#well more like déjà vu

[deedo2313]

I probably should have avoided any spoilers or trailers and never mind anything else going on with this show, but tbh if this absolutely senseless ill-thought out increasingly ooc Eddie & Chris storyline is dragged out much longer, I'll just have to cut my losses and move on. I've endured just about all the heartbreak I'm willing to put up with at this point.

[syb-la-tortue]

How do you think Deku's closest friends/family would react to him suddenly crying? I've been reading a lot of Angst and Hurt/Comfort fanfic and I was curious to see what you'd think.

Personally, I think Ochako would immediately hug him, no questions asked.

Bakugo would guide him to somewhere they would sit down and he'd stick with him.

but like, why is he crying? because Deku suddenly crying is just a thing he does every time he gets an emotion, he's a crybaby that's part of his character, and I say that in the most affectionate way I love that side of him X3

how his friends will react will just depend on why he's crying in the first place so yeah Ochako might hug him, or offer him a tissue, maybe they're sit down and have a talk, we know Todoroki and Iida will offer him food and try to cheer him up Bakugou I see being not very comfortable with other people's tears, so he might nope out of here or say something to make Deku stop crying Kiri being a empathic crier would just cry with him and they'd flood the room u_u

[svtskneecaps]

so what i'm putting together from osmosis and the wonderful livebloggers and the incredible arkanis english updates account is something like this

Prefeito Jota: Hello, I'd like to hire you to investigate what happened in my city/island(?)!

Bagi, who was previously "invited" to a mysterious island/city by its elected official, subsequently trapped on the mysterious island/city, investigated the deep mysterious history of the island/city, came to no conclusions, found her brother after years of searching, was separated once again from her brother, gained and lost an adopted daughter (possibly to being kidnapped by the island government, which was evil), gained and lost a demon fiancée (possibly to being dragged back to hell, so there's no way to find her), gained and lost a close demon friend to dubious circumstance (did he die for his children? is he with skeppy in the gas station?), and has had an unknown amount of time to process and/or suppress all of this: Sure! :D

[bagholes]

English subtitles for Johanne Sacreblue

You've probably heard of a parody of Emilia Pérez (produced by a Mexican trans woman!!!) called Johanne Sacreblue. The whole thing is in Spanish (and French, obviously), so I translated the whole thing to English (see read more)

While I wasn't involved in the production of the original short, I'm Mexican and I have a degree in Translation and Applied Linguistics, so hopefully you'll enjoy my translation. Please give the video some love and don't give Emilia Pérez more attention!!

!!!!!!!! ENGLISH SUBTITLES !!!!!!!!!

(Hey! I'm a professional translator, and I translated the whole thing in English. Please upvote so more people can enjoy this video!)

Ah, nauseating France.   

Home of wonderful food such as baguettes, croissants, and more.

Lots of wonderful people live here.

Obviously, we’re French. 

This might look like a love story,

but open your eyes and pay attention!

In France there’s rising burglary rates. 

But why tell you about France when I can show you?

Welcome to la France!

♫

Welcome to la France.

A unique and special country.

Where you’ll know what it means to truly love. Love, love from France.

Live the experience of this place. 

[Homer Simpson voice] Wow, classy.

Maitre D': Good evening, sir. Would you please leave without a fuss right now?

Homer: OK.

Welcome to la France

where you’ll get your heart stolen,

and your wallet, too.

Welcome to la France,

but if you’re Muslim, homosexual, or Black,

I want you to stay back. 

Crêpes? Les crêpes? I didn’t shower today. 

I’m not worried. I smell just fine. 

Like rats, sweat, and wine.

The cheese I eat smells better than me,

but my perfume can take care of it. 

I love feeling superior. 

Here’s some rapping just because. 

Oh, mon ami. Merci. Sacré bleu. Comment tu t’appelles? Merci. Déjà vu. Bon voyage! Pizza, kwason. 

It’s croissant, croissant, croissant!

Welcome to la France

where you’ll get your heart stolen,

and your wallet, too.

Welcome to la France,

but if you’re Muslim, homosexual, or Black,

I want you to stay back. 

Hit it, Mbappé. 

Viva Cinco the Mayo!

Long live cakes!

Marie Antoinette! 

Long live cakes!

My fucking crêpe still hurts when I think of you

Part 1: surprise and challenge.

Maybe all those years living in a ranch were good for him.

He wasn’t living in a ranch!

He lived in Mexico City for ten years.

Same thing. It might as well have been a jungle.

Mexicans are savages. 

Do you know what they do to cheese over there?

They eat it fresh!

I don’t think he copied their ways.

He’s still a good Frenchman.

He better be. I expect no less.

He’s my only son. 

All the suffering in Mexico must’ve gotten rid of his rebel nature. 

He’ll be the perfect man. The perfect male successor for the largest baguette company in France.

My son. My manly son. 

Did I already mention that my son is a man?

He’s here!

Maman, papa… bonjour!

Son of a-

[title credits] Johanne Sacreblue. Directed by someone with ADHD.

What were you up to in Mexico?

I learned how to open a beer using a bill.

Jonathan is using a dress, Bridgitte. And he has breasts! What do you think he was up to in Mexico?

Now my name is Johanne.

Nonsense! You’re not getting the company. No way. 

That’s fine. I don’t even want it. 

Honey, it’s your future. You’re our only DAUGHTER. You have to take the position. 

You’ll get the company. End of story. 

You don’t even want me to own the company!

Because I didn’t think it’s what you wanted!

Why did we stop speaking French?

What did you say?

Nothing. I got confused.

I’ll tell you something: remember the Ratatouille? They gave us this letter. They challenged us to the national France competition to decide once and for all what’s better: baguettes or croissants. 

Do you want to enjoy your fortune? Win this competition and manage the company. Or go back to Mexico to eat guacamole.

For the last time, no! You won’t get the company. 

I’m the only one who’s always loved croissants.

I’m the oldest son. It’s my right. 

Your right? How can think that about your brothers?

Any of them could do a good job.

Hugo can’t get over his artistic phase and he’s addicted to sniffing paint thinner!

I’m not just sniffing paint thinner! Yellow paint makes me happy.

Mario Hugo! Good luck with his twangy voice.

Mario Hugo: I agree with my beloved brother, but I love you, my family. 

No one knows what you’re saying!

Dugo is young! Why can’t it be me?

Well, first of all, you don’t have a penis!

Oof. Gotcha.

I’m trans. Other than that, I haven’t changed at all. 

Does it really affect you that much?

I’ve made myself clear: anything that affects our family affects me!

It’s not that we don’t love you, honey, it’s just that… you embarrass us. 

You’re not even an Hugo!

Yes, I am! I’m [French accent] Arturo! (Translator’s note: the rhyme got lost in translation. Sorry about that). 

“Arturo” isn’t “Hugo”!

Yes, it is! Ar-tu-ro!

Where did you get that?

Well… Chofls!! The letter!

The Sacrebleu have invited us to the Great Paris Competition. We will show once and for all what food item best represents our country! If you beat that family’s stupid transexual, you’ll get the company

I don’t know what to do, bestie. I don’t want to own that goddamn company. 

And why don’t you learn how to do something?

Because if I do it, they’re gonna cut me off, and I’ll be an unemployed, 28-year-old trans woman who has no life skills. 

Why don’t you just tell your father that you don’t want to do it and that you won’t do it?

It’s too late. I have no choice. 

Bestie, I’m so sorry you can’t enjoy your fortune with no commitment.

It’s awful…

Good evening, ladies. What can I get you?

I’ll have some French molletes.

I’ll have chicken.

Of course, ma’am. How shall we cook it?

Anything is fine as long as you kill it as cruelly as possible. 

Excellent choice, ma’am.

Anything else? Would that be all?

That’ll be all. Well, actually, I think I also want-

You said that would be all! You must assume the consequences of your decisions. Rot in hell! [spits]

Oh my, what a great service!

I know! They have the best customer service in France! Okay, so are you signing up for the competition?

I really don’t have a choice…

Bestie, you can do anything. You’re stronger than every woman I know, and I’m not just saying this because you used to be a man…

Thanks for the clarification.

You’re gonna compete and you’re gonna win.

Emily, you have no idea how much that means to me. You’re the only reason I wanted to come to Paris. I wanted to see my friend Emily in Paris. It was the only reason I wanted to come tot this city: see Emily in Paris.

Oh là là, I know! Everyone tells me that! What I don’t get is why you don’t want to compete. This is such an honor for France-

It’s just that there’s a lot of things I don’t understand since I came back. Why are we so impolite? Why do we love animal cruelty? And why exactly do we hate Muslims? 

Because it’s fun!

Yeah, maybe, but have you ever considered that it’s wrong?

Oh my God! You’re right! I’d never thought about it! We’re awful!

Oui!

What we do to birds… we drown them in cognac! Why are we doing it? Who thought of that?

I don’t know.

I feel.. dirty! I want to take a shower!

I knew I wasn’t crazy!

Seriously… I never thought that we were doing something wrong. I always thought that people who get minimum wage liked how we treat them. No wonder they sent you to Mexico… You’re crazy.

I got sent to Mexico for being trans.

They sent you to Mexico because you’ve been hallucinating. You’re seeing Marie Antoinette.

I’m not hallucinating! It’s the actual ghost of Marie Antoinette.

Marie Antoinette: don’t listen to hear. She dresses like a Guatemalan. I’m as real as my tragic death. They should behead her for having such damaged hair.

There’s no point in knowing the truth about France. At the end of the day, I’m just an ordinary French millionaire with enough money to live for four days. There’s nothing I can do.

Marie Antoinette: [unintelligible] sleep paralysis at night.

If you win, all of France will listen to you.

Ladybug: Welcome to the most important competition of la France, where France’s most important families will make a very important decision.

Cat Noir: that’s right! We’re here to make a very important decision. What food best represents France: baguettes or croissants?

Our fellow citizens will know what we’re talking about, but for those dirty foreigners that only know how to use soap…

Wear perfume!

We’ll explain the rules.

There’s two events: whoever wins both will be victorious!

The first even will be a race! The first one to reach the Eiffel tower, touch it and say our catchphrase “we give up!” will be the winner!

Without further ado, we’re heading to the competition!

It’s the best race I’ve seen years!

The Ratatouille throw a croissant to the Sacreblue and almost slashes her throat. It’s cat-tastic!

But Johanne takes the lead with 400 rats, and she wins the race!

Rats! Meow!

Here she comes!

Vive la France!

Your love for croissants ends here. What an embarrassment!

Don’t feel bad, honey. I never really expected anything from you. 

Arturo, I’m not gonna lie…

Brother, defeat will only make you stronger.

What?

You’re a great man. You’ll make it. 

Can I have five French dollars to buy yellow paint? I want to paint. 

Later that night in some French dumpster

♫

I’m just a trash man in Paris.

Another piece of trash in Paris.

But I’m also the greatest trash

I’m the trash man.

I’m such trash that I made a fortune using other cultures.

I’m such trash that I enjoy cancelling last minute

because I’m scared 

that they’ll see my tiny baguette.

I don’t have the guts to say that I fucked up.

I’m scared to know what people think of me

If I’m a good guy or just a bald bad guy

I’m such trash that it’s embarrassing.

I thought Karla Sofia was from Puebla.

I’m such trash that I wrote a musical about narcos.

“Penis to vagina, woman to man.”

What the fuck was that shit, bro?

I’m disgusting, don’t you see? 

I’m disgusting, don’t you see? 

Part 2: from hate to love

Why did you ask me to meet you here?

[sigh] I came to ask you to stop fighting over something as dumb as bread.

Baguettes are just bread, but croissants are France itself. It’s in our veins, in our wine, in the air we breathe!

Arturo, wait, don’t do it!

[coughing]

You can’t take a deep breath in France. Dumbass.

Whatever. You’re just saying this because you’ve been away for a long time. You’re nothing but a chimichanga lover. 

Cinco de Mayo!

How dare you!

Does it make you feel good to be a man hitting a woman?

Actually, yes. Now I get why we do it.

I’ve had enough! I can’t take it anymore! What’s wrong with France? Why do they like to hit women? Why do they like racism? Can’t you see that what we’re doing is wrong?

Actually, no. I had never thought about it. I never considered that… Oh my God… We’re monsters! What are we doing? We must put an end to this!

But how?

You’ll do it with me. With your amazing arguments, we’ll change France. 

Do you think it can be done? But how?

Oui, mademoiselle. If you let me win the second event, it’ll be a tie, and they’ll have to listen to us according to the French rules I hadn’t mentioned before. 

I don’t know if I can trust you.

Trust me, mademoiselle. Trust this stinky French heart.

Alright. Kiss me.

Do you want me to kiss you?

Yes. Give me a French kiss.

Here it’s just “a kiss”, stupid

Welcome to the second competition!

This is the most fabulous competition! It’s the racism competition!

That’s right, Cat Noir! And for those stupid Americans who don’t know what we’re talking about, in this competition, participants are given a total of 30 minutes to deport and catch as many immigrants as possible.

Everything is allowed: from making up crimes to blackmailing! 

Each Muslim is worth 5 points. However, participants can get extra points from hate crimes against Muslims, Black people, Latinos, members of the LGBT community, and fans of Emily in Paris!

Let’s watch the racism competition!

We apologize for the technical issues. Cat Noir had a fanatic episode. 

It was amazing! With a great lead, our winner, Arturo, was victorious. So we’ll have to call this a tie. 

Oh! For the first time in more than ten years, we’re getting some words from our ten French emperors!

Stop!

There… won’t be… a tie!

This decision will no longer be postponed. 

 Declaramos abierto el duelo final.

And it’ll happen right now.

Because I love Queen Marie Antoinette.

The final duel…

It’s the fight to the death with baguettes!

Good luck! And may the Frenchest win. Yes. Oui. Oui. Oui.

[Elmo]

Part 3: destiny

Fight to the death with baguettes?!

Fight to the death with baguettes?!

Fight to the death with baguettes?!

I think there’s gonna be a fight to the death with baguettes.

What? Fight to the death with baguettes? What’s that?

Oh, fight to the death with baguettes. I’ve heard about it. I think they’re gonna fight to the death… with baguettes.

[gasp]

Johanne: I don’t want to fight to the death with baguettes with you.

Arturo: Neither do I, but we have no choice.

J: Yes, there is. Haven’t they considered that this is wrong?

No!

Arturo: Papa Johns!

Papa Johns: I pitted your families against you with a little help from whom you love the most… your butlers. 

Arturo: Chofls!

Johanne: Wigles, why?

Wiggles: I’m sorry, madame. I need the money, and you haven’t given me raise in 25 years. 

Papa Johns: I’ll destroy you so the greatest French food gets recognition: French fries!

Johanne: You’re losing a lot of wine.

Johanne: you have a rat on your head!

Papa Johns: this tiny chef taught me his secrets, and I used them for evil. 

Wigles: I think I got Stockholm syndrome due to so many years of labor exploitation.

And that’s how we got away from the bad guy, Mr. French ambassador. 

Controlled by a rat… The nightmare of every French. Ladies and gentlemen, that’s how Johanne Sacreblue and Arturo Ratatouille restored the glory of France. What a captivating story you’ve brought us, full of pain and social commentary. Is there anything else you would like to add before we run out of funds?

Well, actually, yes. As many of you know, I went to Mexico, and my fellow Mexicans asked me to bring a gift to France when I came back, and what a better person to give it to than the ambassador? 

Oh, what wonderful surprise have you brought from Mexico? Could it be some wonderful Mexican tortillas?

Wait… Is that-

Yes, a cake. Un gâteau. 

[Credits]

And that’s the story of how your parents saved la France.

Thanks for telling me these stories, grandma.

My grand-son. My grand-son, a boy…

[sigh] 

♫

Tito, my grandson Tito (translator’s note: another rhyme that got lost in translation. Sorry again). Tito, tito. My grandson Tito. 

You smell like frog legs in the morning.

You smell like you haven’t showered in weeks. 

You smell like a moldy baguette.

You smell like the omelette that I ate. 

You smell like cheese. Smelly, smelly!

You smell like your grandma.

Tito, Tito, Tito, my grandson Tito. 

You smell like snails. You smell like escargot.

You smell like France. 

[hyeinette]

✿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝗆𝖾!⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ─── ⠀ their fav places to be kissed by you.

f!r⠀ ♡ ⠀ est relationship fluff kissing skinship 𝑓.⠀ ───⠀ 16OO >ᴗ<

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝑙𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑦⠀⠀⠀୨୧ ⠀⠀⠀𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀⠀〝⠀ 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚⠀⠀⠀𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠

"just one more, please.” heeseung asked, though there was no question in his tone.

you’d kissed him again for the somethingth time that night. at first, it started out chaste, so how you were now on your boyfriend’s lap kissing him like there was no tomorrow was beyond your knowledge.

