TacklerCulers this morning.

tacklerculers

liked by 2,486 others

tacklersculers: Ona and The Flash have never been witnessed at the same place at the same time, just saying.

—

Like you thought, the meme was doing well, attracting multiples thousands likes from other woso fans. You couldn't help but giggle at the fact that today, you'd get to meet all of the barça squad. No, it was more than that, today, you'd get to become their teammates.

You were so excited when you had made it on the training pitch, you were the first aside from some of the training staff that you had greeted. You picked up a ball and started juggling, trying to get yourself in the flow. Except this is when you had spotted them walking to you.

Alexia, the captain of the best team in the world, and Mapi Leon, the arm-tape icon —and arguably your favorite player of all time—smiling brightly at you. You were so focused on them that you kicked the ball straight to your shin. Smooth.

"Doing good, rookie?" The defender had asked you with an amused look. Though her smile faded away when Alexia elbowed her in the ribs, frowning.

The sound you had made to answer was something between a hurried yes and a cat screeching. So you nodded profusely, not trusting your voice to not betray you again.

"Don't listen to her cariño," the blond had said softly, her hand on your shoulder, and at that moment you swore you could die, your life was complete.

"Big day today, sí?" the capitain added, dragging you toward the group of players who had started arriving.

You hoped you'd be able to find you voice again soon, otherwise today would only be a long and embarrassing day.

You waved to some of the players, high fiving Patri who seemed very happy to see a fellow La Masia made kid. You couldn't help but be star struck, looking around you you saw Irene Paredes. Wall of the team. And Ingrid Engen? Technically midfield goddess but honorary defender in your books. Really what would have the team done last season without her? You couldn't help but chuckle a bit seeing Ona, remember your meme from this morning, though you tried (and failed) to hide your laugh as a cough.

But then training started, and you were definitely better at football than introducing yourself, so you gave your all. You had warmed up with Ingrid, not like Mapi didn't try to get to you before but the Norwegian had dragged you with her, leaving the Spaniard pouting. You were definitely glad for Ingrid right now, you were sure if you had had to play with your idol right away, you would have somehow tripped on your own feet.

After the warm up, the real work started. You had been doing well, holding your own as much as you could against them, trying to time your tackles well, finding your grooves in your passes. You were playing a five-a-side when the incident happened. At some point, you had tried to nutmeg Alexia on a spur of the moment thing, and had blushed furiously when you had inevitably failed —leaving only Gemma to defend the goal. Which in itself was embarrassing enough, but you had recovered quickly, decided on fixing things, you had ran for your life, and somehow managed to kick the ball away from the goal line when Alexia took her shot.

Problem?

It has landed straight on Ingrid's back, hitting her at full strength.

Ingrid stumbled forward, gasping, and Mapi who was right next to her burst out laughing. You ran to them, mortified, half screaming a busted apology.

"Already trying to get rid of me?" The dark haired woman said, chuckling while rubbing her back.

You screamed, trying to defend yourself while slightly panicking. "What?! No. Ingrid I'm so sorry, it's the ball, I didn't-" you stopped yoursel.

It's the ball? Seriously?

Ingrid raised an eyebrow at you while her girlfriend was practically rolling on the grass from laughing too much.

"I think the ball did exactly what you wanted, little devil." the Norwegian had said smirking, leaving you audibly gasping.

"I- What?" You stumbled on your words "I'm an angel I would never willingly hurt another defender!" you added, gesturing.

Mapi, who was still holding onto her belly from how much she was laughing interrupted, "An Angel? You just tried to murder Ingrid with a football.”

You whined your disagreement, unaware that most of the team had stopped their training to watch you three arguing on the sideline, most with a smile on their lips. You heard Pina laughing in the background, saying something along the lines of you perfectly fitting in already. Alexia had made her way to you. Her voice surprised you when she spoke teasingly, "Would that mean that you'd willingly hurt someone who's not a defender?" You could see on the blonde faces that it was meant as a joke. You watched, half amused half desperate, as the three women burst out laughing at the face you made.

Thankfully for you, the Norwegian did not seem to hold a grudge for the way you had attacked her with the football, leaving the training session to continue.

It was the end of the day and you were making your way to the locker room when Mapi had ran to you. She ruffled your hair, putting her arm around your shoulder when she was satisfied, "You did good today kid, looks like you might have a nice future ahead of you."

Your mouth fell open, before you started scrambling to say thank you. You just couldn't believe Mapi of all people was the one to compliment you. All the team had welcomed you with open arms, pulling you in conversation, praising you when you did well, giving you tips when you were struggling. You always knew they were good people, but witnessing it first hand was leaving you a bit emotional.

You guessed your starstruck eyes were obvious when Frido, who was passing you to sit at her locker said, "Well, no need to ask who your favourite player is, uh?" You felt your body shrink in your seat and went straight back to blushing as the team giggled. After the first moment of embarrassment, you laughed with them.

You had behave fairly well, until you were presented with the perfect opportunity by Irene, feeling like the team had a good vibe, you decided to show a bit of mischief.

"So," Irene asked curiously, "what made you decide to be a defender?"

You froze for a second, your filter failing you, before smirking. "Because defenders are the hottest."

You saw Mapi nearly choke on her water while the whole team burst out laughing. And suddenly you felt very proud of yourself. You laughed with them while kicking away your cleats.

The tattooed Spaniard had recovered from her cough, tears in her eyes, "You're a cheeky thing, aren't you?"

You smiled, wiggling your eyebrows, "I mean… am I wrong?"

"No lies detected," Ingrid chimed in with a wink, making everyone laugh harder.

You leaned back into your locker, not believing how well you were going along with the team. That's when you saw Aitana giggling and grabbing Ona by the sleeve. "Look! Someone edited you on a The Flash meme!"

Uh oh.

pt. 2

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 2 years ago

Text

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT ─── cillian murphy ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I am turned inside out by the ache in your voice, the taste of your tongue." — ‘Afternoon Masala: Poems’, Vandana Khanna

pairing. cillian murphy x actor!reader

summary. you and your co-star, cillian, are having a hard time performing a sex scene for your movie. they do say, however, practice makes perfect.

warnings. swearing, thigh-riding, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, mentioned/implied age gap, probably inaccurate depictions of actor-life, mirror sex, slight breeding kink, kinda innocent reader(?), AU cillian murphy (not married/no kids), SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is not in any way meant to disrespect cillians wife😭 i js made this a not married AU to be convenient!

“Cut - cut, cut!” The director repeated, his increasing irritation colouring his voice completely. “Now, I said it earlier, but—“

You scrubbed your face with a sigh, getting up off of Cillian and the desk, who was propping himself up by the elbows. “It’s not passionate enough,” you finished flatly for your director, who nodded earnestly.

“I promise, this is as tiring for me as it is for you. Remember,” the director continued, the script half curled in his hands and making a thin flapping noise, “it’s the culmination of six months of pining. Six months of taboo, unrelenting, electric tension. Nothing more than stares in class and brief touches- you are supposed to be bordering feral for one another.”

You, and your co-star, Cillian, were currently filming the first sex scene of a movie portraying the forbidden, toxic love affair between a barely 18 teenage student and her much older teacher. Well, not exactly filming- you weren’t getting far with the scene, for the two of you just couldn’t get it right. Or, as the director liked to say, passionate enough.

The role was already incredibly taxing, even without the added stress of the sex scene: it was 20 hour work days, living on set in a trailer far from home, having to devote at least half of those hours to filming this very sex scene, and had a perfectionist director like yours.

The problem was that it was long, and the director wanted it done in one take. Brilliant man, he was, and had a love for this project you wished every director had for theirs, but he was adamant on it being done perfectly. He said it was intended to be the “primary and most iconic” scene of the entire film, for it was the crux of the story; the point of no return for the characters.

“With all due respect, I’ve never imagined such a scenario, much less had experience. Just how can you expect me to portray a student-teacher romance accurately?“

“That’s your job: to imagine and perform.” The director demanded, obviously up to his ears in frustration.

Just before you retorted irately, Cillian cut in smoothly. “I think what she means,” he said, watching the veins in the director’s forehead nearly burst, “is that it’s hard to perform because it’s not common. S’easy to act in love because there’s love all around, yeah? We don’t have much to go off of, visually.”

The director’s gaze rapidly flitted between you and Cillian for a moment, before letting go of his anger and sighing wearily. “You’ve never even thought about a superior that way? Someone older than you?” he pressed, obviously joking and trying to lighten the set’s mood.