“hee, i really need to—” your words were muffled and fruitless against his lips.

heeseung knew it’d soon be too dark for you to leave, but pulling away seemed like a crazy thought, especially now, because of the way you were kissing him so dearly while tugging at his hair.

he loved kissing you, for your lips tasted honey and something foreign that only you wielded.

to his dismay though, you pulled away too soon, staring at him with swollen lips, ragged breaths, and flushed cheeks.

“stop,” you booped his noise playfully; a stark contrast to the zeal prior. “i have to go.”

“maybe one more kiss?” he bargained, pushing your handbag back to the floor when you tried to pick it up before his hands once again found purchase on the slightly exposed skin of your waist.

“well, one turns into twenty turns into fifty with you, so no.” you said, giggling at the way he groaned and threw his head back dramatically.

“you’re boring.”

you feigned a gasp. “i’m plenty fun, thank you very much.”

heeseung scrunched his nose and dumbly tried to stop you from leaving by nudging your lower leg with his foot (it didn’t work).

“if you were fun, you’d kiss me again.” he said with a shrug.

“no,” you responded curtly, gathering your keys and scarf.

he groaned again as you slipped out of his room, sticking your tongue at him. “boo!”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚⠀⠀ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑

jay was the type to be romantic, and you were the type to pick up on your lover’s little habits. you noticed how jay always kissed your hand: before a date, before bed, while in the car… anywhere, really.

soon enough, you found yourself returning the gesture.

one day, the two of you were curled up in bed, his arm around your shoulder and your head atop his chest.

you were near the point of sleep, but you felt the need to stretch this moment with his for as long as you could.

as your eyelids betrayed you and nearly shut, the sound of jay’s laughter vibrated through his chest, jerking you back awake.

“sleepy?” 

“no,” you lied.

“liar,” he said, “what’s making you stay up?”

you hummed some response and lifted your head off his chest, turning towards his hand before placing a lingering, sleepy kiss on the back of it.

jay tensed under your lips for an instant, but then he smiled and relaxed, the familiar feeling of your lips on his hand gave him déjà vu. you were doing what he so often did to you.

he held your chin and turned your head towards his, so that you had no choice but to stare into his doting eyes.

“get some rest, my lovely girl.”

and with that, you did, falling asleep to the cadence of his heartbeat and the lullaby of his presence.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡⠀⠀𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒

“jake!” you whined, running up to the boy who was seated in his gaming chair, clicking at a controller which you never understood.

your voice greeted him before your face did, and he turned abruptly, looking for you. at the sight of you, spent and so so tired, with bags under your eyes and a telling pout on your lips, his heart dropped, and he opened his arms for you.

you accepted the offer, burying your face in the crook of his neck and sighing against his skin, eliciting a shiver from him. his arms wrapped around your waist and ran along your back.

“i—” kiss, “am—” kiss “so—” kiss, “tired—” kiss, “today!” kiss.

between every word, you trailed an open-mouthed kiss down his collarbone. you weren’t exactly sure why, but you just wanted to make sure he knew how much you appreciate him. and you wanted to kiss him, too, but hey.

jake’s smile grew with every kiss. you were so cute in his eyes, always knotting up his mind with every action—especially when that action was kissing his neck.

whenever you did so, you made his heart stop, and then beat at a rate tenfold faster. it was just such a sweet, intimate thing to him.

he pulled your head up to face him, memorizing the sight of you. still pretty, even when exhausted at 11:41 PM.

“well,” he teased, “not too tired to kiss me, i guess?”

your eyes narrowed. “don’t ridicule me.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡⠀⠀𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑

sunghoon felt you were the only person he could let his guard down around. usually so rigid, he always eased up when he was laying between your thighs, staring into your eyes as you worked your fingers through the slight tangles in his hair.

he was tethering between sleep and wakefulness, and you could tell. you didn’t mind him falling asleep like this in your arms. 

he shifted slightly and looked up at you, eyes flickering to your lips. you didn’t waste another second before leaning down, pushing his hair away from his forehead and then kissing him there.

sunghoon let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding before smiling up at you, running his hand across your cheek gently.

“you seem comfy,” you teased, leaning into his touch.

“i always am with you.”

you blushed and bit your lip, not entirely sure how to answer.

“go to sleep.”

you didn’t have to tell him twice. sunghoon found himself drifting off to sleep, with the thought of your warmth and your lips on his forehead still fresh in his mind.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢⠀⠀𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑦

the two of you decided to bake a strawberry sponge cake this sunday. rather an impromptu decision, really (actually, it was because you wanted homemade cake).

you were tasked with cutting up a bowl of strawberries, while sunoo made the chantilly cream. simple, in theory, but sadly, you had no baking experience whatsoever!

sunoo was at first staring at you with a smile, the erupting adoration he held for you in his chest reflecting through his dilated pupils. but then, as his eyes shifted to your rushed slicing, he gasped dramatically; his reverence turning into repulse.

“what are you doing!” he exclaimed, taking the knife from you.

you shrugged innocently, tilting your head so that your hair poured over one shoulder. “what you told me to?”

“i didn’t tell you to slaughter the strawberries,” he huffed before cutting the strawberries, this time more gracefully.

you giggled, plucking an uncut strawberry from the bowl. “whoops.”

“put that down,” sunoo said with mock-seriousness in his tone.

he wasn’t actually annoyed at you. never at you.

you looked at him with faux innocence, and then brought the half-eaten strawberry up to his lips. sunoo bit down on it, and that made you blush. an indirect kiss.

“well,” sunoo said, but his voice was less dictatorial now, and noticeably more soft, “you could at least pretend to help me with the baking.”

“right!” you nodded and furrowed your brows. “i’ll preheat the oven. you know, we should just heat it at 8,750 degrees for one minute, rather than 350 for 25.”

“y/n, no! don’t touch that oven!”

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡⠀⠀𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡

the first time you kissed his wrist, it was before a dance performance.

his nervousness was evident, manifesting in the frenetic way he'd paced back and forth and adjusted his loose tie for the nth time.

"you'll do great. you always do," you assured him, looking up at him with a supportive smile and a slight tilt of your head.

jungwon furrowed his brows, staring down at your perched figure, “but what if i mess up?”

his hand sought your face (it eased him, or so he said), running his fingers over your cheekbones slightly. you couldn’t help not leaning into his touch, holding onto his forearm.

“you won’t,” you placed a feathery kiss on his wrist, his pulse and cologne fluttering right under your lips. “i know you won’t.”

the action of your lips on his wrist, though small and barely even tangible, was there; for reasons inexplicable, it soothed him, and a blush ripened jungwon’s cheeks. he found himself suddenly smiling, as if his prior worries were a thing of the long past.

“you always know just what to say, baby.”

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜⠀⠀𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑘

riki was already really tall, and standing next to your shorter figure just accentuated his height, if anything.

whenever the two of you were in public—say, in a crowded shopping mall—and you wanted a kiss, you’d sometimes be too shy to ask, especially with all the people standing around the two of you.

so, you’d pull on his arm, so that he was slightly more level with you, and then you’d tip-toe, leaning up just enough to reach his cheek.

at this point, riki was turned towards you, his attention fully on you, more so than it always is.

you placed your chin on his shoulder and peppered a casual kiss there.

riki liked your little shoulder kisses. one, because they were sweet, and two, because they always led to him grabbing your chin and tilting it up to face him.

he’d admire your coy grin for maybe a second or two before his eyes darted towards your lips, and he was suddenly filling the distance between the two of you, pecking your lips tenderly; all the people around you two suddenly seemed to disappear.

sure, he might’ve hated PDA, but to kiss you, he could make an exception.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon King Headcanons

You have accepted the Demon King’s marriage proposal! Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance

[Main Story]

The proposal, as you quickly found out, came as a surprise to everyone. Not even the King’s loyal butler knew of such intentions; he’d assumed they were finally going to destroy everything and everyone at once. To him, the dramatic scene of you and his Lord enveloped in flames was anything but a romantic confession. It was your final battle. So one might imagine the poor lizard’s confusion when the Demon King returned with you following behind. “S-sir?” He questioned meekly. The armored creature nodded at his servant. “It has been done. We’ll plan the wedding upon our arrival home.” The what? His baffled expression must’ve given him away, because the Demon continued: “What’re you gawking like that for? Didn’t I ask you earlier how humans forge a bond?” The butler stumbled to search for his words, swallowing dryly. “Well y-yes, your Majesty…I just didn’t expect it to be anything more than curiosity.”

The same speechless reaction repeated itself all the way to the Kingdom. Soldiers, diplomats, other monstrous entities of the unknown Land, they all greeted you in disbelief. So much, in fact, that you began to poke fun at their hesitant response: “I am his mortal enemy”, you’d announce with a dramatic bow. “Spouse! We talked about this!” the Demon Lord would quickly correct you, flustered.

Truth be told, you're not quite sure what made you accept this ridiculous offer. Perhaps a mixture of intrigue and disillusionment. The city you've dedicated yourself to stood no longer, burnt to a crisp along with its corruption and crookery. In a way, the monster had unshackled you from a responsibility you no longer wanted to bear. And if that wasn't enough to convince you, well, the sight of the Ruler himself kneeling before you certainly sealed the deal.

Although it may take a while for you to accept the idea that your worst adversary had actually been infatuated with you this entire time. Were there even any hints? During your last battle you nearly died. You'd crawled out of an enormous crater on your fours, bones shattered and ligaments torn. When you pointed this out to your groom-to-be, he stared at you in horror. "I had no idea humans were that fragile. I was trying to adjust my strength so as to not do any harm." You could only nod, patting away the sweat beads forming on your forehead. Uh huh. Maybe it's better you didn't experience his full range of attacks.

Ever since the devastating revelation, he's been extra careful when handling you. Sometimes he'll awkwardly hover his large hands above you, with a concentrated frown on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm trying to be gentle." he'll answer. "You're not even touching me." Fair point, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The Demon King will often ask you about customs from your world as a way to make you comfortable, just in case you get struck by the occasional homesickness. His Realm is very different from what you're used to, after all. Lamentably, his own years spent in the human world were not too fruitful from a cultural point of view. He was either busy stalking you or devouring the souls of the innocent. Now that he has nothing else to worry about, he will gladly listen and even do his best to actively participate.

You wake up shrouded in thick smoke. Overwhelmed by heavy déjà vu, you rush down the grand stairs, searching for the source of the fire. Are you being attacked? Enemies of the Demon King? You elbow yourself against the kitchen door, similar to when you left your home to find the city ablaze. The Demon Lord turns to face you, visibly overwhelmed and exhausted. You gawk at the scene unfolding before you and remember to close your mouth, mainly out of politeness. "It's too small. I'm afraid I cannot use it", he reveals timidly, holding a human spatula between his fingers to showcase the impractical size difference. You glance at the disastrous attempt behind him and manage to deduce he'd been trying to make breakfast. In an unspoken agreement, he steps back and allows you to take over.

"I'm surprised you let him burn down the kitchen", you mention to the butler once you get a moment to yourself. The scaly servant sighs, and theatrically lifts his clawed hands in hopelessness. "Pointless to argue with him when he's like this, (Y/N). In my entire life serving the Family, I've never witnessed a more stubborn leader." He points to the lavish portraits adorning the walls with a faint smile. "And, to put it frankly, he's obsessed with you. I've never seen him in a more deplorable state. Marrying a human?! The shame, the outrage!” he cries out. “No offense intended to you, of course. You must understand." You hum in agreement, a tad uncomfortable, yet sympathetic. "M-maybe it'll tone down after the wedding?" you suggest as encouragement. "Oh, no, I suspect it will only get worse", he bemoans in return. Then, he promptly straightens his back and resumes his duties.

You go on your own way, not wanting to burden the lizard in his work. As you cross the hallway, you find the Demon King himself scanning each room, somewhat agitated. He notices you and his features soften. "I was wondering where you'd vanished." You approach him with the words of the butler still ringing in your ears.

[frmisnow]

ㅤ▌ ͟PINK RIBBONS & PRETTY LITTLE LIES! ⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀ ♬᭢ 𝟏.𝟓𝐤 smut . nsfw

SUMMARY in which you wear the set of lingerie that jungkook got you last valentine.. back when everything was going well (aka. before you broke up) ─── and he's reminded of how it felt to be yours and vice versa

jungkook shouldn't be here.

he knows it the second he steps through the threshold, the air too sweet, too warm, too familiar. it clings to his skin like a your perfume used to, drowning him in déjà vu. he’s been inside this apartment before — slept in that bed, kissed against that kitchen counter, fucked on that couch.

but right now? he's just a visitor. hell, a guest. not even a welcomed one, at that.

“you said you needed something?” your voice is a bit lower then usual, cautious, the same way it always is when you don’t know what to do with him.

jungkook blinks, coming back to himself. “yeah,” he says, tugging at his sleeve. “uh. my charger.”

it’s a lie. a shitty one.

your brow lifts, unconvinced clearly a bit amused. “your charger?”

“yeah,” he repeats, stuffing his hands into his pockets doing his best as to not act like he’s not already regretting this. “i think i left it here last time.”

he doesn’t mention that last time was two months ago, right before everything went to shit.

you’re still watching him, lips pressed together like you want to say something, maybe call him out. but then you sigh, defeated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ll check,” you reply simply, before turning towards your bedroom.

and that’s when he sees it.

just a glimpse, a flash of pink — delicate, silky, peeking out from beneath your shirt. a thin little strap sliding against your shoulder, trailing down your back, thin and precise.

valentine’s day. the last one — before everything went to shit.

he still remembers it in vivid, aching detail, the way the night bled into morning, how thd walls shook from how hard he fucked you, the imprint of your nails down his back when he m ade you come for the fourth time. how ruined you sounded, voice hoarse from moaning his name, from begging, from pleading — not that you ever needed to. jungkook would have given you anything.

he did.

i got you something, he’d said, fingers running along your spine as you sat on his lap, bare and so fucking soft. you gotta open it, though.

you had, with a lazy, knowing smile — already looking at him like you knew whatever was inside would be sinful. after all, you knew him so well.

the second you pulled out the pink lace, you’d laughed. "you’re such a perv."

yeah? his teeth had found your shoulder, licking over the fragile skin, before biting into it gently. put it on for me, then.

and fuck, you had. you did.

he’d known you’d look good in it, but nothing could have prepared him for how perfect it was — how the fabric hugged your tits, how the straps stretched over your hips, how the sheer paneling did little to nothing in hiding the way your cunt was already glistening for him.

then, fucked you slow at first, dragging it out, making you whimper, making y ou work for it. made you ride him just so he could watch you — so he could see how your tits bounced in that pretty little thing, so he could slip his hands under the fabric and yank until it nearly tore. he’d wanted to see you in it, wanted to make you come in it, wanted to make sure the next time you put it on, all you’d think about was him.

and now — now you’re wearing it again.

not for him.

something ugly twists in his chest.

“why?” his voice is quieter than he means for it to be. rougher.

you freeze, hand still reaching for the box on the top shelf. “what?”

“why are you wearing it?”

there’s a visable pause, just a second, showing you clearly gave more thought into this, then you pretended.

jungkook steps forward, fingers twitching. “did you wear it for him?”

he doesn’t say the name. doesn’t need to.

your shoulders go stiff, but you don’t turn around. “It’s just lingerie, jungkook.”

his jaw clenches. “it wasn’t just lingerie when I bought it for you.”

a deep inhale, measured. “things change.”

his presence is suffocating behind you. close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, the way his breaths are heavier now. fuck, when did he even manage to get so close? you swallow, slow. "it’s just lingerie," you repeat, but there’s no actual conviction behind it.

“take it off.”

jungkook exhales sharply through his nose, a scoff bordering on a laugh, like he's going fucking insane. which by the way this conversation was going, he probably will. then, he’s closing the distance in one step, inked hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him so your spine meets his chest. he’s warm. solid.

there's something familar and comforting in feeling him.

“you wore this for him?” his palm drags under your shirt, right to tracing over the lace, which was just as silky as he remembered “him?” like it was an insult to him personally.

you swallow. “jungkook—”

“tell me he made you come in it.” his hand moving below your waistline, flattens against your core. you suck in a sharp breath, heat pooling between your thighs. “tell me he fucked you in my lingerie.” his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. his cock is rock hard, pressing into the small of your back.

“did he make you feel good?” he tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your neck. “did he make you beg?” another kiss, softer. his fingers press harder. “did he make you cry for it?”

you gasp, hips bucking forward.

“i bet he didn’t,” jungkook murmurs, his fingers slip under the lace, gliding over your slit audibly groaning at how wet you were, “bet he didn’t fuck you like you deserved.”

“bet he didn’t even touch you like this.” he slides a finger inside you, slow, deep. you whimper, "baby, i know he can't."

your head falls back onto his shoulder, a soft string of noise slipping past of your lips while his thumb rubs gentle circles around your clit, “i can love you so much better than he can.”

you breathe his name out, barerly, rocking your hips against his hand. “fuck,” he hisses, sliding another finger inside you. his lips ghost over your neck, pressing a few more kisses onto the skin, his breathing uneven. “need you, baby.”

his fingers move before his mind does, turning your head to his direction as he presses his lips onto yours, effectively lifting you onto the dresser behind you.

jungkook doesn’t realize he’s barerly breathing until you turn to face him, arms folding over your chest, pushing your tits up against the delicate lace. he can’t even be mad anymore. not when you look like this.

“jungkook,” you start, voice quieter than before. maybe even a little guilty. maybe not.

“can love you so much better than he can,” he breathes against your mouth, lips brushing, voice smitten almost as if he was begging. “you know that, right? you know.”

the hesitation in your eyes almost kills him. but then — then you sigh, melting against him, pressing into his chest with a softness that makes something in his stomach twist. your arms loop around his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair, tugging.

“kook,” you whimper, voice barely above a whisper as if it were a secret, only between the both of you. “kiss me.”

while groaning, jungkook drags you up against him, hands gripping at the backs of your thighs, forcing your legs around his waist. kisses you until you’re gasping, until you’re tilting your head back, mouth agape, letting him trail his mouth down the curve of your jaw, your throat, biting down when he reaches your collarbone.

he stumbles toward the bed, nearly toppling both of you over when he lays you down, panting, hands running over your thighs, pushing them apart. his cock aches in his sweats, already damp at the tip, already too hard to be rational.

“you wore this for him?” he asks again, just to watch you squirm. just to see the way your cheeks flush, the way your brows pinch together, that guilty expression that was almost grazing slutty.

“it’s just lingerie,” you whisper, shaky. who were you even fooling? not jungkook, that's for sure.

he snickers, disapprovingly yet there was no real malice, not in his gaze, not in his tone. he licks over the lace first, just to make you whine, pressing the fabric against your soaked cunt with his tongue, groaning at the taste. then, he tugs the panties to the side again, diving in properly, flattening his tongue against you.

your thighs jolt, fingers curling into the sheets, a choked gasp escaping when jungkook drags his tongue up your slit, slow, deliberate, savoring.

“fuck,” he mutters against you, hot breath sending a shiver up your spine. he licks again, rougher this time, pressing in, teasing at your entrance before flicking back up to your clit.

your breath stutters, hips bucking, but his hands are already on you, gripping, holding you down with a bruising force.

“keep still,” he says, voice thick, taunting. you can only whimper, thighs trembling, while jungkook hums in approval, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking, slow and deep. your fingers find his hair, tugging, and he groans, pressing his tongue against you harder.

“so fuckin’ sweet,” he breathes, slipping a hand between your legs, thumb rubbing slow circles over your slick folds, spreading your wetness. “bet he’s never had you like this, huh?”

you don’t answer. can’t. not when jungkook slides a finger inside you, then another, stretching you, pressing deep until he finds that spot that has you gasping, back arching. oh sweet sweet past, guess some things really do stay the same.

[fear-is-truth]

NSFW ALPHABET — REMMICK

warnings — MDNI 18+・ fem!reader ・nsfw・not proofread

𝓐 = 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 . . . what he’s like after sex

it depends. if you’re still human, he’ll be more attentive—wipes you down with a damp rag, presses a few idle kisses along your shoulder while you lay in his arms.

if you’ve been turned, the emotional barrier between you is much thinner, if not nonexistent. there’s silence, but not emptiness; the hive-mind makes pillow talk redundant. you both lie still, overstimulated and wired, thinking at each other. more often than not, you start fucking again. neither of you really need rest, and it’s easy to lose a few hours that way.

────────

𝓑 = 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 . . . his favorite body part of his & yours

he’s a thigh man. and an ass man. both. you could be walking past him and he’ll just land one playfully.

his own favourite part of himself is his hands: thick, calloused and skilled in many ways.

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𝓒 = 𝐂𝐔𝐌 . . . anything to do with cum, basically

remmick is so gross about it. drools for it, actually. blood is sustenance but your cum is indulgence. he’ll eat you out and stay down there after you’ve finished just to lap up the slick between your thighs.

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𝓓 = 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 . . . pretty self explanatory

he’s entertained the idea of letting you taking control—act mean and tell him what to do.

────────

𝓔 = 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 . . . how experienced is he? does he know what he’s doing?

centuries. there’s nothing you do that surprises him—except how much he likes you.

────────

𝓕 = 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 . . . this goes without saying

remmick loves hittin’ it from the back. he prefers it when you have your ass up while he works himself in—so that he can admire every ripple of flesh when he bottoms out or smacks your asscheek.

────────

𝓖 = 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐘 . . . is he more serious in the moment? or is he humorous? etc.

yes, actually. the foreplay gets kind of stupid sometimes.

he hums under his breath when he eats you out, and has this nasty little habit of nipping at your inner thigh just to hear you squeal in surprise. “whisht, sweet girl,”

but the minute he’s inside you, all the humour drains out and he’s dead serious. you go from laughing to screaming (in pleasure) in no time.

he seems to be the type of guy who talks to your pussy.

────────

𝓗 = 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 . . . how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

a full bush ! your combined cum always get smeared through the hair at the base.

────────

𝓘 = 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 . . . how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect

he’s kind of a hopeless romantic in his own right, albeit his lewd way of expressing it.

sex with him is so deeply instinctual, even the first time feels like a déjà vu. maybe it’s the way he worms into your thoughts and adjusts to what you like. or the way you start to want what he likes, whether you meant to or not. either way, it never feels unsatisfying.

────────

𝓙 = 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅𝐅 . . . masturbation headcanon

when he jerks off, he thinks about the time you sat on his face. a lot. often licks his lips without meaning to, like he can still taste you. never quiet about it—low groans, timed just right so you’ll hear him. he wants your attention.

────────

𝓚 = 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 . . . one or more of his kinks

blood play, coercion, breeding, spitting, semi-public stuff : not exhibitionism exactly—just the risk of being caught.

────────

𝓛 = 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 . . . favourite places to do the deed

anywhere. he’s not picky. up against trees. laid out on blankets in a field. once fucked you half-submerged in a creek because it was a hot summer night and you wouldn’t shut up about swimming.

────────

𝓜 = 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 . . . what turns him on

your blood. your body. your mind. he gets off on knowing you want it. hive mind gives you away, even if you’re shy.

also: boredom. he’s immortal, there’s not much else that keeps him entertained like you do.

────────

𝓝 = 𝐍𝐎 . . . something he wouldn’t do, turn offs

he’s open to almost anything (except for stuff that involves garlic or silver), but the idea of watching you with someone else? nope. he’s the jealous type.

────────

𝓞 = 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋 . . . preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

remmick is a giver, first and foremost. obsessed with it. doesn’t simply enjoy it—he practically turned eating pussy into a form of art.

he likes receiving too, of course. has this habit where he keeps on hand wrapped loosely around your throat when you’re sucking him off. he’s very vocal and enthusiastic.

────────

𝓟 = 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 . . . is he fast and rough? slow and sensual?

he can go fast and rough, especially if he’s hungry or pissed off—but what he truly prefers is slow and sensual.

────────

𝓠 = 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 . . . his opinions on quickies

happens more often than not. he can take you apart in under two minutes if he wants to—you never go long without it. there’s always a reason to pull you aside.

────────

𝓡 = 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊 . . . is he game to experimenting? does he take risks? etc.

yes ! you often have sex in semi-secluded spots.

────────

𝓢 = 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀 . . . how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?

fucking endless. you’ve gone hours before. day into night, hips sore and thighs shaking. he lets you take breaks and drink some water, then gets hard the second you crawl back over him. if you’re human, he’ll hold back. but if you’re turned? that’s a different story.

────────

𝓣 = 𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐒 . . . does he own toys? does he use them? on you or himself?

he doesn’t own any toys; but he’s not too squeamish about it either.

────────

𝓤 = 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 . . . how much he likes to tease

he’s wildly unfair. if you’re turned, he’ll hijack your thoughts through the hive-mind, conjure up the most sordid fantasies and let that pulse into you at random.

kind of a sore loser. if you tease remmick, he’ll humour you in the beginning but soon gets impatient.

────────

𝓥 = 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 . . . how loud he is, what sounds he makes

100% a grunter and a moaner. very loud, too.

────────

𝓦 = 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 . . . a random headcanon

one night, remmick fucked you on top of a still-warm corpse—some white-robed klansman whose blood was still slick on remmick’s mouth. he was wild from feeding, pupils blown wide, and you’d never seen him like that—so feral, so desperate. it was the best sex you ever had.

────────

𝓧 = 𝐗-𝐑𝐀𝐘 . . . what’s going on under those clothes

in terms of length, he’s about 6.5 inches, but he’s got a thick girth — enough so that you can feel every vein and ridge. it’s a lot to take in, even when you’re used to it.

────────

𝓨 = 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . how high is his sex drive?

unreasonably high. you don’t go a day without him getting his hands on you.

────────

𝓩 = 𝐙𝐙𝐙 . . . how quickly he falls asleep afterwards

no, he doesn’t fall asleep after sex. he’s a vampire—he doesn’t need sleep the way humans do, and even when he rests, it’s more like going still than truly drifting off. after sex, he usually stays awake next to you, watching.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki’s masterlist ♡ !

lil blurbs ! ( i'm just talkin'):

katsuki likes to make you laugh

katsuki's love language

katsuki is so dramatic

katsuki likes to bite you

childhood bodyguard! katsuki

katsuki x popstar! reader

katsuki is fun to mess with

katsuki really likes the way you smell

hockey player! bakugou

sleepy kisses w katsuki

katsuki and compliments

katsuki doesn't give a fuck

goodnight kiss (or the one where katsuki isn’t good at asking for, well…anything.)

suck up katsuki

could've fooled me ( or the one where you peel your orange yourself and katsuki is not happy)

katsuki and your naps (or the one where katsuki hates kaminari)

katsuki is a big baby

katsuki and your arm

katsuki and (non sexual) hickies ! more !

no good thief ! (or the one where katsuki finds out who’s been stealing his clothes)

sleeping on the couch

katsuki and petnames…kinda

katsuki in a suit

katsuki is dramatic again (or the one where katsuki isn’t worried..really.)

katsuki and ice cream

katsuki and changing

katsuki doesn't give a fuck, again !

your almost boyfriend katsuki

baby suki

katsuki accidentally hurts you

the outside world

katsuki and goodbye kisses

katsuki and i miss you's

katsuki's scarf

katsuki the comedian

katsuki and your birthday

katsuki texting hcs !

crybaby katsuki

get me some ramen pls!

katsuki and physical affection

kitsuki :3

katsuki and urges

katsuki and your necklace

lil fics ! ( i ramble a little longer) :

katsuki is in trouble

katsuki's extra clingy when he's sleepy

from the start (or the one where you've been katsuki's for as long as you can remember)

you are not the father ! (or watching the maury show with katsuki)

katsuki hates seeing you cry

unchanged apologies (or the one where katsuki's childhood habits remains the same)

fire-breathing roommate chronicles (or living w dragon bkg)

baking cookies with katsuki

can't love anyone more than you

katsuki can't say no to you (not that he wants to) (or the one where katsuki takes care of you after you get drunk) part two !

déjà vu : ( or the one where katsuki thinks about you) bnha manga spoilers !!

the bet (or the one where your classmates make a bet.)

this night has opened my eyes (or the one where katsuki cleans up your injuries)

valentine's day troubles (or the one where katsuki's friends help him out for valentines day )

boyfriend for sale ! (or the one where your boyfriend forgets to ask you to be his valentine) feat. shoto todoroki !

ewww, katsu's got cooties ! (or the one where katsuki is too cool for cooties)

two of hearts (or the one where katsuki wakes up) bnha manga spoilers !!

31 days (or the one where katsuki surprises you)

habits (or little habits katsuki's developed ever since he's met you) slight bnha manga spoilers !!

while i search for the way to your world, leave a mark on your way (or the one where katsuki has his first real fight with you)

jealous, jealous, jealous girl ! (or the one where your boyfriend gets too much attention)

half return (or the one where katsuki decides to go home for the weekend and brings you with him) bnha manga spoilers !!

black coffee (or the one where katsuki hates it)

power outage (or the one where katsuki always lights up the way for you)

sick days (or the one where katsuki takes care of you when you’re sick)

operation : trouble in paradise ! (or the one where katsuki tries to get his bf privileges back)

memory box (or the one where you take katsuki on a trip down memory lane)

tell me why..your hands are cold (or the one where katsuki is definitely better than the heater)

coming home (or the one where things are just more convenient with katsuki)

chicken scratches (or the one where katsuki's hand writing is atrocious and you love it) slight bnha manga spoilers !!

the way things go (or the one where izuku midoriya is your number one shipper)

longer fics / mini series and events ! ( get comfy 'cuz this one's a multi-parter !) :

♡ fire-breathing roommate chronicles !♡ when an injured, mysterious, and incredibly handsome dragon man blasts through the wall of your apartment, you decide to let him stay with you until he's fully healed. despite the struggles of co-habitating with a mythical beast, his mysterious past and annoyingly sharp tongue, you find you can't help feeling drawn to him..

♡ fire-breathing boyfriend chronicles ! ♡ some short ‘n sweet little extra’s following the events of fbrc starring our favorite now dragon boyfriend bakugou !

ring pop proposal ♡ 1 2 3 ♡ the three times where mitsuki realizes that her katsuki is in love with you (and she realizes you love him back)

♡ ring pops, chocolates proposals ! ♡ katsuki loves you throughout the years.

an explosive birthday (collab event for the days leading up to katsuki's birthday !) see masterlist

shadows of affection : orphaned at a young age, katsuki knows nothing but endless violence and the feeling of his bruised and bloody knuckles. until he gets taken in by a mob boss and is tasked to become his daughter's bodyguard..

is it love ? katsuki ! (cashmoneyysstuf's big 6k event !) : uh oh ! looks like your boyfriend's been hit by a quirk that turned him into. . a bunch of otome game character archetypes ?! will they be able to win your love—and most importantly, will he ever get back to normal ?!!

and then some more ! ( extra's !)

the morning after : katsuki confronts you about what you told him the night you got drunk

♡ fire-breathing boyfriend chronicles ! ♡ some short ‘n sweet little extra’s following the events of fbrc starring our favorite now dragon boyfriend bakugou !

♡ ring pops, chocolates proposals ! ♡ katsuki loves you throughout the years.

[akkaweo-akkaweo]

Favorite things

Jang Wonyoung x Shin Yuna x M!reader

Tags: smut, mutual masturbation, (considerable amount of) fluff

WC: 9.4k

—————

"I know you have a crush on Yuna."

You look up at Wonyoung, intently clacking at her computer on the other side of the table. "I have no idea what you're talking about," you dared to say.

"Sure," she retorted. "Keep denying it."

"Wonyoung," you scoffed, at a loss for words. Because damn, she was correct, and you were terrified.

"What?" Wonyoung cut in, now looking at you intently with a smirk. "Think I wouldn't notice when I'm three feet away from you at most for 9 hours a day?"

"Okay," you reply slowly, treading into the conversation carefully. "What exactly is your proof?"

She cleared her throat before shouting, "YUNA!"

"Whatthefuckareyoudoing?!," you mumble as Yuna's chair rolled up right beside you.

"What's up, Wony?," she said, headphones dangling on her neck.

"Uhhh... nothing. I forgot," Wonyoung replied with a falsely innocent smile.

Yuna gave her a puzzled look. "Oookay? Nice talking then," she responded, before rolling away in her chair and putting her pair of headphones back on. When she had looked more fully engrossed, you shot a dirty glare at Wonyoung.

"What the fuck was that for?!," you exclaimed.

"You are so obvious!," Wonyoung replied with a slap on your hand. "You physically recoiled and froze. You didn't even try to look busy. I saw your ears flush! I bet they're still hot right now, aren't they?"

"That's...," you trail off, rubbing your appreny cold fingers on your evidently warm ears. "Ugh. Fine. Yes, I am crushing on Yuna. So what?"