You paused, and tried not to look at Cillian, your blatantly gorgeous forty-something co-star who was chosen for this role firstly, because of his stellar acting and secondly, because of how fucking attractive he was.

His character was a total fucking creep, and you knew casting Cillian had been a calculated choice; all in the name of making the audience’s guard come down to be smacked in the face by his immorality later. He was meant to be charming, handsome, and terribly, totally, off-limits: the object of completely forbidden desire, the line your character was desperate to cross.

It seemed the same in real life, too: the young inexperienced actress wanting to ignore those societal niceties and pine wholeheartedly over the middle-aged actor with decades of knowledge under his belt.

You weren’t, like, in love or anything, but you certainly reveled in his presence: he was patient, kind, and completely understanding of your lack of experience, always guiding you through all the steps an actor takes during filming like when to take off hair and makeup, what best to say to family and friends prying for details- all the things, he said, he wished someone told him when he was first starting out.

You were afraid you two had unknowingly fallen into a mentor-mentee dynamic, but there were always those spare moments, between hearty fits of laughter and silly conversation that you’d never expected to come from such an intimidating man as Cillian, where his rough hands would brush past your waist, gaze dragging up and down your body, sounding sensual and provocative despite nothing dirty leaving his mouth at all.

He made your insides pulse, especially when your more intimate scenes came about, and you could only have a lusting woman’s pipedream that he felt the same.

You still remember the first sequence you’d done with him: in the movie, your characters met after-class to make up for a missed exam, and it was the start of their corrupt attraction. Cillian had been pressed against your back, leaning over you to pressuringly peer at the test, large hand gripping your shoulder. The air felt steamy then, his body warm, low voice making you feel lightheaded as he recited his lines.

You shivered at the remembrance of the moment, coming back to reality, and you answered the director’s question with a vehement shake of the head.

The director let out a (strained) laugh, and smacked his palm lightly with the script, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Okay, we’ll - we’ll break for today. Take this extra time to imagine, research, anything- just practice the scene, alright? Practice makes perfect.”

You and Cillian nodded simultaneously, giving eachother a look that just screamed “he’s ridiculous” before tearing away from each other's stare to return to your trailers.

Later, you were getting ready to go to bed, peeling your freshly showered hair out of a small towel, when there was a knock at your trailer door.

“One second,” you called out, pulling on your silk sleep shorts. You vaguely registered how awkward it might be to be seen in your pajamas if the director or one of your fellow actors came about, but you were way too tired to care.

You did care, however, self-consciously crossing your arms and covering your thinly-clothed chest, when you opened the door and there on the steps stood your co-star, Cillian.

Before speaking, he looked you up and down, icy blue eyes gleaming behind an unfamiliar pair of tortoise shell frames. “You goin’ to bed?” he finally asked, tone husky.

His gaze lingered on the bare skin of your legs for a few seconds longer and you shifted uncomfortably, crossing your ankles together in a poor attempt to hide yourself.

“What do you need?” you asked briskly, more sharp than you meant it to be.

“Sorry,” he corrected himself, shaking his head and finally looking you in the eye. “I meant’a come by earlier… got caught up. I know this, ah, sex scene is tripping us up, so…” he trailed off, lifting up the white script he’d been holding behind his back. “Y’up for some practice?”

You blinked rapidly at the simple, innocent request. Mere rehearsal, not some lecherous late-night escapade you’d been dreaming up in your mind. “Oh… yes, of course,” you nodded numbly, moving out of the way to let him step in.

Only moments later, when he’d perched onto the edge of your vanity — looking uniquely casual in what you assumed was his version of pajamas: baggy gray sweatpants and a fitted, well-worn black t-shirt — did you realize the connotations of rehearsing your sex scene.

Sure, it was all pre-determined, every word you’d say and every action you’d perform, but still. Saying- and doing, such suggestive things after-hours? That was beyond your dirtiest fantasies.

However, you shook yourself internally: Cillian had come to rehearse the scene with professional intentions. Honestly, he’d probably done so because he was tired of you messing up the scene. He could do his own part masterfully, and you knew that if it’d been a better, more experienced actress by his side, filming would’ve moved on ages ago.

You took shaky, tentative steps near him, settling on your bed, watching him flip through the script— when he looked up and frowned.

“What’re you doing? Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, almost a command. “We don’t have a desk, so we can use your vanity.”

You nodded, biting your lip and nervously complying with his words. “So, we’ll start from the beginning?” you asked, your voice -- and legs -- suddenly feeling terribly weak.

His eyes were still trained on the paper as he answered. “Not necessarily. The sex part s’really the only thing we’re having trouble with, yeah?”

You gulped, throat dry. “Yeah, I guess so.”

With that, he chanced one last look at the script, before diving into the scene. His actions were ones you were extremely familiar with, having attempted this scene everyday for at least a week now.

His body turned to yours, hands coming up to your jaw, and pressing your back onto the table slightly. He held you tightly, and made you look at him, while delivering his lines softly, memorable Irish accent replaced by his character’s generic American one.

Jiltedly, you did the same, poorly remembering what you needed to say and dragging through it like some amateur. “Fuck, sorry,” you cursed suddenly, tearing away from his touch and sighing.

He gave you a small, careful smile, immediately breaking out of character and taking a step away from the vanity. “No need t’be nervous. Practice makes perfect, right?”

You snorted at his quoting of the director. “I just… I don’t know what he means by passionate. I’m trying to be professional about this but - but I’ve seriously never been in some steamy love-affair.”

“Can’t really expect that of you, can we? You’re too young, too much’ve a good girl for that kinda ‘ting.” He said, hand coming up to your shoulder, the one where your silk tanktop’s spaghetti strap had slipped off, rubbing it soothingly.

You practically melted into a puddle at both the pet name and how the rough pads of his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin. You were so entranced you almost whined when he stopped and pulled up your fallen strap, but instead you wordlessly snatched the script that was dropped onto the table and found one of the lines, inhaling sharply and readying yourself.

Your hand came up to tug on the sleeve of Cillian’s shirt, as dictated by the script. “Sir, please,” you whispered out in your character’s high pitched voice, “I - I… want you to touch me.”

“This is -- wrong. I’m your teacher, and I…” Cillian responded, swiftly back in character, the back of his palm grazing your cheek. “I gotta break your heart, darling.”

You looked up at Cillian, summoning crocodile tears to fill your gaze. “Please. I need you.” Then, one of your clammy hands ran down Cillian’s chest as you spoke, like it did back on set. “I think of you, at night. I soaked through my shorts the day you scolded me.”

You heard Cillian’s breath hitch- his character, you reminded yourself. “Fucking hell… I think of you in class, sweetheart,” he growled out perfectly.

So far, so good, you thought. It wasn’t awkward, and was already miles better than the lackluster performances you’d given previously. You continued by leaning into Cillian’s touch, making him sit on the vanity— the part of the scene you’d gotten to this morning, before the director called cut.

This time, however, Cillian’s actions differed from the ones he was supposed to perform: instead of petting the crown of your head, his fingers trailed down your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ll be good for you, sir,” you recited, face growing hot as his hand inched closer to the curve of your ass. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Cillian’s gaze had darkened now, flitting over your features. He didn’t say his line - or, had at least missed the timing, and you removed your hands from his body worriedly. “Are you alright—“

Before you could finish your sentence, Cillian had grabbed you by the ass, switching your places and setting you down on the edge of the vanity.

“Cillian!“ you squeaked out, the only thing you could really say as you processed what exactly just happened. Your mind was swimming with confusion — and anticipation — as he stood before you, legs pressing on either side of your knees and trapping you on the vanity.

“Improv,” he promised quietly in his telltale Irish accent, a sly wink appearing on his sharp features.

You bit your lip, nodded, and repeated your line. You trusted him to guide you — and the rehearsal — because, as mentioned before, he did these kinds of things often. If he thought you’d act better if you sat on the vanity, you’d sit on the vanity.

His hand then pet your hair, the other hand coming up to your chin and making you look up at him. “Whatever I want?” he murmured, back on track with the script.

You bat your lashes at him. “Everything. I’m yours.”

Now, this is where you thought Cillian would stop— because after your line came the kissing and the touching and the heavy petting: all things you thus far hadn’t filmed at all, because you couldn’t even get the dialogue out right.

Instead, he leaned down and began to press hungry kisses down your neck, making you gasp.

“What are you—“

“Shh,” he demanded softly, “it's all part of the scene, remember?”

You blinked dumbly, mouth opening and closing, unable to register a coherent thought or word. He said it was part of the scene but you’d read that script, and his teeth nipping lightly at your skin was not written anywhere within it.