"Then you should ask her out," she said, the jest in her voice dissipating into encouragement. "Take her on a date with you."

"That's just weird," you shot back. "We just met her."

"So?," Wonyoung tilted her head. "Also, 'just?!' Six months is not 'just met' territory."

You sighed, staring at the ceiling. "I've never done this before, y'know."

"Then now's as good a chance as any," she replied, before her phone started buzzing. "I gotta go. I have to sit in another department's meeting."

"Good luck!," you greeted her, even as she was in a rush.

Before you got back to work, Yuna rolled up back to your side, with a big grin on her face.

"What's with the grin?," you asked, puzzled.

"You like Wonyoung, don't you?," Yuna teased.

"What?!," you exclaimed. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Answer me first," Yuna retorted, pointing a playful hand-gun to your temple. "Or... I'll tell her."

"Yuna...," you hesitated. Because damn, she was correct, and you were terrified. Again.

"A-ha! Knew it," she exclaimed.

You scratched your head. That's two for two today. "Okay, and how exactly did you 'know' it?"

"Hmm," Yuna gave it some thought. "Well first, the way you two exchange banter, it's like you're best friends."

"I mean, duh, we're workmates," you replied. "But that's not proof I like her."

"On the contrary," she added, "the way you smile at her, and stare at her, and get locked in your conversations with her – that's second, third, and fourth. You can't just stay best friends."

"Maybe I'm just a good listener!," you defended yourself. "Why think right away that we should date?"

"Because," she continued, leaning her elbow on your armrest, "I like to think know the face of a boy who loves someone's company. And you love her company. And her attention. Bet you didn't even see me staring at you guys, didn't you?"

You gulped. "Wait... did you listen to our conversation?"

"Of course not," she reassured, pointing to her headphones. "But the fact you didn't notice means you were stuck in your own little world. You should ask her out!"

"I can't," you groaned. "I've never done this before." Déjà vu.

"Figure it out then!," she said encouragingly. "Maybe think about it for a bit. But you better ask her!" She put her headphones back on and rolled back to her spot, same as before.

You buried your face in your hands. It's one thing to have a workplace crush; it's another thing to have two of them with you in your three-person team. Hiding it all was definitely not an easy task.

It all started with Wonyoung, actually. You both entered the company and your current assignment at the same time. Working around Wonyoung the first few times was difficult solely due to your nerves – she was no-nonsense, wanting to have an answer to every request in as little time as possible. And she kept that composure with a twinkle in her eye and the cutest smirk of accomplishment when you did. But that also meant pressure on you to keep up with her – which you didn't hate, actually.

You were still in your downward spiral of infatuation when a few weeks later Yuna was added in. She was no polar opposite to Wonyoung, but she was definitely a much warmer presence than her; she would fondly hold your hand when asking you for guidance, or "swing by" to catch a quick break from work on her side of the room. But what really caught you was when she was most relaxed in her own world, a very candid, renaissance-like view of her always available when you turned your head in her direction.

It's been six months since you've all met, and the feelings are most definitely not out of your system. If anything, it's gotten worse, today being evidence of that.

About an hour later, Wonyoung came back, face scrunched into a scowl.

"Wony? What's–," you tried to say.

"Yuna. Huddle up," Wonyoung said. Yuna stood up from her chair and sat on the armrest of yours.

Wonyoung, leaned on her arms over the table and head fully bowed, took a few seconds to gain her composure.

"We need to make a marketing deck. By day after tomorrow. The whole thing: collaterals, assets, the works."

"But that's a Saturday. What the hell?!," was all you could react with. Yuna, however, looked a little more disappointed than frustrated.

"Man, I was thinking of seeing my parents this weekend," Yuna tried to say, before again being cut off by Wonyoung.

"I know, guys, don't worry. I came up with something," Wonyoung continued. "It's not going to be fun, but I think we can finish all of this by tomorrow night if we try really hard enough."

"And I assume that entails...," you lead on. Wonyoung heaves a big sigh.

"Yeah... we gotta pull at least one, potentially two, all-nighters," Wonyoung continued, to which everyone – her included – groaned at. However, she lightened up immediately. "Fortunately for us, I got permission to work from home tomorrow. So we can work together at someone's place."

"Maybe you can stay at mine," Yuna offered. "As a goodbye of sorts to the apartment."

"Oh, you're moving out?," you replied.

"And moving in with me," Wonyoung added. "Rent's cheaper if we split it."

"Don't feel so left out," Yuna said, pushing your shoulder. "You're free to visit."

"Y-yeah, sure, though I'd have thought by now you'd be tired of seeing my face everyday," you laughed nervously. If the forces that be played pranks, this was definitely one of them.

"What? I was just about to ask if we could hang out more, like over drinks or something," Yuna commented.

Wonyoung gave you a look, then clicked her tongue at both of you. "We can plan a much-deserved drinking session another time. For now we gotta agree on it. As a team. We got each other, right?"

"Of course!," Yuna said with a big smile.

"Game," you replied.

"You guys are the best," Wonyoung responded, beaming. "Okay! Texting boss now."

"Hey, we can clock out now," Yuna added, while Wonyoung typed up her response. "How about let's meet by 9PM? Have some time to ourselves, go home and get some stuff."

"Sure," you reply, quickly packing everything up. "Gotta get going then."

"Bye!," Yuna waved.

"See you in a bit," Wonyoung replied, moving in to give a cheek-to-cheek hug.

On the bus home, all you could do was rub your face with your hands, groaning at the situation. It wasn't so much the hassle or the work, but purely that you'd be spending the next few nights around the both of them, nonstop. The only consolation was that actually working as a team was fun – you had an easy-to-keep rhythm that got stuff done fast, and that made the work enjoyable.

You felt your heart race, your spine shiver, your chest grow a metaphorical hole. What that all meant, you dare not think about right now.

=====

"Hello, Yuna? I have snacks," you muttered into the intercom. You were on the dot, as agreed.

"Great!," Wonyoung's voice cut in, "just come on up." Guess she was early, typical of her.

When you got there, you found the two on opposite sides of a small rectangular table. Around them were open bags of chips and assorted drinks: juices, colas, and an unopened bottle of wine.

"How long have you been here?," you asked.

"She practically lives here now," Yuna replied. "That's why I don't mind moving in with her."

"You make it sound like I've been here ever since I met you," Wonyoung dismissed her. "I think it's been a few weeks since I was first here. Then I guess I just kept coming here because it's much closer to the office."

"Too small to split though, I assume," you added, looking at the room, a single space with a bed in a far corner and a sizable table right next to a kitchen and sink.

"Way too small for me," she replied. "Come, sit there by the end of the table. There's an extension cord here, get whatever snacks you want."

In the first hour you laid out everything that needed to be done, and after another hour of working, Wonyoung took a quick nap while you and Yuna worked on some graphics. Wonyoung was a light sleeper, so you couldn't talk much, though the faint snoring did give a hint you could talk a bit more than usual.

"How'd you get into graphic design?," you asked.

"Been doing this for family and relatives for a while now," she replied. "When they said they'd stop asking me for free labor if I got a full-time job, I jumped right on it."

"True that," you responded.

When Wonyoung woke up after an hour and a half or so, Yuna decided to take a nap as well, at your prompting. Within minutes she was breathing heavily.

"Seems like you made some progress on the pitch document," Wonyoung remarked.

"Only 'cause we're putting off the actual strategic plan," you replied. "That was gonna be easier when you were awake."

"Fair enough, I'll work on that now then," she said. "What are you doing?"

"Just some research figures," you said. "Felt like they might ask for a breakdown by demographic during the meeting."

"Good idea," she replied.

After about two more hours of working, you were yawning non-stop. "Fuuu-," you yawned, "-uuucking hell, this is insane."

"Hey," Wonyoung held your hand. "Take a nap. I got this."

"Thanks," you whispered, as you lay your head on the table. As you drifted off, you still managed to hear Yuna wake up and the first part of their conversation.

"Oh, how long has he been out?," Yuna asked.

"Just a few minutes," Wonyoung replied. That was the last you caught of their conversation was Wonyoung saying "He kinda looks..." before you dozed off.

When you woke up at 4AM, you found Wonyoung no longer at the table but on the bed, and Yuna asleep at the computer. She was in the middle of editing the last few slides, so you helped finish that up. After you put the final edits on the whole document and a poster no one had worked on yet, your 5AM alarm rang. Everyone in the small room jolted awake.

"Oh shit," Yuna replied. "I fell asleep again."

"Don't worry about it," you reassured, rubbing your eyes. "Just finished it."

"Really?," Wonyoung yawned. "Thank fuck." She dropped to the bed.

"Scoot over," Yuna groaned. "That's my bed." Wonyoung groaned as well as she made space for Yuna, and the two laid side by side, facing each other.

After you closed everything up and made a quick scan of everything you had so far, you closed your laptop and breathed a sigh of relief – for now, at least. You found a note on the back of your laptop, likely from when you were sleeping, from Yuna. "Sleeping bag's by the foot of the bed," it read. True enough, it was there. Better than nothing.

You also found the two in the same position, but more entangled. Their legs were crossed over each other; Wonyoung's hand was laid onto Yuna's neck, and Yuna's hand over Wonyoung's waist.

Only now did you notice their clothes from yesterday: Wonyoung had a set of pajamas on, while Yuna had a pair of shorts and a plain shirt. And they looked... pretty: the way Wonyoung hair was draped over her face, the way Yuna's mouth was somewhat half-open, the smoothness of their skin, the curves of their torsos... You ran to the bathroom, immediately washing your face and slapping your face repeatedly.

"Snap the fuck out of it," you told yourself aloud. "Stop thinking about those kinds of things, or it will get awkward and you won't have friends anymore." You got out, you quietly walked to the sleeping bag and fell asleep, in no time at all.

When you woke up, it was 10AM – 5 straight hours of sleep. Not bad. Both of them were up already, scrolling through TikToks together and giggling.

"Morning," you groaned.

"Hey," Wonyoung replied. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm," you groaned, not exactly a confirmation.

"Sorry," Yuna replied.

"No, sorry, still groggy," you reassured. "I'm alright."

You got up to see a sandwich on the table. "Oh, thanks guys," you remarked. You sat at the table to eat while Wonyoung and Yuna stayed at the bed. "What else do we need to do?," you asked.

"Actually, about that...," Wonyoung began. Yuna's lips were pursed. "So... we're actually done. I kinda just told boss that we needed more time to work on it, without the all-nighter part."

"And that means we have a free day!," Yuna added.

"Wait, but... you said we'd finish by tonight," you clarified.

"Yeah, and I wanted you guys to hop on my master plan without anyone telling me off. Like you," Wonyoung responded.

You scoffed. "Was that supposed to be an insult?" You looked at Yuna. "Were you in on this?"

"She means you might have wanted to stay home instead, silly," Yuna replied. "And for the record, no, she told me while I was making the sandwich."

"Almost woke you up with her squeal when I told her," Wonyoung chided.

"Shut up," Yuna rebutted. "Back to my point. We literally have not gone out with you, like, ever."

Wonyoung snapped her fingers. "Exactly! So, that said, what do you guys wanna do?"

"Ooh, I wanna actually taste that," Yuna began, pointing to the vodka on the table, "and not leave it wasting in my cabinet anymore."

You sighed. "I'm down, but I don't think we should exert ourselves that much. We literally only got half the hours of sleep we should have."

"Point taken," Wonyoung replied. "Maybe you should tell us where to go!"

"Uhh," you trail off. "You sure you want that?"

"Of course!" Yuna replied. "I can't even name one of your favorite things."

You pulled out some unwarranted courage from deep within you. "There's two of them right in front of me," you tease, awkwardly pointing finger guns at both of them. What the fuck, you think to yourself.

"You did not just say that," Wonyoung interjected with a playfully disgusted look.

"Minus points on the delivery, babe," Yuna smirked, "but great response." Something about the nickname made your heart race a little bit faster.

"Thanks?," you replied.

"Fine," Wonyoung groaned, trying to hide a smile. "What's the third?"

=====

You took in a deep breath of air and scouted the area. "Yep, I think this is a great spot," you said. "Let's set up here."

You dropped the plastic bags of food on the wooden table and set up some utensils. You were at a base camp about 2 hours away from the city, though from your house – which you passed by to get all the gear – it was only about two-thirds the journey.

"I can't believe this is so close to your house," Yuna reacted, stretching her legs and arms. "If I lived there I'd be hiking every weekend."

"'Close' is relative," you replied. "But I used to. Now I literally don't have time to do that anymore."

"The sky looks so nice now," Wonyoung replied, twirling in her sundress. "Guess we got here at just the right time."

After ordering some food for lunch at Yuna's, you parted ways to freshen up and take some time to rest. You brought your car to drive by their places, which took some time, but did help make the trip to the camp faster.

"This, ladies, is my third favorite thing in the world," you said, stretching your arms to the sky theatrically. "The sunset."

"It's beautiful," Wonyoung responded. "Good thinking."

The girls started taking turns taking photos of each other, giggling and exchanging remarks as they tried to find their favorite shots. You watched from the table, enamored by their merrymaking.

"I'm starving," Yuna quipped as they walked back to the table. She removed her sweater as she sat down revealing a crop top underneath. "Maybe we can start now?"

"It's early, but sure," you replied. You'd passed by different stores for some grilled meats and other assortments of food – which, as Yuna promised, were perfect to pre-game for the vodka.

You sat on one side of the table while Yuna and Wonyoung sat on the other. Their faces were lit up well by the afternoon sky, what bare makeup they put on making their skin gleam. You pulled out your phone to take a picture of them, and showed it to the pair.

"This picture of us is sooo cute!," Yuna said to Wonyoung. "Can you send it to me?"

"Hold up," Wonyoung stopped Yuna, pulling out an instant film camera. "Use this too." You did your best to replicate the photo and snapped a picture of the pair, which Wonyoung printed out three copies of.

"How about you?," Wonyoung asked. "Let us take a picture of you."

You waved your hands in front of your face. "I'm fine! I go here all the time."

"Shut up and just smile, you dork," Yuna replied, pinning your hands to the table. "Wony, go."

She took a picture, showed it to Yuna, and the two giggled.

"You look amazing here," Yuna responded. "Look!," she showed the screen.

"Okay, fine," you groaned, "this might be the best photo I've had of myself since graduation."

"Then I'll give you a copy!," Wonyoung replied, printing another 3 copies of the photo.

"Oh come on," you said shyly. "That's a bit too much."

"What do you mean?," Wonyoung continued. "This is our first group outing. Gotta memorialize these things."

"Aww, are you shy?," said Yuna, pinching your cheek in jest. You playfully slapped her hand.

"No! I just don't like taking pictures of myself," you retort.

"But I took the picture, not you," Wonyoung chimed. "So take it as a gift. Here, you even get one of both of us!"

You could feel yourself blush as you looked at it, their eyes perfectly twinkling in the sunset light; hopefully that same light masked it. "I'll put this in an oversized picture frame for my sidetable," you replied sarcastically. Wonyoung rolled her eyes and Yuna stuck out her tongue.

You sighed. "You're acting like elementary kids," you remarked. "With actual speaking ability."

"So that means we're friends!," Yuna replied.

"You make it sound like I've contested that," you said.

"No, it's just that this is literally the first time we've hung out," Yuna continued, "and to my knowledge, friends actually hang out."

"Oh yeah, thinking about it, we never hung out even before Yuna joined us," Wonyoung added.

You shrugged. "I don't know, I just thought it'd be weird if I went out with you without knowing you well."

"I mean, that's why we ask people to go out, right?," Wonyoung urged, emphasizing certain words and pointing her eyes to Yuna, who seemed to be oblivious to the gesture.

"Sure," you dismissed her. "C'mon, we gotta eat this before it gets cold."

If your social battery were to ever undergo some sort of diagnostic test, this would be it. Yuna, surprisingly, is very chatty, having lots of stories and thoughts to share. Wonyoung, just as surprisingly, isn't as chatty, only interjecting to what Yuna says rather than to initiate discussions on her own. But you, whether for better or for worse, were prompted repeatedly by the two to talk.

It wasn't that you didn't want to share – if anything, the talking made you feel lighter as you let go of more stories and anecdotes of your own – but watching them smile, and laugh, and just beam, was mesmerizing. They were mesmerizing. You grabbed your phone again and made your picture of them your wallpaper.

"You're just staring at us," Yuna laughed.

"No, just listening," you evade, "staring is different." Yuna rolled her eyes.

Wonyoung's phone went off. "Damn, it's been a whole hour already. It didn't even feel like 20 minutes!," she exclaimed.

"Traffic's gonna pick up at this time," you added. "Better head out. There's a convenience store near my place."