But, you gulped down your thoughts, and belted out several more of your lines in tandem to his own. With his other hand gripping your thigh so tight you thought it might bruise, you were starting to think that maybe this was one of those lecherous late-night escapades you were dreaming of.

All you’d been doing was acting, like he’d asked, but still, you could see clear as day how that’d affect him— how easily it could be to succumb. After all, you were just barely restraining yourself from jumping his bones: how could you not, with his gorgeous face just inches away from yours?

Well, acting or not, you’d enjoy every minute of this.

When one of his hands began playing with the waistband of your shorts as he suckled on your pulse, that just right spot on your neck, you couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth.

However, the noise seemed to startle him; jumpshock him back to reality, and your suspicions became completely confirmed when he pulled away from you roughly.

“Fuck, I’m—“ a pained grimace washed over his features, looking you up and down like he just realized what he’d been doing. “I don’t know what came over me, I— shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

You stared at him, body disappointed at the lack of touch, watching him press his pink lips into a conflicted white line. “What - what d’you mean?”

His gaze coursed over your every feature, so intently you thought he was admiring your face. “I can’t— we can’t happen. Y’too young, you’re, you’re too…”

“Then we can stop. If that’s what you want,” you murmured coyly, hand coming up to pick a piece of thread off his thin shirt. “But only if you ask. C’mon, say it: I don’t want you and I want this to stop.”

He groaned, biting his lip. “Don’t do that. I can’t do that.”

“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side.

“Tease. Because you know I won’t tell you to stop. ‘Cause I won’t be able to fucking control m’self,” he grumbled, before pressing a desperate, deep kiss to your lips, pulling you off the vanity and continuing down your chest.

“Then don’t. Take me for everything I have,” you whined, following his every move and manhandling touch.

He breathed heavily between kisses. “Saying those kinds’a words with that pretty voice of yours… fuck, you’re doing things to me.”

Your hands were trailing all over his body, and then you tugged his shirt off, desperate to feel him. He had similar thoughts, fingers dipping into your silk shorts and petting your hot mound.

“Need you,” you panted, and, at your words, he suddenly tore off your silk shorts and panties in one clean go, making you shiver.

He then sat down on your vanity chair and roughly grabbed you by the hips to place yourself onto one of his thighs. The thick fabric of his sweatpants, taking in your wetness like a sponge, made you wince.

“Go on then,” he demanded darkly, “get y’self off on my fucking thigh. Show me how bad you need me.”

You bit your lip, face burning with shame at the order. But there was an aching need in your gut, and the way he crossed his arms, watching and waiting for you to get the hell on with it, had you clenching around his thigh.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, and you began slowly rutting against him, the soft fabric of his pants doing poor work for pleasuring your core. You pressed your face into his shoulder, screwed up at the lack of friction.

“Can’t do it,” you whined, “Please.”

He rolled his eyes. “You said you needed me. You’ve got me,” he gestured to his thigh, “so get to work.” Then, he suddenly flexed, making an unwarranted mewl leave your mouth.

You wanted nothing more than his fucking cock, but here you were, pathetically pleasuring yourself on his thigh until he allowed otherwise. You nodded resignedly, and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, starting to set a steady pace of grinding down on him, slowly building up the heat within your insides.

You were moaning now, vigorously dragging your hips against him harder, needier, feeling the pressure in your cunt grow hotter and more rampant.

“Y’hear that?” He asked, one of his fingers tilting your chin back up to face him. “D’you even realize how fucking delicious you sound, all needy f’me?”

You nodded, but weren’t really paying attention: you were closer than ever, just moments away from falling off the edge— when Cillian stopped you.

“Stop,” he spoke, voice filled with sheer lust, and you whimpered at the abrupt loss of momentum. Then, he got up, holding you against him by the waist, looking down at his sweatpants. “You made such a mess… soaked all over m’pants.”

You didn’t — no, couldn’t respond to his musings, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to return friction to your needy pussy, biting down on your lip to muffle your breathy pants.

He noticed this, however, smirking and quickly pressing you stomach down onto the vanity. You caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time since your shower, and you flushed with shame: your eyes were heavy-lidded and dilated, lips pink and slick with drool, your brows in a perpetual knit.

You looked fucking filthy, and when you felt Cillian press his thick head to your entrance, something you hadn’t noticed he’d pulled out, too enraptured in your dirty expression, you shut your eyes.

You were suddenly so much more aware of the situation: you’d fucked yourself silly on your co-stars thigh, the co-star who was twice your age. He now knew you weren’t a talented aspiring actress, no, you were just a desperate little thing begging to be fucked.

“Hey, hey,” He tutted in mock-disappointment, “open your eyes, and fucking watch yourself. It’ll be good for our scene.”

You whimpered helplessly, obeying him and fluttering your eyes open, as he pushed his cock past your dripping folds inch by inch.

“Oh my god,” you cried out when he finally pressed all the way in. You felt so full, stretched to the brim with his hardened cock, so deep his balls touched your sticky clit.

“So fucking wet,” he commented, chuckling darkly behind you. You were totally slick, helping him enter you faster, but his cock was still a foreign intrusion to your inexperienced cunt: you were young, and had never been the type to “get around” — at least not with the intentions of getting fucked so much you could take any length of dick easily.

You clenched around him, a groan leaving his mouth at the increased pressure around his cock, and he snapped into you, making you bounce forward as your lips parted with a sweet moan.

You’d been focussed on his face, in the mirror, but Cillian’s hand suddenly tangled through your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and lifting your head to face yourself. “I told you to fucking watch yourself,” he spat, gripping your hair tightly. “you’re the reason we can’t wrap up, so do your job and fuckin’ practice.”

With that, Cillian started pounding into you, digging the rough pads of his fingers into your hip, and you would’ve protested such a fast progression — having been given barely any time to get used to his long cock — but your expression was even worse than before, if that was even possible.

Your mouth was open, tongue out and panting like a fucking dog, your lustfully sticky spit spilling down your chin to your chest, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head with each hearty thrust Cillian delivered you. The sounds you were making weren’t helping your embarrassment either, all unintelligible mewls and needy whines for his cock.

“You’ve wanted me for so long, haven’t you? I always knew what a filthy desperate girl you were, pressing up against me during shooting… those naughty hands on my thighs,” he snickered.

“Needed you in me so bad,” you whimpered, nodding enthusiastically, barely able to register what you were doing now with the pleasure washing over you and clouding your senses. Your back was arching into him, sucking in his cock and never wanting him to leave despite the mind-breaking ecstasy that was coming from his pounding.

“Just look at your dirty fuckin’ face… so pathetic.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek; sweet and lovely, a stark juxtaposition to his unrelenting rutting and degrading words.

You whined at his words, but you knew they were true: you’d never seen yourself get fucked, always too busy with, well, getting fucked, but seeing yourself in the mirror like this had you unexpectedly hotter than before. There was just something about it, your face unabashedly contorting around the pleasure, Cillian’s hands snaking up your body as he rammed into you in the background.

Kind of like your own personal porno, you thought offhandedly, and you wondered how it’d affect you if you filmed yourself. Hopefully, with Cillian.

His other hand then came up to your folds, spreading them apart so he could see himself disappear into your hole. “Fuck, your cunt’s so perfect,” he growled, his head falling back, losing himself in the pleasure.

The orgasm building in your gut wasn’t like the one when you’d been grinding down on his thick thigh, no, it came faster, making you sweat and your knees shake. You wanted more, and you gasped out “faster,” and “harder,” to Cillian, needing him in the stick spongy spot deep in your cunt.

“Please,” you begged without any expectation of a real answer or action, “please, Cillian, please.”

He did go faster, though, to your apparent shock, both hands coming to your thighs to steady himself. “So needy,” he grumbled, pushing himself deeper and more swiftly into you, feeling how deliciously your fleshy walls tightened around his new pace.

With that, your high came just as quick, hitting you like a fucking freight train and making you scream out his name. Your orgasm wrecked you, made your vision go white and your thoughts stutter to a complete halt, and you vaguely made out Cillian’s proud hum, whispering “Good girl,” in your ear.

When you came to, your head was hanging low, your eyes blown out, lips puffy. Cillian was still thrusting into your worn-out pussy, but it was more jilted, shaky and needy.

“Come in me,” you pleaded suddenly, gripping the vanity to keep your trembling legs up, “fill me up, please, make your come spill out of me.”

“Good god, girl,” he groaned, pounding one last thrust into you before letting go, his cock pulsing around your wet core. He was pressed up to you so deep you could feel him shoot his load right into your cervix, and you grinned weakly, a sweet image of you: knocked up with his kid, your cunt so young and fertile you’d get pregnant from just about anything from him, entering your mind.