Unlike the car ride going to the campsite, where at one point both Yuna and Wonyoung had both fallen asleep, now they were belting out songs from a playlist. You joined in where you knew the lyrics too. Fortunately having dodged most traffic, you finally got to your place.

"Make yourselves at home! Only reason this place is bigger than Yuna's is because it's outside the city."

"Yeah, no shit," Yuna replied. "We should move in with you."

You laughed nervously. "While I would entertain the thought, I think this is still too small for Wony."

"Hey, I'm not a fucking princess," she huffed. "It's not my fault I need a lot of shit."

"Like a princess," you teased, grabbing Wonyoung's hand and playfully kissing her invisible ring. Yuna shot you a look, which you ignored.

"Ew," Wonyoung shook her hand. "Don't treat me like I'm your boss, you shit."

"I'm kidding!," you defended yourself, though Wonyoung slapped your arm with a smirk.

"I know, we're just playing," she whispered. "You're so cute when you're defensive."

There that word was again: cute. These girls were going to give you a heart condition by how many times they've made it beat faster.

"Why is your house so... bare?," Yuna asked. "Do you not like, collect anything?"

"I mean, I do, but you can't exactly display Pokémon cards," you replied. "And I have a PC in my room."

"Fair enough," she responded.

"So... is it drinking time?," Wonyoung prompted, pulling out the full, menacing bottle of vodka.

"Full disclosure, ladies," you warned, "but this is the first time I'm drinking vodka."

"God, did you even have a life before today?," Yuna remarked, pouring one shot out for you. "Try it on its own first, then I'll teach you how to drink it."

You placed the glass to your mouth, and you could feel it cooling your lips before you even put it in your mouth, When you did, all you could do exhale loudly and make a face.

"Holy FUCK, that's different," you exclaimed. "I've had whiskey before but nothing like this."

As the three of you bonded over the alcohol, you felt yourself getting dizzy; by the end of it, Yuna was laid down on your lap, while Wonyoung leaned her head on your shoulder.

"How frequently do you go to bars to have learned this?," you groaned to Yuna.

"I taught her," Wonyoung chimed in, "sorta. Though that was with soju, not fuckin' vodka."

"They're, like, kinda the same, though," Yuna quipped.

"They are very much not the same, Yuna," you retorted. "Well, thank God I learned from you and not some other personal mishap."

Yuna groaned. "You are such a baby boy." The nickname was making you feel things, and you were fighting tooth and nail to keep it subtle.

Wonyoung wrapped her arm over your shoulder. "Are you really the older one among us three? Because all day it's as if we took care of you more than you took care of us."

You could feel the alcohol making you lose some of your hesitations, and you played along with it. "Ignoring that 'taking care' sounds so parental," you said, "thank you. Seriously. For today."

"Aww, babe," Wonyoung replied, "you're so sweet." She started stroking the back of your head with her hand; you felt fuzzy right where her hand was.

"Oooh, he's blushing," Yuna taunted. "You like Wony, don't you?"

Uh oh. You feel like – no, you know – you've been here before.

"What?!," you stammered, at a loss for words. "I don't know, this stuff's really strong," you lifted your shot glass.

Wonyoung elbowed you. "C'mon, it's a joke."

"No it's not," Yuna said, a bit more worked up. "Look at his ears, Wonyoung! That's no alcohol flush."

"I-I–," you stammered again, "that's quite the assumption–"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Yuna knelt up and sat right beside you, propping herself on her arm. "Wony, he likes you. He's been staring at you, like, the whole day, and he's been blushing every time you called him babe. There. Now you don't have to admit it." She flicked your arm in playful annoyance. "You're so adorably frantic I could just pinch your cheeks all the time!"

"Wait," Wonyoung reacted, now fully sitting up. "Me? I was waiting for him to admit to you that he liked you! And hello?! He was staring at you! Not–," she hesitated. "Wait. Did you–"

"Okay, okay! I like both of you, okay?," you began defensively. "But I didn't wanna make things awkward because I literally just met both of you and you're literally the only friends I have right now!" You felt your head sink between your shoulders, your hands up and tucked in like you were surrendering.

There was a very audible silence – likely the ringing from the alcohol – that felt a lot longer than it probably was. But Wonyoung and Yuna shot each other some faces, like they were communicating in some sort of code. Then, out of nowhere, Yuna made a loud chortle, and the pair burst out laughing. You expected the worst.

"Wait," Wonyoung said, tears almost in her eyes. "This is so funny."

"Do you wanna–," Yuna hesitated, a huge grin stretched across her face, "'Cause, like, I–"

"No, I got it, whoo," Wonyoung collected herself. "Ahem. So. While you were asleep, when we, y'know, set up this plan to go out today, we kinda both agreed that you were cute."

The buzzing in your head stopped. Was that... an admission?

"But Yuna here," continued Wonyoung, furrowing her brows at Yuna, who stuck out her tongue again, "kept hinting you liked someone. And I offered that we'd figure out tonight–,"

"With truth or dare!," Yuna butted in.

"Yeah!," Wonyoung continued. "We would have asked who you were into in the office or if you were dating anyone."

Entertaining your morbid curiosity, you asked, "but both of you knew I liked the other?"

"That's the funniest thing!," Yuna replied. "I didn't know Wony was talking about me!"

"And I didn't know she was hinting at me!," Wonyoung added, "'cause we all we told each other was that we had an idea!"

"I was supposed to confront you about Wony when we got to that point," Yuna whined. "But you're just so frustratingly cute," gesturing at pinching your cheeks with both hands, "because you were trying so hard to pretend!

Wonyoung shot Yuna a glare. "Bitch, that was your plan? I was planning that too!"

"Oh my god, you're such a fucking liar," Yuna playfully pushed Wonyoung. "Says you!," she retorted. The two kept giggling, and you were in the middle of it watching everything... collapse? It didn't quite feel like things were falling apart.

"I–I don't know what to say," you remarked. "My head is spinning and my chest hurts and... fuck, you two are so pretty when you laugh," you blurted. The two grinned.

"I think we figured that out," Wonyoung reassured, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. You felt your skin flush again – no, burn – right where she did.

"You make him blush so bad, Wony," Yuna teased, also giving you a kiss on your other cheek, and laughing at your reactions with Wonyoung.

Before you know it, the two were a giggling mess, planting kiss after kiss all over your face. All you could do, or felt like doing, was keeping your eyes closed as they overwhelmed your senses. Wonyoung still scratched your hair; Yuna held a hand to your cheek. By the end of their onslaught, all you could do was laugh with them – your emotions a mess in your head – until you started tearing up a bit. "Sorry, sorry," you muttered, "it's just–"

Wonyoung fully cupped your head with her other hand. "Aww, don't cry!," she fawned. "God, you're so fucking cute."

"You've been saying that the whole day!," you whined to her, still laughing. "And it keeps making me feel tingly."

"That's what a crush is, dumbass," Wonyoung teased, wiping a stray tear in your eye with her finger.

"I know!," you retorted. "But you can't blame me if this is like, the best day of my life so far. You're both really, really pretty, and I really want to spend more time with you, and–"

You were cut off by Yuna tightly grabbing the side of your body. "Calm down," she reassured, kissing your cheek again. Wonyoung also hugged you from her side. You draped your arms over the two fully wrapping their petite frames, into a warm hug. The two never stopped their laughs for a second.

"Thanks for telling us," Wonyoung said, and you felt the cavity in your chest dissipate; a resolution, of sorts. The two laid their heads on your chest, the three of you breathing in silence.

"This feels nice," Wonyoung said softly, your arms wrapped around their shoulders. Yuna hummed in agreement.

You talked things out a bit more – mostly whens and whys, about moments and reasons. All the while, the two never left your sides, hands still on your abdomen with the occasional prod or slap.

After a few moments of sustained quiet, Yuna broke the silence. "I have an unhinged, very intrusive thought."

She paused for a while, no one daring to urge her. After a good few seconds, Yuna continued.

"I'm like... really horny."

Wonyoung let out a loud laugh. "Fuck, where'd that come from?"

Yuna sat up again, her shoulder on yours, leaning over until her face was mere inches away from yours. "'Cause all day I've wanted to pounce on his cute little face." She giggled, touching the tip of your nose. "And now that I have, I kinda wanna keep doing it."

Wonyoung did the same, both their hands on your chest and their full weight pushing down on your shoulders. "You know, I was just thinking the same thing," she cooed. "You beat me to it."

Underneath the flurry of emotions you just felt in the past minutes, Yuna was right: it's been days since you rubbed one off, and here you were, horny with a pair of girls just as horny for you. The thought alone made blood rush down to your pants.

Yuna pulled your head to face her, saying, "I bet he feels the same way too." She stared at you, her eyes narrowed, half from the drowsiness of alcohol, but definitely half bedroom eyes. Then she licked her lips and winked; you felt your cock twitch, almost involuntarily and without hesitation. Fuck.

Wonyoung then pulled Yuna's face towards her. "Let's make sure, though." The two kissed each other – not a makeout, but a single, slow, sensual one. Your breathing was obviously deeper, and your pants noticeably tighter.

"So," Yuna teased, "do you want this?" She tracing circles on your chest with Wonyoung. "We wanna hear it from you."

Wonyoung's arm, now over your head, started stroking the top of your hair again. "Tell us if you want this, baby boy." Your breath audibly shivered at the pet name.

"I–," you tried to speak up, though the girls wouldn't let up to give you space to breathe and do so.

"What's that, baby boy?," Yuna said right in your ear, causing you to yelp just a bit. "Shiiit, he likes that, doesn't he?"

The two began peppering your face with kisses again, each one leaving the same hot, burning sensation on your skin before turning cold from their saliva. This time, you could tell their lips were coated in drool, the kind one makes when aroused.

"Say it, baby," Wonyoung urged.

"Fuck," you groaned, "you're both so hot."

"We know," Yuna replied, her hand cupping your groin, right over your balls. "This gave that away." Your hips jolted forward, and Wonyoung joined in by pressing a hand down right over your shaft, held down by your pants. You let out a moan, and the girls bit their lips.

"Say you want us, and we're yours," Wonyoung added

"I like you, Wonyoung," you said aloud, "and I like you, Yuna."

"Hmm, nope," Yuna taunted. "Say you want us." The girls didn't let up with their kissing, laughing each time you tried, and failed, to form a coherent sentence.

"Come on, baby boy," said Wonyoung. "You can do it."

You groaned loudly. "Fuck, I want you both, so bad."

The pair began working their lips past your face, nipping at your earlobes, behind your jaw, right on your neck. You hitched your breath, your hips bucking forward when they hit sensitive parts – still resisted by their hands, slowly working your jeans off you. A slow zipper pull here, a slow unbuttoning there, until your underwear was the only thing holding their hands back from you.

As they slid off you, they urged you to remove your shirt, and you obliged; in no time was your abdomen coated in the glistening sheen of spit and kisses, going lower and closer to the garter of your underwear. You tried to stray your hands to the top of their heads, but Yuna caught one of them before you could. "Us first, baby boy," she purred.

Once they reached your cock, they kissed your shaft through your underwear, the feeling of their moist lips only made tantalizingly evident by the warmth of their breath. They paused again, their faces and their quickened breathing looming just over your manhood.

Wonyoung glanced over to Yuna, biting her lip. "I think he has a lot of feelings to release tonight, Yuna."

"All over our faces?," Yuna hummed.

"Mmm, dripping over our pretty little faces, right baby boy?," Wonyong teased. Yuna licked her lips in excitement.

"You're really good at talking dirty, Wony," Yuna remarked. "You make me wanna touch myself."

"Maybe he wants to watch us do that," Wonyoung replied. "Do you wanna watch us?" You nodded.

The pair then let go of you, sitting up straight again. "Watch," Yuna prompted, and she grabbed Wonyoung's face and started making out with her. The two slowly undid each other's clothes: Yuna let Wonyoung take off her crop top and leggings, while she slid off the straps of Wonyoung's dress.

As they started kissing deeply, you could see their tongues wrestle within their mouths; their hands glided towards each others' petite breasts, each grabbing a handful. Watching them, your hand started gliding over your underwear gripping your shaft through them; Yuna caught you in the act.

"Go ahead, touch yourself. Just don't forget to give it to us," she taunted.

You got up on your sofa and threw down to the floor some pillows you had. "If you're gonna stay down there and touch each other," you gasped, "at least make yourselves comfortable."

Wonyoung gave you a warm smile as Yuna fixed the pillows. "You're so thoughtful, baby."

You overheard Yuna whisper to Wonyoung, "Girl, I've never done this before." Wonyoung playfully slapped Yuna's arm. "Trust the process," she reassured. They laid down on the pillows and opened themselves up, layering their arms over each other to allow them to touch each other. In their position, they had to lean forehead to forehead, the pair still giggly with their situation.

You slid your hand into your underwear fully, pushing it down your legs until it pooled by your feet. The feeling of your cold hands on your hard shaft made you throw your head back.

Wonyoung, seeing your move, grabbed Yuna's face and started to make out with her, their moans muffled into each other's mouths. The formerly silent room was now occupied with the heavy air of sweat and sex, and a perfectly coordinated symphony of gasps and profanities echoing up to the ceiling.

The two broke their staring contest to glare at you, mouths agape – not disgusted or angry, but longing and hungry. Yuna's leg was almost fully in the air, grinding against Wonyoung's hand; Wonyoung's hand, free as she laid on the pillows, grabbed a fistful of her breast, Yuna's hand wildly flicking her clit.

"Fuck, Yuna," Wonyoung started, but barely found herself able to continue her thought.

"God, Wony, fuuu...," Yuna continued, groaning from between gnashed teeth. Wonyoung dove into Yuna's neck, releasing all of her growling.

Your already steady stroking was getting faster as you chased your ecstasy. In brief moments you felt your hips buck forward as they moaned together, or felt your abdomen crunch forward under the twitching of your cock. You groaned behind clemched teeth and gasped for air as you neared your climax, yet desperate to keep it at bay.

"Fuck I'm so close," Wonyoung continued, repeating the words over and over. "Please I'm so close, fuck I wanna cum so fucking bad..."

"Together," Yuna begged her, "you finger me so good, just like that, I'm gonna..."

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!," Wonyoung cried out. Yuna's groans turned into squeals, into a silent, breath-held scream. You could hear the already audible squelching get louder as they finished each other off, their faces contorted into lustful agony.

"Fuck that's it, just like that," you muttered. "I'm so fucking close."

Yuna and Wonyoung, though still catching their breaths, knelt in front of you, rubbing their hands up your thighs, tantalizingly close to your cock.

Yuna's attention was completely on your dick. "Fuck, it looks so good," she said under her breath.

"Show him what you wanna do then," Wonyoung urged, offering her still creamy fingers to Yuna. "Tease him."

Yuna held on to Wonyoung's wrist as she licked it on each side, base to fingertip. She used the sides of her tongue like a shovel, guiding the fluids up to the edge, before inserting just the first digits of her fingers in her mouth. She kept her lips tight as she cleaned it up, pooling it all over her tongue.

Without words exchanged, Wonyoung did the same with Wonyoung's drenched fingers. She inserted each finger in her mouth all the way to the end, lapping up all the squirt that coated Yuna's fingers, before also showing off her tongue. A drop of saliva nearly dripped out, which she hastily aimed over your cockhead. You paused your stroking, and the girls spat onto the top. With lubrication for your hand, you felt your load starting to well up at the base of your groin.

"Hey Yuna, let's move a bit closer," Wonyoung invited. The pair moved up closer between your legs, their arms pressing down on your thighs. Their faces were so close to your groin that their breaths could be felt around your balls. Wonyoung made sure to pull Yuna in close, placing an arm around her, such that their cheeks were pressed on each other. The sight of their faces – and their lips – so close to each other was the last nail in the coffin.

"God you're so fucking pretty, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!," was all you could warn before a huge rope shot onto Wonyoung's forehead, another thick rope on Yuna's cheek and lips, alternating pumps between them. You emptied a day's worth of cum all over them, coating their faces with strings of white. The pair grinned and hummed in satisfaction.

Yuna was the first to start lapping up everything from Wonyoung's face, before she did the same. As they cleaned up each other's cheeks, noses, and lips, their mouths were almost full; when Wonyoung began to kiss Yuna again, drops of the mixed spit and cum dripped off the sides of their mouths. They both went up to your cock and spat on it again, taking turns, one at a time, until it was drenched in the slimy mixture. The cold feeling of the spit easily made you erect

"Still so hard for us, huh?," Yuna remarked, making a light slap to your dick and marveling at your erection. "Our turn."