After a moment, he slipped his softening cock out of your filthy cunt and picked you up by the waist to set you down on the vanity and keep you from falling onto the floor.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. You then bit your lip, feeling his thick load of creamy come ooze out of your used hole onto your vanity.

He noticed too, letting out a satisfied groan, spreading your legs lightly, before collecting himself on his finger and pushing his come back into your cunt. “Such a good girl,” he reiterated, going back to being sweet and petting your hair, doting on your weak form, looking deep into your eyes.

You swooned at his delicate actions. “Is this a good time to say I like you?”

He laughed, all adoringly. “It’s as good a time as any. I like you, too, if it’s any consolation.”

“But you, y’know… you said I was too young,” you reminded him, frowning slightly.

He sighed, gaze drifting away nervously for a moment before coming back to you. “That I did, but, well… if you wanna take this old man for a ride before I keel over,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t help the laugh that belted out of you, his words so ridiculous and completely not based in reality. “Oh, sure,” you said, shaking your head, lips still in an amused tilt, “you’re mine, old man.”

Before he could speak, probably say another stupid joke, your hands wrapped around his neck and you pulled him toward you, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips.

“I like you like you, okay?” You whispered, sounding incredibly juvenile but twice as heartfelt, your tone wavering and self-conscious. You were bearing your heart on your sleeve here, okay, acknowledging feelings you thought should never come to light.

His hands came up to your face, gently holding you. “Good thing I like you like you, too.”

ii.

“Cut!” The director called, and you swore you felt your heart drop to the floor. Fuck, you thought, mind racing, what went wrong this time? Was it the kissing, or the hands in the hair?

However, the director came up to you and Cillian and let out an uncharacteristic shriek of delight. “Perfection,” he said simply, bordering on catatonic with how content he was.

Your shoulders slumped with relief, and you leaned into Cillian, who was subtly dancing his fingers across your thigh. “It’s finished?” you asked, breathless with excitement.

The director nodded. “That was electric, needy, tense, delicious, passionate, so, so passionate,” he continued with a gasp, hands clasping together tightly. “You are two of the most amazing actors I have ever worked with— you are incredibly talented, so convincing I’d have thought you did sleep together.”

You preened at his praise, but not without looking up at Cillian, meeting his gaze and barely keeping your expression happy and neutral and not at all warm at the thought of the other night's events.

As the director went off rambling about the utter masterpiece the movie was to be, Cillian trailed behind you off the set, murmuring lowly in your ear, “I guess practice does make perfect.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy rpf #cillian murphy x reader smut

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casualaruanienjoyer · 3 months ago

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Reverse Au- Somewhere in Stohess

Hey all! Back for @aruani-week-2025 fashionably late! I wanted to make a lil comic for this event and decided to combine a few different prompts from the list including: Betrayal, Mastermind, Lovers to Enemies, Secret. And what better scene to work on than this iconic Female Titan reveal scene??

I wanted to dip back into the little Reverse Au me, @aruanimess and @pitruli were playing around with a while back. Although, my take on this scene is a bit more depressing.

I wanted to present a bit of Armin's struggles created by the heavy burden of being chosen as a Marleyan warrior (a position he certainly didn't desire) and the inner conflict between his Marleyan self and the new Armin he created when arriving in Paradis.

Here, he could use his brain for a good cause, but it seems that no matter how much he tried, he could never leave Marley behind. He never wanted to kill anyone. He never wanted to invade Paradis. All he wanted was to study the world.

Putting up a front wasn't difficult for Armin, but it sure tore his heart apart.

Once Annie figured out the inconsistencies in his words, it all came crumbling down.

I hope you guys like it! I'd love to hear your ideas and concepts for this!

#aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #armin arlert #annie leonhart #aot headcanons #aot scenarios #aruani #aot reverse au #female armin colossal annie au

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duskidolsmut · 3 months ago

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"Lust Leaked"

Jisoo is present at Le Grand Diner Du Louvre, a charity event held at the iconic Parisian museum and is one of the highlights of the night, exuding elegance and charisma alongside big names in fashion and entertainment.

W: 1.219

The night pulsed with glamor and secrets. In yet another show of riches: diamonds glittered on necks and the sound of clinking glasses filled the air. Jisoo, Cartier ambassador and BLACKPINK star, was the living jewel of the event. Her black dress hugged every curve of her slender body. Her sharp gaze promised something beyond what the cameras could capture. She knew that everyone wanted her, but that night, her target had already been chosen.

Among the businessmen present was a 40-something Frenchman who owned a fortune in real estate investments. He watched her from the corner of the room, the cigar between his fingers billowing smoke as his eyes roamed her body without shame. Jisoo felt the weight of that gaze and decided to play. She crossed the room towards him, her heels echoing like a challenge. Her dress rode up a little with each step, revealing the black lace of the lingerie underneath, and the guests around her pretended not to notice, but the heat in the air was undeniable.

“You're very quiet there, Laurent,” she said, her voice deep and mellifluous, leaning over his table until her black hair fell like a curtain around her face. “Do you want a distraction that this fancy party doesn't give you?” Her accent, mixed with a debauched tone, made for the naughtiest teasing.

Laurent smiled, trying to keep his composure, but the glint in his eyes gave him away. “And what can a woman like you do for me?” he replied, his voice laced with arrogance. Jisoo didn't let it go. With a mischievous little smile, she stood up, took his hand and pulled him tight. “Come with me, you little rich bastard, and I'll show you how I get down to the ground,” she said.

She took him to a secluded area of the event, a private terrace overlooking the lights, where the heavy curtains muffled the sound of the party. There, in the middle of the warm night, Jisoo let loose for good. Pushing Laurent against the balustrade, she unceremoniously pulled up her dress, revealing black lingerie that barely covered her essentials. “You think you're in charge of everything, don't you? I'm the fucking boss here,” she whispered, with a domineering attitude, as she gripped his chin tightly, her eyes sparking with arousal and control.

Without giving him time to react, Jisoo turned around, pushing her body against him, her dress now wrapped around her waist. “Take me straight or I'll make you beg,” she teased, tossing her hair back as she rubbed herself against him, the movements so sensual and rhythmic that they were like a forbidden dance. The secret fetish for exhibitionism coursed through her veins - the idea that someone might see them there, on the terrace, only added to the fire.

Laurent, already surrendered, tried to touch, but she stopped him, pinning his hands against the railing. She bent down slowly, her lips brushing against his pants as she unzipped them with her teeth. Her hands, delicate but firm, pulled down his pants and underwear, exposing him completely to the night air - and to her power.

Jisoo wasted no time. First, she ran her tongue slowly along the base, moving up with torturous slowness, her eyes fixed on his as if she wanted to record every reaction on the Frenchman's face. “You're enjoying it, aren't you?” she said, pausing for a second just to watch him squirm, his rich male ego crumbling at her command. Without waiting for an answer, she wrapped her lips around the tip, sucking lightly, almost as a test, before sliding her whole mouth down, swallowing with a greedy determination.

Her rhythm was pure arousal mixed with provocation. She alternated between fast movements, her head bobbing as if she were dancing to the beat, and long pauses, where only her tongue worked - swirling in circles, pressing the right spots, while her right hand squeezed his base hard, dictating control. The wet sound and Laurent's muffled moans filled the terrace, and Jisoo seemed to feed on it, her eyes shining with pleasure as she dominated him.

Suddenly, she stopped, pulling her mouth back with a loud “pop” and looking up at him with a crooked smile. “You think it's over? I've only just started, dammit,” she said, before going all in, now using both hands - one moving up and down in sync with her mouth, the other squeezing his thighs, her nails digging lightly into his skin. She sucked with an almost savage intensity, her lips stretched around him, saliva dripping down her chin as she moaned softly, as if she was enjoying it as much as he was.

Exhibitionism pulsed through her. With every movement, she threw her hair back, leaving her face exposed, as if she wanted someone, anyone, to see her there, at the height of her power and naughtiness. When she felt him start to shake harder, she picked up the pace, her warm, wet mouth enveloping him completely, her tongue pressing firmly into his underside as she pushed him to the limit. Laurent tried to hold back his moans, but a loud grunt escaped, and Jisoo laughed against him, the sound vibrating and intensifying everything.

At the last second, she pulled away, letting him explode alone, the hot liquid splashing onto the terrace floor as she wiped her lips with her finger, her gaze triumphant. “That was just a warm-up, you bastard. If you want more, you'll have to beg me properly,” she said, standing up with a wiggle, her dress falling back into place as if nothing had happened.