The two climbed up on the sofa, one on each side, wrapping a leg over yours. Yuna began stroking you while Wonyoung watched, mouth agape. Your dick was already sensitive, and you tried – and failed, because they had locked their legs around yours – to stop squirming and bucking.

"Aww, baby boy," Wonyoung jeered, right up in your ear, "so sensitive already? You can do it. Cum again for us." She opened her hand by the side of your cock, prompting Yuna to grab onto it and slowly jerk you off together, their hands forming a tight, slimy grip on your shaft.

Their stroking started getting faster and faster, their hands lubricated by your cum. The feeling of their fingers rubbing around your head, slamming into your hips, left you in shambles. You could barely perk your head up; using their free hands, Yuna stroked your hair, while Wonyoung rubbed your cheek affectionately, running her thumb across your lips.

"You look so cute like this, baby boy," Yuna whispered. "And your dick looks so good."

"Your cum tasted so good, baby boy," Wonyoung teased. "How about you, Yuna?"

"I would love to have more," Yuna replied. "Do it. Cum for us. Feed us."

"If you really want both of us, you have to cum for us again," Wonyoung added. "We know you want to."

By now your groans were more of a desperate, overwhelmed panting, as you ground your teeth hard to resist the urge to retreat from their quickened stroking.

"Agh, fuck, fuck, AHH!," was all you could say as the sensitivity clouded your thoughts, seeing only their faces longingly begging for your cum. You let out a single loud shout as you came a second time, this time less cum and more squirt (men could do that?!) that you could barely control yourself from releasing. The girls laughed as they saw the cum drip all over their hands, still stroking until your legs shook uncontrollably.

Wonyoung took Yuna's hand and lapped up all the fluids dripping along the back of her hand; Yuna did the same. When they had their fill, they leaned over your chest for a final kiss, smiling at each other as they swallowed everything up.

The two wound down back where you started, planting light kisses around your face. Behind your still closed eyes, you could hear your collective heaving as you caught your breaths, still in silence.

"Good boy," she purred in your ear. You felt a tingle climb up your back. "You did so well."

Yuna traced your jaw with a single finger. "You looked so cute a while ago," she teased. "Does my baby like being called cute?

"Our baby boy," Wonyoung clicked her tongue. "Unless you don't wanna share."

"Slip of the tongue, sheesh," Yuna scoffed. "We'll share him as much as he wants."

Wonyoung kissed your forehead. "What do you want to do now, babe?"

You felt a sudden rush in your knees, an urge to do something more. You let go of your hesitations and let your body move on its own. You got off the couch and knelt in front of them.

"Let me eat you out," you said, no niceties added. The two started breathing excitedly and biting their lips.

"You wanna taste us, baby boy?," Wonyoung asked. You nodded.

"You go first, Wony?," Yuna asked.

"Fuck, you first," she laughed, still a bit out of breath. Yuna stretched her legs, still very much wet from your ordeal. You planted a kiss right above her folds, making Yuna gasp.

You dove in and the tang of sweat and squirt fully coated your tongue on the first lick. You weren't quite sure what you were doing, but Yuna grabbed your hair and guided you.

"Higher up," she said, moaning and pulling your head in deeper when you found the right flap of skin. "FUCK, just like that," she affirmed.

You swirled your tongue around at a steady pace, Yuna's moaning a metronome for your licking. You kept going as she shoved your face in more aggressively; you found the right spot as you flicked your tongue on her swollen clit fast enough to start straining your jaw.

"Oh yes, oh yes, just like that, you're so good, baby boy," she squealed. "Fuck I'm so close already!"

"Look at me, Yuna," you mumbled, and she looked up, her mouth still agape. "Cum for me," you said, muffled while your tongue was still stuck inside of her.

Yuna came with a single, loud whine; she arched her body up, trembling as she rode your face, still held tight in her hand. She let out a heavy sigh as she slowly came down from her climax, her whimpers slowly getting softer.

You looked over at Wonyoung, who had been touching herself to Yuna's orgasm – and looked like she was deep into her own climax. "Fuck that was hot," she commented, "I'm already close."

You started crawling towards her. "Cum all over my face too, please," you replied, as you dug your tongue into her folds, making Wonyoung whelp. You made sure to maintain eye contact just like with Yuna, and Wonyoung held it all the same.

Wonyoung whined as she grabbed on to her breasts, occasionally petting your head with the other. She instinctively had bursts where she'd pull away, but you clung on to her tightly. Though slow, you started licking upwards, like digging out her clit, and Wonyoung's moans climbed in intensity.

"Fuck, you're so good, keep doing that, fuck," Wonyoung exclaimed, "I'm gonna cum!" She let out a soft, high-pitched squeal behind pursed lips, squeezing her legs together and trapping your head in between them. You pushed forward against her resistance, making sure you rode her high, until she pushed you with her hands.

"Fuck, that's enough, holy shit," she cried out, her chest heaving from her climax. Yuna lazily watched, a hand playing with her nipples through her shirt.

You grabbed your shirt and wiped your drenched, spit-covered mouth before climbing back on the couch. You outstretched your arms on either side, prompting the two to move in closer and cuddle. Come here," you urged, and once again, you were back where you three started.

You rubbed their shoulders and back, one in each arm, and gave a kiss to each one's forehead. You hesitated immediately after, though; you weren't anything special to them, maybe you shouldn't be so... intimate.

Wonyoung then held your hand when you stopped. "Keep doing that," she reassured, and you resumed what you could only describe was aftercare.

You leaned over to Wonyoung and gave her a slow and tender kiss on the lips. Yuna started kissing your hand, as if calling for attention. You turned to her and gave her a kiss as well. Wonyoung kissed your hand too, rubbing her free hand all over your chest, sometimes intercepting Yuna's and feeling up her forearm.

The three of you repeated this dance of hands and lips for a while, until everyone slowed down significantly. Yuna smiled at you with eyes heavy. "You're so cute, baby boy," she cooed.

"He is, isn't he, Yuna?," Wonyoung added, her voice low. You felt that tingly feeling again, and it felt nice.

"Maybe we should move to an actual bed, ladies?," you asked.

Wonyoung whined a little. "But we're so comfy here," she said. "Aren't you?"

You gave Wonyoung a smile. "Just a second then," you replied. You tried to wipe down Yuna and Wonyoung's legs with your shirt, and in as few big movements as possible, you pulled up a blanket bunched up to the side of Yuna and draped it over all three of you. Even if everyone was still a mess and very much naked, you decided it wasn't worth ruining this moment to fuss over – it didn't take long for everyone to fall asleep.

When morning struck, everyone was still frozen in their positions: Yuna, one arm draped over your chest; Wonyoung, curled up and still barely holding on to your hand; and you, arms still around them, and very much hung over.

You shuffled a bit and the girls moved around as well, though miraculously not waking them up as you stood up. You grabbed some pillows on the floor and got them to lie their heads on them. You finally put your pants back on, and hobbled your way to the kitchen to try and prepare something. There wasn't much: just some oatmeal and frozen waffles, which you prepared regardless of the niceties.

You brought the tray of assorted goods to the couch, before moving back to the kitchen to make some coffee. You could hear groaning and the shifting of weight on the couch.

"Morning, ladies," you called out. No response, but you heard the clinking around of the plates. Your head was pounding less, but still uncomfortable. Still, you pushed on, taking the first coffee for yourself, helping ease the discomfort. Before you showed yourself to them, you ran to your room to grab a shirt.

As you came back, you found them seated up, the blanket neatly covering them up shoulders down. Wonyoung cupped the bowl of warm oatmeal close, and Yuna gingerly hled a waffle in her hands. You put down the coffees and sat in between them again, crawling into the blanket with them.

Everyone ate in silence, probably the hangover, likely the hunger, but definitely still piecing together what happened.

Wonyoung was the first to cave. "Do you really eat your oatmeal plain?"

"Try this," you muttered, getting up to grab the jar of cinnamon sugar on the tray. Wonyoung took a single teaspoon and sprinkled it over the oatmeal. After a spoonful, she grabbed another.

Yuna scooted up closer to you, leaning on your shoulder. "Last night was nice. Thank you," she said.

"Aww, you got Yuna all affectionate again," Wonyoung remarked, "but she's right. I enjoyed last night. Did you?"

You nodded, still at a loss for how to proceed. Wonyoung looped an arm around your hand, still holding on to her oatmeal.

After another quick round of silence, Yuna quipped. "I never would have thought you'd be so good with your tongue." Wonyoung almost spat out her oatmeal, laughing with a nod.

"Would you believe me if I said that was my first time?," you replied. The two audibly gasped.

"No fucking way," Wonyoung replied, slapping your leg. "You're telling me you made me cum like that on your first try?!"

"Second try!," Yuna butted in, correcting her. "But still, what the fuck. How much porn do you watch?!"

"What?! Excuse you! I don't watch that much porn...," you rebutted. "Though... I guess I learned a thing or two. Maybe I can surprise you a second time with... my hands?"

Yuna held her breath and bit her lip. "God, stop making me horny for you," Yuna responded with a light poke to your ribcage. "You're too cute to just be horny around all the time."

There the word was again: cute. With all the lust out of your system, you felt the same bubbling, tingling feeling welling up in your chest in full force.

"Told you she thought you were cute," Wonyoung chided, "and here you were worrying about going on a date with her!"

"I literally told you to go out with me more," Yuna pouted at you. "But no, you wanted to go out with Wony."

"Aww," Wonyoung teased, for the first time sarcastically. "Is someone jealous he might have a favorite?"

"Ugh, says you," Yuna taunted. "Look at you, calling him babe all day yesterday."

"Girls," you tried to interject.

"You started it!," Wonyoung retorted.

"Nah, you just wanna keep him for yourself, don't you?," said Yuna.

"What? No," Wonyoung replied, though the dismissiveness was barely convincing. "But, if you aren't taking him, I will."

You cleared your throat. "Um, ladies! If I may..." you started. Wonyoung now moved closer, wrapping her arm around yours.

"I don't... want things to be awkward," you continued. "And I don't want you guys to like... fight. Over... me?"

Wonyoung held a hand to your cheek, warming it up. "Hey, we're just kidding! We wouldn't fight, most definitely not over you."

"Don't take that the wrong way," Yuna butted in. "I think you're cute, but I wouldn't mind hanging out with you more first. Over drinks, to the mall. Get to know you more."

"I also think you're really nice to be around," Wonyoung added, "and would also love to go out with you. But like... on actual dates, if you get what I mean." She leaned her head on your shoulder.

"Awww," Yuna teased, mocking Wonyoung, who shushed her. "I mean, I don't see a problem with you having him, Wony," Yuna continued. "Though maybe I would like to ask for permission to... borrow him, sometimes."

"I would love to share him with you, Yuna," Wonyoung replied, a little mischievously. Yuna laughed under her breath. "I'm not clingy. Just randomly needy," Wonyoung added.

By now, blood was rushing to your head, your ears still hot with that indescribable feeling, that cavity-on-your-chest sensation on full

blast. But Yuna and Wonyoung simultaneously went up to your cheeks to plant a light peck, and you felt the cavity go away, now just a warm fuzzy feeling again. "See? Peace on earth," Wonyoung reassured.

"Don't get too excited now," Yuna remarked, flicking your thigh and drawing attention to the erection you tried to ignore the whole time.

"Oh come on, Yuna," Wonyoung rebutted. "Maybe our baby boy here is just excited with our little arrangement, aren't you?" You groaned at the pet name.

"Can we maybe save that exclusively for the bedroom?," you chided. "It does make me horny, for the record."

"Nope," Wonyoung replied excitedly. "You're my – our – baby boy."

"You really like being called that?," Yuna asked, stroking the top of your head. "You're literally older than us."

You felt yourself physically shrink. "Only by a few months!," you retorted. "But... is it be weird if I said I liked it if you kept patting my head like that?"

"Not at all," Wonyoung replied, kissing your cheek again. "You're so cute."

"Kinky little shit," Yuna slapped your thigh. "But I'm into it."

All conversation ceased when Wonyoung's cellphone rang. She let go of everything to reach for the table. "Hello?," Wonyoung began. After a few thank yous, okays, and will dos, she hung up.

"Well guys, some news," Wonyoung said, everyone's breaths held. "We have another project, a brand shoot."

"When's it due?," you responded.

"End of the week, don't worry, we got time," Wonyoung replied. "But... we get to go to a beach resort!" Yuna clapped her hands excitedly.

"Guess that makes it worth the trouble then," you remarked. "It'll be a nicer place to work."

"With nicer views," Wonyoung added.

"And nicer beds," Yuna sighed.

You all paused, a single shared thought slowly forming between the three of you.

"So... your fingers?," Yuna teased.

"Can't wait, baby boy," Wonyoung cooed.

"Stop," you replied, a smirk plastered on your face.

—————

A/N: for the first time in a few years after lurking and reading, i finally finished something new. hoping i can actually finish a few more ive had drafted for a while now. 加油 or something like that

[kwilquib]

Careful What You Wish For

Series: Promised 9

Chapter - 1

Chapter 0 | Chapter 2

Lee Chaeyeoung (Fromis_9) X Male reader

Word Count: 8.8k+

a/n: please read chapter 0 first...

“...Just a little nap.” A voice—familiar yet frustratingly elusive—echoes in your mind as you jolt awake, drenched in cold sweat. The words linger, slippery and insistent, like a whisper you’re not supposed to remember.

Your heart pounds as your eyes dart around, landing on the ceiling of your room. Afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the walls. You sit up abruptly, a vague unease twisting in your chest. Something feels... off, though you can’t quite place it.

Shaking the thought, you glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table, only to realize it isn’t there. Did you forget to set it up last night? No time to ponder. Your body moves on instinct. Late. You’re definitely late.

Throwing on a crumpled shirt and the first pair of jeans you find, you fumble with your shoes, skipping the hassle of socks. There’s no time for a shower; no time for anything, really. Professor Min doesn’t tolerate tardiness, and while you’d normally convince yourself you could charm your way out of it, today is different. You feel heavy—foggy, like a part of you is still struggling to wake up.

You rush out of your room, backpack slung hastily over one shoulder. Yet as your hand touches the doorknob, you pause. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you, like you’ve forgotten something important. A flicker of... something—a faint image—dances on the edge of your consciousness.

Darkened windows. Cyan blue. Laughter and whispers.

You blink, and it’s gone.

“What the hell...?” you mutter, shaking your head as you swing the door open.

The hallway feels unfamiliar, even though you’ve walked it countless times. The walls seem a little too bare, the light a little too dim. Your feet carry you forward, but the nagging sensation that something isn’t right refuses to leave.

As you step outside, the sun’s warmth strikes your skin, grounding you momentarily. Yet, as you hurry toward campus, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder, as though expecting to see someone—or something—following.

The faint echo of that voice, soft and teasing, creeps back into your thoughts.

“Just a little nap.”

And for the life of you, you can’t remember what came before it.

As you step out of the dorm building, your hurried stride falters. A particular car catches your eye—a sleek, emerald green Mini Cooper parked casually at the curb. Its glossy finish gleams under the afternoon sun, an almost hypnotic allure drawing your gaze.

You pause, a strange pang of familiarity gripping your chest. It’s an uncommon car for this area, a neighborhood more accustomed to well-worn sedans and the occasional scooter. This Mini Cooper feels out of place, yet somehow… it doesn’t. Something about it nags at the edges of your mind, tugging at thoughts you can’t quite grasp.

“Why does this feel so... familiar?” you mumble under your breath, your feet rooted to the spot.

You study the car closely, as though its curves and details might unlock the reason it stands out. The deep green hue reminds you of something—vivid yet blurred, like a dream slipping away the moment you wake. Your thoughts swim with fragmented flashes: evening, under the street light, brown hair.

And then, nothing.

You shake your head, frustrated with yourself. It’s just a car, you tell yourself, though the words feel hollow. A part of you knows it isn’t just a car. It’s connected to something—or someone. But no matter how hard you try to chase the thought, it remains just out of reach, like a name you can’t remember no matter how many times you roll it around in your mind.

With a final glance at the Mini Cooper, you force yourself to move. There’s no time to stand around playing detective. Yet, as you walk away, you can’t help but feel like you’ve left behind more than just a car.

As you jogged up the university steps, the sharp echo of your hurried footsteps reverberated through the halls. The sound was accompanied by the pounding in your chest, a mix of adrenaline and residual confusion from your abrupt awakening. Your mind raced just as quickly as your feet.

"Please don't be over, please don't be over," you muttered under your breath, clutching your bag tightly as you approached the classroom door.