“Now you owe me one,” she said, laughing like a queen who had just won over another subject.

After leaving Laurent panting and disoriented on the terrace, Jisoo adjusted her dress with a casual movement, as if she had just done her hair for a selfie. The French tycoon was still trying to catch his breath, his face red and his eyes glazed, when she threw one last provocative glance over her shoulder. “Behave yourself, you little rich boy, and I'll come back for you afterwards,” she said, her tone full of promise and debauchery, before disappearing through the heavy curtains back into the main hall.

But the evening was far from over - and Jisoo's game was about to take on an unexpected layer. As she made her way across the ballroom, with a firm bounce and the smile of someone who knows the power she wields, a discreet figure watched her from a dark corner near the bar. It was Mei Lin, a young freelance photographer hired by Cartier to cover the event. Small, with short hair dyed purple and a camera slung around her neck, Mei Lin had captured more than flashes of the party: she had seen everything on the terrace. And not only that - she had recorded it.

Mei Lin held up her cell phone with a clear video: Jisoo on her knees, her black lingerie showing, Laurent's muffled moans echoing in the audio. The photographer's heart was beating fast, not just from shock, but from a mixture of excitement and ambition. She knew that video was worth gold - she could sell it to the press for millions or use it for something more... personal.

#blackpink smut #kpop smut #jisoo smut

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narcjsistx · 6 months ago

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𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 | OS

shidou ryusei x fem reader ; words: 1.0k (1086)

coming from this event, fourth day, 21/12

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: during the christmas period it was normal for the association to invite the players, and their girlfriends, to organized dinners. shidou loves to show up at these dinners with you, where everyone asks you how you can be together even though you are so different

Shidou Ryusei is a beast, both on and off the field: the boy's sparkling soul is recognized by everyone in the industry, and his own fanbase boasts of having as an idol someone who is extremely unpredictable, but who always manages to shine. The beast has someone who loves him and with whom he is extremely in love, and that person is you. If he is a beast, you are an angel

If he runs, you walk. If you talk, he screams. If he shoots deadly kicks into the opponent's net, you move with unthinkable delicacy. If he has to be the beast, you are his guardian angel

The diversity between you is probably the thing that makes your relationship work, which experiences a new chemical reaction every day. When the world came to discover you, it was shocked to see someone so different next to the zesty demon, and many had bet that you would not last long, if not a few months. Evidently they were all wrong, because by now you had been together for a few years. The secret dates at the beginning of the relationship had turned into official dinners that it was the industry itself that invited you to. The association loved to invite its players, and consequently their girlfriends, to extremely endless dinners, with many special dishes and nonstop alcohol until the next morning

Christmas dinner was one of those occasions. The white suit and black tie highlighted Shidou's figure, who was forced by you to wear something more elegant than usual. Your long red dress had been chosen a few hours earlier by your boyfriend, who had the honor of being able to choose from the proposals you had proposed to him. Having got out of the car, at least an hour late, the photographers had been waiting for the scandalous couple all evening

It had become a habit to have all eyes on you, and god, you loved it now: seeing people's fascinated looks had become a priceless prize. At first, when it happened, you prayed for it to end as soon as possible, but Shidou had quickly pointed out to you that they were beautiful looks, and not bad ones: as a couple you caused a scandal, but in a good way. The glances increased your love

"Shidou, Shidou, here!"

"Y/n, a closeup for the local press"

"Look here, both of you!"

You were objectively loved, you were iconic, everything about you and your diversity was iconic. The only envious glances are from the other girlfriends of the players on the team, who have never had the same success as you. Aside from the always iconic entrance, the dinners are actually quite boring and monotonous: there is always the same group of players who are really friends, those who join but don't understand much and those who would gladly go to their house and sink into their partners' bodies. Shidou always created a category of his own, even if sometimes he was part of the last one. A few years ago he was the one who almost got arrested because he was about to beat up a butler who had been a bit too cocky touching you; in the last one he had made everyone drunk because of a game played by all the dinner guests, including the managers. And you, always at his side, tried to mediate the behavior of your beloved cockroach

"I wonder how she survives"

"They probably don't really have that much harmony, they just work"

Often, beyond the thousand compliments, you also heard these words. They were words that actually slipped by you, that occupied your mind for no more than two minutes. They were simply things that you considered false, because hell, you couldn't tell everything that happens between you. It would be too long a story and you would even have to invent terms that are still unknown, because everything that has to do with your boyfriend is yet to be discovered

The others don't know how much Ryusei is a lovesick person, and that he isn't afraid to show it. The others don't know how obsessed he is with your love, how dependent he is on it. The others don't know that for him, you seem to be his first in everything, even though he has an experience behind him that could be talked about for a whole week without getting bored. Others don't know how much he really cares about you, in a way that in the early days of the relationship seemed like who knows how many treatments before ghosting, but that is now normal and that you deeply appreciate with all your heart

Others don't know how much the situation changes when you are within the walls of your home, how he becomes the angel and you the beast of the situation: how you affectionately attack him every time he comes home or when he too has bad moments, since even though he is a demon, he remains a human, someone in reality much deeper than others might think

Others can seriously think what they want, you're fine as long as you know the truth. This is yet another trait that Ryusei has changed in you, he who has always been indifferent has taught you that you should care little about other opinions, the superfluous ones, because they are often made only out of malice. This was yet another difference, before the change

Maybe you're not really that different, or rather, you're convinced that you're not as different as everyone thinks: you balance yourselves in a way that you believe only the two of you can do for each other, alternating between heaven and hell

"Fuck everyone, as long as I have the chance to be with you I don't care about the differences. Love me as you think is best, I'll adapt to your way. We do what we think is best for each other, outside opinion is just a way to make us famous, right? If they hated us they wouldn't talk about us so much, but they obviously love us for being so interested"

There is no angel without black wings; there is no beast without a heart. There is no Y/n without Shidou Ryusei; there is no Shidou Ryusei without Y/n. As long as you had the chance to be close, to love each other, to kiss each other, you would never have cared about the differences that actually tied you together

TAG: @natmagaesp ; @kittenish0 ; @x3nafix

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thatmooncake · 3 months ago

Note

What are your favourite TSAMS characters?

…Okay one unskippable cutscene on Nexus, then I go sleep in a hole

So I don’t tune in as much as I once did but anyway, Nexus is one of my faves in SAMS for a few reasons including but not limited to the following:

- Identity issues go brrrr - guy has had impostor syndrome since the day he was born and has never caught a single break. His first assignment on waking up with no memories was to fight god and to his credit he rose to the challenge from day one not just for his own sake but for his family.

Originally used his fuzzy sense of attachment to his old identity as motivation to be better than his former self, got lost along the way and ended up using that same motivation to become a twisted facsimile of that notion of “improving himself” who couldn’t let go of those he’d cut ties with and ended up hurting them instead.

Even his new form still looked like what he said he didn’t want to be anymore. In almost every way, he became the very thing he hated.

- Tragic - we lost him, gang. He died but we lost him looong before that. We lost New Moon after watching him grow for a year. He was so sweet - up until he wasn’t. He was only a baby narratively speaking and his inexperience showed. He was a victim of his own bad choices (so many bad choices) and the manipulations of others, again and again.

Came to view attachments to others as worthless because he felt powerless to stop himself from losing everything after being dealt blow after blow and learning nothing was safe no matter what he did. Held himself to such an impossibly high standard still trying to control everything that sought to threaten him and his family that he ultimately snapped.

Spent like a month being tormented by visions of losing his whole family and ended up making that a reality through his own actions and choices (but NOT without the help of Dark Sun who admittedly orchestrated the whole thing and got away with it). Died serving as a template for the very thing he tried desperately to escape.

It’s hard not to want to imagine a better ending for him where he’s either actually able to be reached or at least gets to kill some people about it.

- Haunts the narrative while simultaneously being its personal punching bag - everything from Nexus’s name to his chosen physical form to his worldview are fodder for endless jokes to this day even after he’s been dead for months. People talk about him like he’s got cooties. He’s edgy, he’s ridiculous, he says mean things and didn’t tend to think things through. At the same time, his image lingers, and so does the fact that he couldn’t be fixed and couldn’t be saved.

Characters who have canonically accomplished far worse are viewed with more sympathy, making Nexus infinitely more versatile in that he’s fun to hate on but also a character you kinda want to pluck from the garbage heap he’s been tossed into and imagine what he could have been in a more sympathetic light or if his villain arc had been given a bit more breathing room. People will be crying about that for a long time.

Tl;dr - soggy idiot bastard who belongs in a trash can, iconic, been dead forever but imagination reigns supreme.

My other faves are Ruin (does he count as SAMS anymore? Anyway I want to bully him and admire his theatrical bitchery and study him in a test tube), Dark Sun (karma Houdini grrgrrrgrr but his twisted fascination with Moons and mysterious backstory/low energy persona has got me a little hooked), and the main two (they’re not my Sun and Moon but their dynamic is fun and they make me laugh when I do tune in).

Thanks for the ask!

#TSAMS #TSAMS nexus #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #fableasks #thank you!#also the narrative says not to like him and I refuse to do what I’m told #long post #kinda

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winwintea · 2 months ago

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deal with the devil

PAIRING ↬ rockstar!lee heeseung x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ drama, romance, angst, heavy angst, hee probably has bipolar idk he's so mean, tension so real, very toxic do not engage, but you engage anyways, selling your soul to the devil ofc !!!

WARNINGS ↬ cults probably, your average rockstar things yknow

SUMMARY ↬ the change was subtle but noticeable. you seemed to have lost him completely. hee wasn't yours anymore.

WORD COUNT ↬ 5.4k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ don't have much to say about this one. when life gives you heeseung you make him sell his soul to the devil ig

(as part of an april fools joke fic swap @polarisjisung actually wrote this all credit goes to her she’s like my icon)

YOU COULDN'T DO IT ANYMORE.

And that thought grew stronger with each moment that passed.

You watched Heeseung from the corner of your eye, his back turned towards you as he scrolled through his phone, fingers quick and determined. You hadn’t seen him in days, your schedules colliding, and you’d barely managed conversation, the clock ticking in the back of your mind with each word you had spoken to each other recently. It had been like this for weeks now, an endless cycle of meetings, rehearsals, and press interviews.

There was no time for quiet conversations or late night milkshake runs like before, no space for those small moments away from your hectic lives. Instead the days blurred into one another, and in the rush of it all, you kept finding yourself alone, even when he was just a room away.

You had tried to push the feeling down, to convince yourself that this was just a phase, that he was still there—somewhere beneath the surface of his distracted gaze and distant demeanor that he was still the man you loved. Your heeseung. But the more you tried to hold on, the more you realised he was slipping through your fingers, his attention elsewhere, his mind always a million miles away. Never present.

You had waited long enough to say something—had swallowed down the quiet resentment, forgotten the unanswered texts, the missed date nights, the constant late nights he spent out with people who weren’t you. Even those half hearted conversations, forgotten birthdays and anniversaries, the empty apologies, and the way he seemed more eager to leave than to stick around.

You had let it all go, every single time. The mistakes he had made, all in the name of his obsession, convincing yourself it didn’t matter.

But it did matter. Each moment you had overlooked, each time you had convinced yourself to be patient, was a weight on your chest. You were finding out now, it mattered a whole lot.

Over time, you had become so used to being the one who waited, the one to forgive, the one who made excuses for him, you weren’t sure why tonight was so different, why you felt this undying urgency to fix this, all you knew was that you couldn’t ignore it. Not anymore.

The Heeseung you had fallen in love with, the one who once looked at you like you were the center of his world, his universe in fact, had now faded into someone completely unrecognisable. someone whose ambition had eclipsed everything—your love, no exception.

The once familiar adoration in his eyes had been replaced by immense hunger, a constant thirst for validation that you couldn’t quench. His every action, his every behaviour, his mere existence, was all a sick reminder that you weren’t good enough, not for him and not for the name he was building. You weren’t enough at all.

The late nights, the flashing lights, those endless meetings—they were his new lovers, and you were just an afterthought, if a thought at all.

“Do you even realise how much you’ve changed?” you asked.

Honestly, you weren’t sure if you had even meant to say it, perhaps.you should've chosen your words more carefully, but you were tired of letting things go like they meant nothing. “It’s like I don’t know you anymore, Heeseung.”

Heeseung’s posture stiffened. His whole body froze in the second it took you to speak, heavy with discomfort.

And you saw it, how the muscles in his back tensed, the seething frustration in the way his chest rose and fell, in the tightness of his lips, the way his eyes flickered towards you but never stopped to meet yours. Like he didn't care enough to look your way.

“Are we really going to do this right now?” His voice was low, tone clipped, urging you not to keep talking.

But you had already decided, you were sick of being the only one who compromised. Tired of feeling insignificant, like some sort of unwanted baggage that was such a hassle to keep around. You were tired of feeling like you weren't loved.

And if it was any help, Heeseung still wasn't looking at you.

“You’ve barely been here,” you continued, “You’re always somewhere else, anywhere else, be it rehearsals or meetings or I don’t know what else. You’re just never here. Oh and when you are here, on the rare occasion that you actually are here Heeseung, I can barely tell the difference.” you speak with an incessant mocking in your tone that makes Heeseung's skin crawl, but then you pause, exhaling deeply before continuing “I miss the person you used to be.”

Heeseung clicked his tongue, staring out the window in front of him as he took note of the soft cracks in your voice, quiet and almost unnoticeable.

But then finally turned, his gaze locking onto you, making your breath hitch.

This wasn’t the gentle gaze you had once known, filled with warmth and understanding. It was sharp, searching for something to blame, something to lash out at. And you couldn’t help but realise, this was the first time he’d looked your way in weeks.

“I’m doing what I have to do,” he said it like it was obvious, his words unapologetic. “You think I want it to be like this? I’ve got responsibilities. You think this life is easy? Just because things went well for you doesn’t mean they did for me. I have to focus to get the things I want.” It always came down to this with Heeseung, the thought that he was always falling behind when it came to his career. His success was never big enough compared to yours, his fame never great enough. He’d never said it outright, but you could feel it in the way he withdrew, the way he barely celebrated his own achievements. You’d thought it was just modesty at first, but now, the truth of it settled in your chest, maybe you’d been too blind.

But he had always been proud of you, hadn’t he?

The resentment in his eyes spoke otherwise. You didn’t mention it though.

“And besides, you’re not the only one in this relationship you know.” He finished.

“I’m not asking you to put your job on the sidelines, Heeseung. I’m just asking that you don’t forget that I’m here too. Because yeah, I might not be the only one in this relationship, but it sure as hell feels that way. You’re just so- ” Heeseung cuts you off before you can finish.

“I’m so what?” his eyes narrowed, voice rising just a fraction, a bitter, thick defensiveness lacing through it. “I’m supposed to drop everything, forget my career, because you need me to be present for you? You know how hard I’ve been working.”

You felt the sting of his words, and for a moment, you lose the balance you'd been fighting so hard to maintain, the heat in your chest pushing you to say something that you knew you shouldn’t.

“You think I care about that? About how hard you work?” Your voice cracked as the words spilled out, unfiltered and bitter, but painfully honest. “You think it matters if you're too busy to even see me when you’re here? Maybe you need to realise that you’re so busy chasing this fame that you’ve forgotten everything else.”

Heeseung’s eyes flashed, and for the first time, you saw something in him you hadn’t expected, darkness, coldness, a glimpse of hatred. He took a step toward you, expression stoic, controlled, but his words were blunt, deliberate. “So that’s it? You’re mad because I’m trying to be someone? Trying to make something of myself?” His tone was laced with disbelief. “You really think this is about me wanting to leave you behind?”

“You are leaving me behind Heeseung.” you shot back, stepping forward too, the words coming out before you could even stop to think them over. “But you don’t see it, do you? You’re so wrapped up in being someone that you’ve forgotten about who you were.” You felt a lump form in your throat, choking you as your eyes began to water. “You’re not the person I fell in love with anymore, Heeseung. You’ve let this thing” you hands flailed around you, motioning to his world of success, fame, and whatever else he’d submerged himself in “take over you and I’m just not important to you.”

There was a long pause. Heeseung’s face had gone pale, but there was no softness in his expression, no acknowledgement of the hurt in your voice or the tears brimming your eyes—nothing. Instead, he stood there, fists clenched by his sides, shoulders tight with frustration. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

Between you, the room fell quiet.

Heeseung tucked in a harsh breath and his voice was much calmer now, “I can’t just stop. What do you want me to do? Do you really want me to throw everything away, huh, and for what? For you?”

Your heart twisted at his words, His voice echoed in your head, like each syllable made your throat constrict further. It felt like the room had closed in around you, the air suddenly thick, impossible to breathe. You wanted to speak, to defend yourself, but the words caught in your throat. Your eyes prickled, the sting of tears threatening to spill over, but you fought to hold them back, blinking rapidly to stop them from falling.