With a quick glance at the room number to confirm you were at the right place, you pushed the door open. The chatter inside abruptly quieted, and you were met with a sea of unfamiliar faces staring back at you. No sign of Professor Min. No familiar classmates. Instead, a lecturer you didn’t recognize stood at the front of the room, mid-discussion.

"Uh… sorry," you stammered, stepping back awkwardly.

The lecturer barely spared you a glance, and the students returned to their notebooks and screens. Confused, you slipped back into the hallway, your heart sinking. This didn’t make sense. You checked the schedule last night—it was supposed to be Literature in this room today.

Pulling out your phone, you glanced at the time. 1:47 PM. That was correct. But something else caught your eye.

The date.

You blinked, certain you’d read it wrong. Friday.

But that’s impossible, you thought. Yesterday was Wednesday, Wasn’t it?

Your stomach churned as you refreshed the screen, but the date stubbornly remained the same. You checked your calendar app, your messages—everything confirmed it was Friday.

A cold wave washed over you as the realization hit. Somehow, an entire day had slipped past you, and you didn’t even remember it. You staggered back against the wall, struggling to steady your breathing.

What’s going on?

—

You find yourself staring at your reflection in the school's bathroom mirror, your damp hair clings to your forehead. The gnawing discomfort of losing an entire day weighed heavily on you, but what else could you do? you need to move on. Whatever had happened to Thursday—or your memory of it—was a mystery you weren’t equipped to solve. At least not now. For now, you have to focus on damage control.

Pulling out your phone, you checked the course materials. The latest lecture—The Promised Nine. you frowned. The title rang a distant bell, but you couldn't quite place it. Deciding you wouldn't get anything done in your cramped apartment, you fix your damped hair and head out . Golden Brew seemed like the best choice; it was quiet, comfortable, and you had a shift there later anyway.

The walk to Golden Brew feels longer than usual. The streets are quieter now, the usual hustle of students replaced by a calm that only deepens your unease. You can’t shake the feeling that something is missing—something important—but every time you try to grasp it, it slips away like smoke.

When you finally push open the door to the café, the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries washes over you, grounding you for a moment. The place is bustling, as always, with students hunched over laptops and faculty members sipping espresso. You scan the room, looking for a quiet corner to settle into, when your eyes land on her.

Gyuri.

She’s behind the counter, her usual warm smile in place as she hands a customer their drink. But something about her feels different today. Her movements are slower, more deliberate, and there’s a faint crease between her brows that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, but you notice it—the way her gaze flickers to the door every so often, as if she’s waiting for someone.

“Junho,” she calls out, her voice warm but with a hint of something you can’t quite place. “You’re early today.”

You approach the counter, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I… had some time to kill. Thought I’d get a head start on some reading before my shift.”

Gyuri studies you for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not usually this early. Everything okay?”

Her question catches you off guard. There’s a suspicion in her tone, a probing curiosity that makes you feel like she’s seeing right through you. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” you say quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Just… trying to stay on top of things.”

Gyuri doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she nods toward the usual spot in the corner. “Well, find a seat and make yourself at home. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you say, grabbing a cup of coffee before heading to an empty table near the window.

As you sit down and pull out the book you borrowed from the library, your eyes drift across the room. That’s when you notice her.

Seoyeon.

She’s sitting in her usual spot, hunched over her laptop. She looks the same as ever, but something about her presence feels… heavier today, as if she’s carrying a weight she doesn’t want anyone to notice.

You watch her for a moment, struck by how familiar she seems, even though you’ve never had a proper conversion with her. She’s always here, always in that same spot, typing away at something. You’ve seen her countless times, but today, for some reason, she stands out to you. Maybe it’s the way she seems so detached from the world around her, or the way her tired eyes flicker to the screen with a kind of quiet intensity. Whatever it is, you can’t look away.

Gyuri doesn’t mention her, doesn’t even glance in her direction. It’s as if Seoyeon doesn’t exist to her, which strikes you as odd. You’ve always assumed they knew each other, given how often Seoyeon is here, but now you’re not so sure. The two of them seem to exist in separate worlds, even though they’re in the same room.

And yet… something about the way they don’t interact feels wrong to you. It’s not just that they don’t acknowledge each other—it’s that they should. You don’t know why you think that, but the thought lingers, nagging at the back of your mind. There’s a strange dissonance in the air, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re missing something obvious.

Shaking off the thought, you pull out your phone and open the document. The title stares back at you: Myths and Legends: The Promised Nine. It’s the same myth Professor Min discussed in class yesterday—or at least, the class you think was yesterday. You flip to the chapter, skimming the first few lines. The words feel familiar, almost too familiar, as if you’ve read them before. A faint sense of déjà vu washes over you, and you pause, your fingers hovering over the page.

“Long ago, during a time when humanity was steeped in chaos, war, and unrelenting greed, there was a king—a wise man, yet weary of the barbarism that plagued his people…”

The words echo in your mind, but not just from Professor Min’s lecture. Something deeper, something more recent, tugs at the edges of your memory. Fragments of last night begin to surface—flickers of a darkened café, the hum of low voices, the glow of cyan light. Your chest tightens as the images grow clearer. The women gathered around the table, their presence commanding and otherworldly. Gyuri’s uncharacteristic coolness. Jiheon’s playful smile, her fingers glowing with that eerie light. The weight of their words—The Promised Nine. Anchor. Deceit.

Your breath catches, and you nearly drop your phone. It all comes rushing back—the meeting, the cryptic conversation, Jiheon’s spell. You remember everything. The shock of it hits you like a punch to the gut, and you grip the edge of the table to steady yourself. Your heart races, your mind reeling as the pieces fall into place.

Gyuri and Seoyeon. They were there. They were part of it. They’re part of this—whatever this is. The realization sends a chill down your spine, and you glance up, your eyes darting to Gyuri behind the counter. She’s watching you, her expression unreadable but her gaze sharp, as if she can sense the turmoil in your mind. Seoyeon, too, has paused her typing, her tired eyes flickering toward you for the briefest moment before returning to her screen.

You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in your head. You can’t let them know you remember. Not yet. Not until you figure out what’s going on. Slowly, you close the book and set it aside, your hands trembling slightly. You take a sip of your coffee, the bitter taste grounding you, and pretend to focus on the steam rising from the cup.

But inside, your mind is racing. The Promised Nine. Anchor. The weight of their emotions, their burdens. And you—somehow, you were there. You heard it all. You saw it all. And now, you’re caught in the middle of something far bigger than yourself.

Gyuri’s voice breaks through your thoughts. “Junho, everything okay over there?”

You look up, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… got lost in thought for a second.”

She studies you for a moment, her gaze lingering a little too long, before nodding. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm inside.

As she turns away, you glance at Seoyeon again. She’s still typing, her movements slow and deliberate, but there’s a tension in her shoulders that wasn’t there before. You can’t tell if she’s aware of your internal crisis or if it’s just your paranoia, but one thing is clear: you’re not as invisible as you’d like to be.

For now, all you can do is keep up the act. You reopen the book, pretending to read, but the words blur as your mind races. The memories of last night play on a loop, each detail sharper than the last. You need answers, but you can’t risk tipping them off. Not until you know what you’re dealing with.

The café hums with activity around you, but at your table, the silence is deafening. You take another sip of your coffee, the bitterness grounding you slightly. Whatever is going on, you’re determined to figure it out. But for now, all you can do is sit here, pretending to read, while the weight of the unknown presses down on you.

The hours drag on as you finally start your shift, your mind still reeling from the flood of memories that returned while reading the book. Every movement feels deliberate, every action calculated, as if Gyuri might notice the slightest slip-up. You’re hyper-aware of her now, her presence looming larger than ever as the two of you work in close proximity behind the counter. Her usual warmth is still there, but it feels… different. Like a mask she’s wearing, one that’s just a little too tight.

You fumble with the espresso machine, nearly spilling a shot as you pour it into a cup. The milk steamer hisses louder than usual, startling you, and you overfill a latte, the foam spilling over the edges. Each mistake piles up, small but noticeable, and you can feel Gyuri’s eyes on you more and more often. Her smile remains, but there’s a tension in her posture, a sharpness in her gaze that makes your stomach twist.

Finally, after you nearly drop a tray of pastries, Gyuri steps closer, her voice low but firm. “Junho, can I talk to you for a second?”

You freeze, your heart pounding as you nod and follow her to a quieter corner of the café. Her warm smile is still in place, but it feels strained now, like it’s holding back something you can’t quite name. Anger? Frustration? Whatever it is, it’s enough to make your palms sweat.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, her tone gentle but probing. “You’ve been… off today.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… tired, I guess. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

Gyuri studies you for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re sure that’s all it is?”

You nod, though your throat feels dry. “Yeah. Just a rough night.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but before she can press further, the bell above the door jingles, drawing both of your attention. You glance over, and your stomach drops.

Chaeyoung.

She strides in with effortless confidence, her presence commanding the room the moment she crosses the threshold. A bold blue sweater clings to her frame, the faux fur trim brushing against her collarbone—a perfect reflection of her duality. Allure and restraint. Desire and control. Her sharp gaze sweeps across the café before settling on you, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

You recognize her instantly from last night. But you force yourself to look away, pretending you don’t.

From the corner of your eye, Gyuri stiffens ever so slightly, though she quickly masks it with her usual warm smile. “I’ll let you handle this,” she says, her tone light but laced with something unreadable. Before you can respond, she’s already disappearing into the back, leaving you alone at the counter with Chaeyoung.

Your heart pounds as you turn to face her, forcing a polite smile. “Welcome to Golden Brew. What can I get for you?”

Chaeyoung doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she leans against the counter, her eyes locking onto yours with unsettling ease. “Junho, right?”

Your stomach drops. The name feels heavier coming from her lips. You scramble to keep your composure. “I... don’t know you.”

She smirks, savoring your discomfort. “Of course you don’t.” She gestures lazily toward your chest. “I read it off your name tag. Unless we have met before?”

“No— I... we haven’t,” you stammer, fingers curling involuntarily. “Can I take your order?”

“I’ll have a caramel macchiato. Extra shot.” She watches you with an almost amused expression. Then, casually, she adds, “Funny thing... I feel like we have met. Maybe you just don’t remember?”

Your throat tightens, and you quickly focus on the register, keying in her order. “That’ll be 4,500 won.”

Chaeyoung makes no move to pay. Instead, she leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You remember, don’t you?”

Your hands tremble slightly as you fumble with the cash drawer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her smile widens, and there’s a flicker of something dangerous in her eyes. “Sure you don’t. But just in case you’re lying... meet me after your shift.” She tilts her head slightly, the threat barely concealed beneath her playful tone. “If you don’t, I might have to let the others know your memories are coming back. And trust me... you don’t want that.”

Your pulse quickens, the café suddenly feeling too small, too stifling. Before you can respond, Gyuri reappears from the back, her timing unnervingly precise. She places the caramel macchiato on the counter, her smile unwavering but her eyes sharper than usual. “Here’s your drink. That’ll be 4,500 won.”

Chaeyoung straightens, pulling out her wallet with deliberate slowness. “Thanks, Gyuri. Always so helpful.”

Gyuri’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s an unmistakable tension in her posture. “Junho, can you check on table three? They’ve been waiting for their order.”

You seize the opportunity, nodding quickly and stepping away. As you walk toward the other side of the café, you can feel Chaeyoung’s gaze burning into your back, her presence lingering like an unwelcome shadow.

—

The shift drags on, each minute feeling heavier than the last. By the time evening rolls around, the café has emptied out, the usual hum of chatter replaced by an eerie silence. You’re hyper-aware of Gyuri’s presence, her every movement sharp and deliberate, as if she’s watching you more closely than usual. Your clumsy mistakes throughout the day haven’t gone unnoticed, and the tension between you feels like a taut wire, ready to snap.

Seoyeon, who had been typing away in her usual corner, left at some point without you even noticing. Her absence feels strange, as if the café lost a piece of its atmosphere when she walked out. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely register Gyuri approaching you, her expression softer now but still tinged with concern.

“Junho,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “You can leave early tonight. I’ll close up.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Are you sure? I can stay and help—”

“No,” she interrupts, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ve been… off today. You should rest. You don’t look well.”

Her words sting, not because they’re harsh, but because they’re true. You do feel off—like you’re teetering on the edge of something you can’t quite understand. Still, you hesitate, glancing around the café. “Are you sure you don’t need me?”

Gyuri’s smile is warm, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sure. Go home, Junho. Get some sleep.”

You nod reluctantly, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. As you head for the door, you can feel her gaze on your back, heavy and unreadable. The bell above the door jingles softly as you step outside, the cool evening air hitting you like a splash of water.

The street is quiet, the golden glow of the café’s windows fading behind you as you walk. Your mind is still racing, the events of the day—and the night before—swirling together in a chaotic mess. You’re so lost in thought that you almost miss it.

A flash of light catches your eye, and you turn to see a sleek, blue sapphire Porsche parked a short distance away. Its engine purrs softly, the headlights briefly flickering as if to get your attention. Your breath hitches. It’s one of the cars you saw last night, parked outside the café after hours. And now, it’s here.

Your stomach twists as you realize what—or rather, who—it must belong to. Chaeyoung.

The memory of her threat echoes in your mind: “Meet me after your shift. If you don’t, I might have to let the others know your memories came back.”

You hesitate, your feet rooted to the spot. Part of you wants to turn around, to walk away and pretend you didn’t see anything. But another part—the part that remembers the weight of her gaze, the sharpness of her smile—knows you don’t have a choice.

Taking a deep breath, you walk toward the car. As you approach, the passenger-side window rolls down, revealing Chaeyoung behind the wheel. Her sharp eyes meet yours, a sly smile playing on her lips. She’s dressed in the same sleek blue dress from earlier, the deep blue fabric catching the faint glow of the streetlights.

“Get in,” she says, her voice smooth and commanding.

You glance around, as if hoping for some kind of escape, but the street is empty. Swallowing your unease, you open the door and slide into the passenger seat. The interior of the car is as luxurious as you’d expect, the leather seats cool against your skin. The scent of her perfume—something rich and intoxicating—fills the air, making your head spin.

Chaeyoung doesn’t say a word as she pulls away from the curb, the car gliding smoothly through the quiet streets. The silence is heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional flick of the turn signal. You sit stiffly, your hands clenched in your lap, your mind racing. Where is she taking you? What does she want? And most importantly, what happens if the others find out you remember?

The tension builds with every passing second, and you can’t take it anymore. “Chaeyoung,” you say, your voice tight with impatience, “what’s this about? Why did you bring me here?”

She glances at you briefly, her smirk widening. “Impatient, aren’t we? Relax, Junho. We’ll get there.”

“Get where?” you ask, frustration creeping into your tone. “You said you wanted to talk. So talk.”

Chaeyoung chuckles softly, her fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. “So eager. I like that. But some things are better discussed in private, don’t you think?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure. “You threatened me back at the café. Said you’d tell the others if I didn’t meet you. What do you want from me?”

Her expression doesn’t change, but there’s a glint in her eyes that makes your stomach twist. “Patience, Junho. All in good time.”

You want to press her further, to demand answers, but something about her calm demeanor stops you. She’s in control, and you’re not. The realization makes your skin crawl.

The car continues to glide through the city, the streets growing quieter and more upscale the further you go. Finally, Chaeyoung slows the car and pulls into the driveway of a luxurious hotel. The building looms ahead, its glass façade reflecting the city lights like a glittering jewel. A valet steps forward as the car comes to a stop, but Chaeyoung waves him off with a dismissive hand.

She turns to you, her sharp eyes locking onto yours. “We’re here.”

You stare at her, your heart pounding. “A hotel? What are we doing here?”

Chaeyoung’s smile is slow and deliberate, her voice dropping to a low, almost teasing tone. “Like I said, some things are better discussed in private. Come on.”

Without waiting for your response, she steps out of the car, her movements smooth and confident. You hesitate for a moment, your mind racing. This feels like a trap, but what choice do you have? If you walk away now, she might make good on her threat. And if the others find out you remember...

Swallowing your unease, you open the door and step out, the cool night air doing little to calm your nerves. Chaeyoung is already walking toward the hotel entrance, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. She doesn’t look back, as if she knows you’ll follow.

And you do.

—

The penthouse suite is bathed in the soft glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room is spacious and opulent, with plush furniture and a sleek, modern design that screams luxury. But you’re too on edge to appreciate any of it. Chaeyoung stands a few feet away, her back to you as she pours two glasses of wine from a decanter on the counter. The bold blue sweater she wears clings to her frame, the faux fur trim brushing against her collarbone as she moves. She looks relaxed, almost casual, but you know better. There’s nothing casual about this.