What did you want? You weren’t sure anymore. But it sure wasn't this.

You opened your mouth to say something, to explain, but it was of no use, Heeseung didn't want to see your point, and no amount of talking would make him.

“Maybe you should throw it all away. Maybe you should throw me away too. You’ve already made it clear that I’m just in your way,” you said, the words stinging as they left your lips. You saw the flicker of shock in Heeseung’s eyes. But that was it, shock, only shock. No guilt, no sympathy, nothing.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, your stomach churned, low and painfully slow, anticipation heavy in your chest. Maybe you had it all wrong, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t let you go like this.

“If that’s how you really feel, then maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t need someone holding me back.” He laughed, sardonically almost, a deep rooted finality in each syllable that fell from his lips.

And despite the silent prayer you whispered, Heeseung didn't say another word, didn't retract his statement, he didn't care at all.

He simply turned towards the door without looking back, as if it had all been decided, as if everything you had just said didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, as if it didn’t matter at all. “Think about what you just said,” he added over his shoulder, eyes piercing your own, like you were the one who messed up, like you were in the wrong.

The door slammed behind him, and just like that, you were alone again.

You wondered, for a moment, if you had truly lost him — or if he had already been gone long before this.

It had been three weeks.

Twenty one days since Heeseung walked out of your apartment and vanished.

No calls. No texts. Nothing.

At first, you'd gone through every logical step, checking with mutual friends, calling his manager, even passing by the studio he frequented. Every time, the answer was the same, no one had seen him.

Days blurred into nights, and Heeseung hadn't come home.

You had told yourself you wouldn’t be the one to break, that you wouldn’t sit by the door like some loser waiting for him to come home. You had more self respect than that. Still, every time you heard footsteps outside your apartment, your heart skipped a beat. But it was never him, never Heeseung.

The cold bit against your skin as you left the venue, your limbs still aching from your concert hours ago.

You weren’t sure why you had agreed to go on tonight—maybe to get your mind off him, maybe to remind yourself that life moved on even when people left. It was true.

The world didn’t stop just because yours had.

Planes still took off, traffic still clogged the streets, fans still lined up outside venues, screaming your name like nothing had changed.

The industry kept moving, relentless and unforgiving, demanding smiles, perfect performances, and effortless charm, even when you felt like you were falling apart.

The universe kept spinning, indifferent to your grief. And so, you had moved with it.

Three weeks soon became four, and weeks turned into months. Heeseung was gone, and you'd finally accepted it.

Or so you thought.

Because just when you thought you were fine, over the hurt he had caused, he was back.

Standing at the end of the dimly lit alley, just past the neon glow of the streetlights, Heeseung leaned against the wall like he’d never been gone. Like the last few months had been nothing but a pause.

Your heart dropped.

And despite the way his name had been at the tip of your tongue for weeks now, you couldn't bring yourself to call out to him, to shout his name.

You couldn't do anything but watch.

His posture was different, more relaxed, somewhat self-assured.

The Heeseung you knew had always carried an unshakable confidence, but this was something else entirely. He exuded presence, like the very air bent around him. Even in the low light, his features seemed sharper, his eyes darker than the soft brown you knew and loved.

Something was wrong.

You swallowed against the tightness in your throat, forcing your feet to shuffle forward.

“Heeseung?” You barely broke past the quiet of the night.

He pushed off the wall at the sound of your voice , his lips curling into something that should’ve been a smile but wasn’t. It was too smooth, everything you knew and loved with this tinge of insincerity.

“Miss me?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. There was something unnervingly familiar about them, yet they didn’t sound like him. Exactly like what Heeseung would say, nothing like how he would say it.

Your breath hitched as he took a slow step closer, closing the space between you. He even smelled different, not bad, but richer, something intoxicating. Dizzying almost.

And his eyes. God, his eyes. The warmth that once lived there was gone, replaced by deep hollowness. Piercing but so immensely captivating. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

Heeseung was back, your Heeseung was back, but he was so incredibly different.

The first few days after Heeseung’s return were exactly as you expected, warm, happy and uneventful.

But you couldn't help but find one thing strange.

He acted as if nothing had happened. No apologies, no explanations. Just casual, Let’s not make a big deal out of it angel when you tried to ask where he’d been.

And naturally you let it slide. You didn't question further, not when all you had cared about in the past few weeks stood right in front of you. You had spent weeks wondering if he was okay, if he’d come back, if he was even alive, so of course, you had let it slide, foolishly you had let it slide.

At first, you told yourself it was just in your head. That after weeks of silence, it was normal for things to feel off. That you were just overthinking, reading way too much into the smallest details of the way he carried himself now.

But slowly, the littlest of things began piling up. Those quiet moments where there should’ve been ugly laughter or awkward stare and stolen glances. You started noticing how he held you, tight but still, like he didn't want to but knew he had to. You caught the way his eyes lingered a second too long, like he was reading you, picking you and your thoughts apart in their entirety.

This wasn’t just distance. It was something else, something that made your skin prickle and your heart beat just a touch faster.

Then again, maybe, things weren't that bad after all. Things were going smoothly. You were just overthinking, analysing things that weren’t worth a second thought.

But then there were the moments that felt off. The way he seemed distracted more often than not, his attention pulled away from you, even when you were in the same room. It wasn’t a huge thing, just enough to make you wonder if there was something more beneath the surface that neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Exactly like before, but somehow totally different.

Most notably, Heeseung was more affectionate than ever—kissing you softly, whispering how much he missed you, brushing his fingers along your skin like you were something fragile. It should have felt comforting. But instead, it felt like a performance. Like he was playing the role of someone who used to love you. The warmth of his touch was there, but it felt distant, as if he was offering affection not out of instinct, but out of obligation.

You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you and Heeseung had settled into a strange sort of rhythm, and it was nothing like before

The first time you noticed anything.

It was late. You sat curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone, the room dimly lit by the TV in front of you. Heeseung sat beside you, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, his fingers tracing slow circles on your shoulder.

Pin drop silence filled the room. An uncomfortable silence that wasn't familiar in the slightest.

But the old Heeseung, your Heeseung always talked.

Even in moments like this, he used to hum a tune under his breath, make a dad joke about whatever was on TV, or tease you for the way your nose scrunched up when you were concentrating on something. But tonight, he was silent.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. The same, yet so different. His posture was relaxed, but there was something about the way he held himself still, unmoving.

“Heeseung,” you called softly.

His head turned smoothly, a little too smoothly, his gaze locking onto yours in an instant.

It startled you. Not because he was looking at you, but because it felt like he had been waiting for you to speak, as if he wasn’t fully present until you called out to him. Like he needed you to pull him back to reality.

“What?” His voice was casual, easy, like he hadn’t just unnerved you. As if nothing was wrong, and maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it really wasn’t. You were overthinking.

You swallowed, suddenly forgetting why you had called his name. “Nothing” You trailed, “It's just that you’re quiet tonight.”

Heeseung blinked at you before smiling, tilting his head slightly, amused.

“You want me to talk more?”

It was a strange question, almost unnatural in the way it was phrased. Like he was offering, rather than responding.

“No, I just-” You hesitated, perhaps you were getting all up in your head, so you shook your head, forcing a laugh. “Never mind.”

Heeseung’s smile widened slightly as he shifted closer, his fingers now tracing softly along your jaw. “Miss my voice that much?” His voice was lower, smoother, like he was trying to pull you in.

The warmth of his touch should have been comforting, but something about it sent a chill up your spine.

“I just” You trailed off, unable to explain the unease creeping in.

Heeseung didn’t push. He only leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips just a little too cold, a little too still against your skin.

And the silence stretched on.

You found him in the studio a few nights later, hunched over his notebook, scribbling away. For a moment, a wave of relief washed over you. This was familiar—this was Heeseung, writing music, getting lost in his own world. Your heeseung who you hadn’t seen in weeks.

“Working on something new?” you asked, walking in.

Heeseung didn’t jump or flinch. He just lifted his head, slow and deliberate, like he had already known you were there.

“Yeah.” He turned the notebook toward you, inviting you to read.

You stepped closer, eyes scanning the lyrics. And then you frowned.

Different, it was so different. And it wasn't just limited to his behaviour or his actions, it was everything. Like nothing was the same.

Heeseung's writing always permeated intense longing, passion bleeding through every line. They were warm and comforting, he wrote lyrics of love.

But these lyrics in front of you were a stark contrast. The words carried a darkness, a sharp precision that felt unsettling. They were cold, detached, devoid of the emotion that usually defined his work.

And then you noticed something else. Lately it felt like that was all you were doing, noticing.

His handwriting was the last thing you expected to have changed.

It was still his, but it felt cleaner, more precise. Heeseung had always been messy, scrawling ideas on paper like he was racing against time. Not like this, not so perfect.

You forced a smile, pushing down the uneasy feeling curling in your stomach. “It’s different.”

Heeseung tilted his head. “You don’t like it?”

“No, it's just” You hesitated.

Just what? You didn’t even know how to explain what felt so off. All you knew was that something wasn't right.

Heeseung watched you for a long moment, then let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “Guess I’ve changed a little.”

The way he said it made your skin crawl.

Before you could respond, he reached for your hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against your knuckles. His eyes stayed on yours, searching, like he was waiting for you to react.

“Do you like it?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You swallowed. “The song?”

His smile lingered. “Everything.”

You don't respond, eyes unwavering from your hand. Heeseung always thought kisses on the hand were tacky, that they were corny. Heeseung didn't act like this.

This wasn't him.

And this time you were certain.

It was a small thing. A tiny moment. But it stuck with you. And perhaps you'd taken more care to notice these small quirks in Heeseung recently, but this had truly caught your attention.

You had just finished brushing your teeth when you noticed Heeseung standing in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection.

At first, you thought he was fixing his hair or something. But then you realised—he wasn’t moving at all, simply staring.

His eyes flickered, following his own reflection like he was studying something foreign. His expression was blank, unreadable.

“Hee?” you called softly.

His shoulders stiffened slightly before he turned to you. His face was normal again—relaxed, easygoing. That same small smile, so well practised you almost couldn't tell it was.

“Yeah?”

You hesitated. “What are you doing?”

He glanced back at the mirror, then shrugged. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

You nodded slowly, trying to shake the cold creeping up your spine. “Okay.”

Heeseung stepped closer, brushing a hand along your arm as he walked past. Then, without warning, he slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest.

The old Heeseung had always been affectionate, but this was different. He held you just a little too tight, fingers pressing into your skin like he was afraid to let go.

His lips brushed against your ear, voice lower and ever so slightly smoother. “You’re thinking too much.”

You let out a quiet laugh, trying to mask the way your pulse quickened. “Maybe.”

Heeseung turned you to face him, his thumb stroking slowly along your cheek. His gaze was warm, his smile soft. Perfect.

And maybe that was the problem. Your heeseung wasn't perfect, nor was your love. This wasn't right.

“You don’t have to worry about anything angel,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

You should have been comforted. You should have.

But all you could think about was the way he had been looking at himself in the mirror. You felt the bile rise to your throat, rethinking it over.

How it felt so unnatural.

And how, for just a second, his reflection didn’t look like him at all.

Suddenly you were sure, this couldn't be it. There was something else, something you didn't know, and you were determined to find out what.

It was late—past midnight—but you weren’t asleep.

You had woken up to an odd sound, something faint and rhythmic, like soft tapping against the floor. At first, you thought it was just the apartment settling, but then you noticed Heeseung’s side of the bed was empty.

Frowning, you sat up, rubbing your eyes before glancing toward the door. The faint glow of the streetlights seeped through the cracks, casting long, stretching shadows across the room.

That’s when you saw it.

Heeseung stood just outside the doorway, barely visible in the dim light. His back was to you, head tilted slightly downward as if he were deep in thought. But it wasn’t him that made your stomach drop.

It was his shadow.

It didn’t move right. For a moment, it didn’t move at all.

The room was still, not a single breeze disturbing the air, but his shadow, it flickered. Like a candle flame.

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Heeseung?” Your voice came out shakier than you intended.

He stilled for a moment before turning around slowly, a smooth, practiced motion—like he had already known you were watching. Practised, like his every movement, every action, every interaction was, never raw or honest, always measured, rehearsed.

His face was unreadable, the dim light carving out sharp angles across his features. And just as easily as always, he smiled. That perfect, soft smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was warm, teasing, like nothing was wrong. You forced yourself to breathe. To act normal. To pretend you hadn’t seen whatever this all was.

“Something like that”

Heeseung’s smile lingered as he took slow steps toward you, crawling back into bed without a word. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, his breath steady against your skin.

But your body stayed stiff.

Because you knew.

Whatever was lying next to you, holding you like it always had.

It wasn’t Heeseung. You hardly thought it was human at all.

The truth didn’t come in a grand confession. Heeseung never sat you down and told you what he had done. He never even hinted at it.

But the truth had a way of revealing itself, slowly and painfully, until you could no longer ignore it.

The evening had started like every other. You and Heeseung had spent the day wrapped up in your schedules, but now, as the sun dipped behind the city skyline, you were finally alone together. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone, while Heeseung moved quietly in the kitchen. The subtle shift in the air was hard to ignore, but you brushed it off at first. Maybe it was just exhaustion—this was the first time in weeks you’d had a moment to yourself.

But the longer you sat there, the more you noticed the way Heeseung moved. His footsteps were light, calculated. His back was to you, but there was something about the way his shoulders tensed with every small motion, like he was listening for something you couldn’t hear. A faint, unnatural stillness filled the room, and you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

You glanced up, and for a moment, your gaze locked with his across the room.

His eyes were darker than usual, like they were sucking the light out of the room. The pupils were narrow slits, like a predator’s, and for the briefest second, the air around him glowed with something otherworldly.

It was so subtle, you swore you would have missed it if you hadn’t been paying attention, but you didn’t need to be a psychic to sense that something was off.

Heeseung noticed your gaze and smiled, but it wasn’t his usual soft, comforting smile. You hadn't seen that smile in weeks, even so, this was far more sinister than anything you could recognize. It was stretched, sharp, like a wolf’s grin, and the edges of his lips twitched, revealing his pearl white teeth. The smile lingered a moment too long, as if waiting for you to say something, anything, before his expression settled back into something more neutral.

But the glint in his eyes didn’t fade. And you weren’t foolish enough to let this go.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, his voice rich, intoxicating, and so incredibly calm. The sound of it made your skin prickle. You felt sick.

You opened your mouth to respond, but a sudden, intense chill swept through the room, catching you off guard. The warmth of the evening, the soft hum of the apartment, all felt like they were being drained away, gone in the instant it took you to blink. You stared at him, unable to look away. He stood there, still, unmoving, and for a moment, you could almost swear his silhouette wavered, like smoke.

Something inside you snapped, a flicker of realization that you couldn’t ignore any longer. There was no denying it now.

"Heeseung..." Your voice faltered, throat constricted, the words coming out in a whisper of broken syllables "What’s going on?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his head slowly, almost deliberately, his gaze locking with yours again, and this time, you could feel the shift in the room, thick, suffocating.

His eyes were black now, completely devoid of color, just these endless pools of unfamiliar all-encompassing darkness that seemed to swallow everything they touched. The air felt too heavy to breathe, and you felt a weight settle in your chest, a pressure that wasn’t there before. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak.

He stepped forward, his footsteps not just quiet, but perfectly silent, his face impossibly close to yours. You could smell something faintly metallic, like the sharp tang of blood, but it didn’t make sense.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he said, his voice now lower “But I guess you’re smarter than I thought.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and your eyes widened as you saw the remnants of warmth flicker in his demeanor, like the edges of his humanity were starting to fray. His pupils dilated, and the air thickened with a heaviness you couldn’t explain, like the very walls of the room were pressing in around you.

“Heeseung... what are you?” you whispered, your voice shaking.

For a split second, there was a flicker of regret in his eyes—just a flicker, but it was there, and it made your stomach twist with a sick realization. Then just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by an expression that was cold and uncaring. He leaned closer, his breath cold against your skin.

"I made a deal," he said, his voice barely recognisable "A deal I didn’t think would cost me this much."

Your chest tightened, the room spinning as the weight of his words hit you. Heeseung hadn’t just been acting distant.

He had changed, slowly, undeniably. The person you thought you knew—your Heeseung,wasn’t standing in front of you anymore.

This thing, this thing in his skin, was something else entirely.

A cold, inhuman smile curled at the edges of his lips. "And there’s nothing you can do about it now."

As his smile widened, you saw something that made your blood run cold: his teeth were longer, sharper, glinting with some sort of an unnatural sheen, as if they were made for tearing, for hunting. His skin seemed to ripple, ever so slightly, like something moving beneath it.

And in that moment, with the weight of everything crashing down on you, you realized the horrifying truth: Heeseung had made a deal with something far older, far darker than you could ever comprehend. A deal with the devil, and it had come to collect.

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