“Sit,” she says, not turning around. Her voice is smooth, commanding, and you find yourself obeying before you even realize it. You perch on the edge of a sleek leather sofa, your hands gripping your knees as you watch her.

She turns, holding out a glass of wine to you. You hesitate, but she raises an eyebrow, and you take it, your fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. The contact sends a jolt through you, but you quickly pull your hand back, setting the glass on the table in front of you.

“Relax, Junho,” she says, her lips curving into a sly smile as she sits across from you, her posture languid and confident. “I’m not going to bite. Not unless you want me to.”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “Why are we here, Chaeyoung? What do you want from me?”

She tilts her head, her smile widening. “Straight to the point, huh? I like that.” She takes a sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving yours. “I told you before. I’m curious about you. You’re… interesting.”

“Interesting how?” you ask, your voice tight.

She leans forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. “You somehow got through the mist. Jiheon just let you through. And now, Jiheon lied to the others for you.”

You shake your head, trying to keep your composure. “Mist? Jiheon? We’ve only known each other since yesterday. And didn’t you also see me when you entered the café that night?”

“Hmm,” she hums, her gaze sharpening. “Maybe… but that makes you even more interesting.”

You don’t respond, your mind racing. She’s toying with you, and you know it, but you can’t figure out her angle. Why bring you here? Why the games?

Chaeyoung sets her glass down and stands, moving to sit beside you on the sofa. You tense, but she doesn’t touch you, her presence alone enough to make your heart race. “You’re nervous,” she observes, her voice soft, almost teasing. “Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you say quickly, though the lie is obvious. “I just… don’t understand what you want from me.”

She smiles, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Maybe I just want to get to know you better. Is that so bad?”

You don’t answer, your throat dry. She’s too close, her scent—something rich and intoxicating—filling your senses. You try to focus, to keep your guard up, but it’s getting harder. There’s something about her, something magnetic, that’s pulling you in, and you can’t figure out why.

Chaeyoung leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re fighting it, Junho. Why?”

“Fighting what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“This,” she says, gesturing between the two of you. “The tension. The attraction. You feel it too, don’t you?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. She’s right, and you hate that she is. There’s something about her, something irresistible, and the more she leans into it, the harder it is to resist.

“You don’t have to fight it,” she murmurs, her voice like velvet. “Just let go.”

Her words are soft, almost hypnotic, and you feel yourself leaning in despite your better judgment. Your mind screams at you to pull away, to leave, but your body betrays you, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She’s close now, so close you can feel her breath on your skin, and you know you should stop this, but you can’t.

And then, just as your lips are about to meet hers, you see it—a faint flash in her eyes the color of allure and depth, sapphire blue, like a spark of light catching the edge of a gemstone. It’s there for just a moment, so brief you almost convince yourself you imagined it. But before you can process it, her lips are on yours, and all rational thought evaporates.

The kiss is electric, consuming, and you’re powerless to resist. Her hands slide up to cradle your face, her touch both gentle and demanding, pulling you deeper into the moment. The taste of her is intoxicating, a mix of wine and something uniquely her, and it’s impossible to think, to breathe, to do anything but surrender.

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you—the warmth of her body, the softness of her lips, the way she seems to know exactly how to unravel you. But even as you lose yourself in the kiss, a small, distant part of your mind whispers that something isn’t right. That flash in her eyes… It wasn't normal. It wasn’t human.

But then she deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours, and the thought slips away, drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of her. The way she moves is deliberate, teasing, and you can’t help but respond, your own instincts taking over. Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and you’re lost in the heat of the moment, unable to think, to reason, to do anything but feel.

And at that moment, you don’t care. Whatever she’s doing, whatever game she’s playing, you’re too far gone to stop it.

When she finally pulls away, it’s slow, deliberate, her lips lingering just inches from yours. Her breath is warm against your skin, and her eyes—now their usual dark, piercing gaze—lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“See?” she murmurs, her voice low and husky. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You're too dazed to respond, your mind still reeling from the kiss. She smiles, a slow, satisfied curve of her lips, and leans back, putting just enough distance between you to make you ache for her closeness again. Your eyes meet with hers. You can tell what she's thinking, she takes pleasure in seeing you this flustered. Chaeyoung's fingers trail down your chest, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

She kneels down in front of you, her eyes locked onto yours as she slowly unfastens the button on your pants. The zipper slides open with a gentle click, and she pulls your trousers down with deft hands. You can't help but breathe a little heavier as she cups your lenght through the fabric of your boxers, her touch sending sparks along your body.

She teases you for a moment, tracing patterns on your skin with her fingers before giving in to the desire that's been building between you two. Chaeyoung asks, her voice low and husky as she leans forward to whisper in your ear, "Want to see something?" You can't help but nod, your throat dry with anticipation.

With a sly smile, Chaeyoung takes her time, pulling down your pants and boxers with a gentle tug. Her eyes dance across your body, drinking in every detail as she licks her lips in anticipation.

"Look at me," Chaeyoung says, her voice low and commanding. "Tell me what you want to do with yourself."

You try to form words, but all that comes out is a groan of desire. Chaeyoung laughs, a soft sound that sends shivers down your spine.

"Oh, I think this guy knows what he wants," she says, glancing at your shaft before her eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

Her lips brush against your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. She kisses you slowly, incrementally making her way up to your tip. With each gentle touch, your meat twitches in response, and Chaeyoung enjoys every reaction, her eyes never leaving yours.

As she reaches the base of your shaft, she pauses for a moment before continuing her ascent. Her lips dance across your skin, sending shivers down your spine with each caress. You feel yourself becoming harder, more insistent, as if begging to be claimed by her touch.

Chaeyoung's mouth covers yours now, warm and soft against your skin. Your breath catches as she nibbles at your tip, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. She takes her time, savoring the moment as much as you are. Your heart pounds in time with hers, the rhythm matching the beat of your desire.

Just when you thought you were finally adjusting to the explosion of stimulation you’ve experienced. She stopped, her eyes met yours.

"Want me to make it easier for you?" Chaeyoung asks, her voice low and husky as she leans forward to whisper in your ear. "Want me to show you exactly what I want?"

Your gaze locked with Chaeyoung although her mouth is preoccupied to form a smile, you can see it through her eyes. She planted both her palms on your lap, gripping them, as her cheeks hollowed as she took you in deeper, her tongue moving freely, swirling around your meat. The sensation was too much, her warm, wet mouth enveloping you as she worked to bring you pleasure. All you can do is groan. As you helplessly grip the sofa.

The reaction as if giving her energy, her pace grew faster, taking you even deeper, you can feel her tongue pressed down by your shaft as she sucks. The wet sound rings to your ear, her moans muffled, its vibration moves through your skin as she serves you pleasure, and it's close. She matched your eye once again, you can see she has no intention of stopping. Her lip tightening around you as she sucked even more harder, her tongue swirled around your tip, her movement grew bolder as she knew you were near the edge.

You groaned one last time as it finally happened. At the last moment she freed her mouth from your length and switched it immediately with her palm cupping the top of your tip, catching your release.

"That's it?" her eyes looking at you disappointed. Before her attention shifts to her hand full with cum. "It was fun at least". She continues.

You stare at her still in dazed, as she was sitting on the floor, she first licked her palm clean of your cum, then her fingers sucking them one by one. After cleaning herself up, she realized you were still staring at her.

“‘You’re still here?’ Chaeyoung mildly amused, her eyes locked on yours once again. A faint, otherworldly light seemed to dance in their depths, as if they were absorbing the very air around them.

“You can leave now,” she said with a wave of her hand, as if ousting you from her presence.

Your confusion deepened at her question. "What do you mean, leave?" you replied, unsure of what she was getting at.

Chaeyoung's eyes widened in surprise as you sat up straight, mirroring her bewilderment. "How?" she asked again, her voice tinged with frustration and curiosity.

Your confusion deepened at her question. "What do you mean, how?" you replied, unsure of what she was getting at.

Chaeyoung stood up and placed her hands on either side of the sofa, trapping you in between her grip. Her eyes, filled with the tiniest hint of blue, bore into you, making you feel as if she was delving into your soul.

"You remember?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes, I remember last night. Isn't that why we're here?" you answered back.

"No, not that. Just now, what happened, did you remember it? Were you conscious?" Chaeyoung queried again.

“Am I not supposed to?” You asked.

Still maintaining her lock on you, she broke eye contact and started muttering, "So Jiheon didn't lie... you're either resistant if not immune..." Her thoughts drifting away from you.

"Helloooo..." you try to get her attention, snapping her out of her musings. Her gaze returns to your eyes, reminding you of how close your face is.

"Anyway, what will you do now? Will you leave?" she asked, her voice regaining its usual confidence.

"Should I leave? Do you want me to?" you reply, starting to get annoyed with the constant questions and stacking confusion.

Chaeyoung seemingly recognizes your hidden desire. "So you don't want to?" She shifts her position, her arms which were on your sides before now resting on your shoulder, crossing behind your neck. Her feet, once on the ground, now on both your sides as she sits on your lap.

"Why? Is there a reason you want to stay?" she asked, her voice teasing you.

"Well, I feel like it's only right that I return the favor," you answer, your desire to explore this new dynamic between you both growing. Chaeyoung's eyes widen at your response, her lips curling into a smile as she leans in, her breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Chaeyoung's eyes widened further, her smile turning into a predatory grin. "Be careful what you wish for, Junho," she whispers in your ear, her voice laced with both warning and invitation. "Are you sure you want to continue?, you sure you can handle it?”

She pauses, allowing the weight of her words to sink in. "It's not too late to walk out, after this there's no going back" Chaeyoung explains, her voice low and intense.

Driven by lust and the thrill of the unknown, Junho doesn't take her warning too seriously. "I can handle it," he responds, his confidence fueled by arousal.

Chaeyoung's grin widens as she leans back, her eyes never leaving yours. "Then show me how much you can handle," she dares you.

Your heart races as you accept the challenge. You take hold of Chaeyoung's waist, pulling her closer as your lips meet in a passionate, fiery kiss. Your hands roam her body, exploring her curves and feeling the heat of her desire.

She moans into your mouth, her hands moving to your chest, then to the end of your shirt, pulling it up, undressing you as if impatient to have your skin against hers. Your lips never falter, continuing their fiery dance as her hands roam over your chest, exploring every ridge and valley.

With the same fervor that you tore her clothes, you begin to undress her, your lips never leaving hers, your hands never leaving her body. Only stopping to catch air, you take a break from kissing, giving you enough time to admire her now barely dressed top, with only her black lace bra remaining.

Chaeyoung, impatiently, hastily stands up, and in a fluid motion, removes her shorts, then her panties, casting them aside. You, not idle, pull down your pants and boxers which were already previously unbuckled.

After undressing, with the exception of Chaeyoung's bra, you're both completely naked. She returns to your lap, and resumes the kiss, her hands roaming your back, her nails digging into your skin, urging you on.

Your hands grasp her waist, pulling her closer, your bodies pressed tightly against each other. As the kiss deepens, you can feel her hardened nipples rubbing against your chest, sending shivers down your spine.

Chaeyoung breaks the kiss, her lips trailing down your jaw, to your neck, her teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin there, as her hands reach around to unclasp her bra. It falls away, her breasts freed, her nipples standing erect, aching for your touch.

You eagerly complied, your hands finding Chaeyoung's breasts, cupping them gently, thumbs teasing her nipples, rolling them between your fingers, making her shiver with pleasure. Her head falls back, a soft moan escaping her lips.

You move your hands lower, tracing her stomach, and settling between her legs. Your fingers part her folds, gently rubbing her swollen clit, feeling her wetness coating his digits. Chaeyoung's moans grow louder, her hips bucking against his hand, encouraging you to continue.

Your other hand leaves her breast, moving to her hip, steadying her as you begin to finger her, slowly at first, then increasing the pace as you feel her body reacting to your touch. Her back arches, and her fingers claw at your shoulders, leaving red marks.

The air is thick with the scent of desire, the sounds of their heavy breathing, and the wet slaps of your fingers penetrating her. Chaeyoung's eyes flutter shut, her body quivering, on the edge of release.

You feel a surge of power, knowing you're the one bringing her closer to ecstasy. You stop, smirking against her lips as you pull your fingers from her, bringing them to your mouth, tasting her on them.

Chaeyoung's eyes open wide, a look of both frustration and desire on her face. "Put it in.." she whispers, her voice breathy and needy. Junho smirks, ready to continue their erotic dance.

You prepare yourself to pierce Chaeyoung, the sensation was both overwhelming and exhilarating. The tight warmth enveloping me sent shivers down my spine. You could feel her muscles clenching around you, gripping your length, and her orgasm washes over her like a tidal wave.

Chaeyoung's body arched, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her cry of ecstasy echoing in the room. Her eyes seemed to lock onto yours, filled with the subtle color of allure. I asked her, "Why did that happen so fast?" My voice was laced with curiosity and a hint of concern.

Flushed with both embarrassment and amusement, Chaeyoung admitted, "I... I haven't done it in a while." Her cheeks were a vivid shade of red as she revealed, "Usually, others never got this far."

You feel a surge of pride and protectiveness, your heart pounding with each beat. you start to move within her, your thrusting slow and deep, feeling her body responding to your touch. The sensation of her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer, is intoxicating.

“Oh…. Fuck… that feel… sooo.. Good…” Cheayoung exclaimed.

You feel the telltale signs that Chaeyoung is nearing her climax once again. Her moans grow louder, her pants hasten, her muscles tightening around your length, her nails digging deeper into your shoulders. You can sense the electricity building between you two, as you match her intensity, with lust fueling both your passion.

"That's it… I'm close, keep going… plea–... please," Chaeyoung pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation as she pressed against me, her body yearning for release. The air was electric with tension, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of desire at the sight of her, her skin glowing with sweat, her eyes locked on yours with an unspoken plea.

As Chaeyoung reaches her climax for the second time, her body shudders, her grip on you tightening as her cries fill the room. A wave of satisfaction and arousal washes over you, and you continue to move with her, wanting her to feel every moment of connection between the two of you. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise sends shivers down your spine.

"Wa- wait… not yet," she gasps, her words interrupted by uncontrollable moans that echo through the room like a symphony of pleasure. Her body begins to tremble, her muscles convulsing as if trying to release a pent-up storm.

Breathless yourself, you decide to heed her plea, slowing your movements to give her a moment to recover. Chaeyoung's body, now glistening with sweat, slumps against yours, her stiff nipples brushing against your skin as she rests her head on your shoulder. Her face is a mess, strands of hair clinging to her flushed cheeks, her lips parted as she gasps for air.

Gently, you guide her into a new position, placing her hands on the backrest of the couch and helping her kneel on the cushions. You stand behind her, taking a moment to admire the curve of her toned back, the delicate dip of her waist, and the graceful arch of her hips. The sight of her is intoxicating, and you feel a renewed surge of desire that threatens to overwhelm you.

Chaeyoung's brief respite ends as you join with her again, moving in a rhythm that feels both familiar and exhilarating. Her body responds to yours, her grip tightening as if unwilling to let go. Every movement, every breath, every whispered promise sends shivers down my spine, building the tension until it becomes almost unbearable.

"I can't... no... I- can't..." she murmurs, her voice a mix of protest and surrender, though the way she clings to you tells a different story. You wrap one of your arms around her waist, holding her in place for support, while the other reaches up to grip her neck, feeling the tension in her throat muscles as each of her moans vibrates through her body.

With a gentle pull, you bring her closer, your bodies pressed tightly together as you stand. Her hands, desperate to find something to hold onto, wrap around your hair and grasp it firmly. Her head turns to yours, her eyes locking onto yours with an unspoken plea for release, for connection, for the one person who can satisfy her.

"You feel so good," you whisper, your voice husky with desire as you meet hers once again in a fierce, passionate kiss. Chaeyoung's body shudders and trembles beneath you, her third climax building to a crescendo that threatens to consume them both.

And then, in a burst of energy, you felt your body tense and release, your orgasm building to a crescendo as Chaeyoung's muscles responded to yours. You could feel your seed mixing with hers, a union of flesh and blood that was both intimate and primal. The sensation was overwhelming - a mix of pleasure, pain, and release that left you breathless and trembling.

As the wave of pleasure washed over you, you felt Chaeyoung's body tighten around yours, her muscles contracting to hold onto your spent form. You knew then that you had come inside her, that your seed had mingled with hers in a union of flesh and blood that would remain with you forever.

As you hold on to her tightly, feeling her body lose strength against yours, you can sense the power dynamic shifting in between you. You are the one in control, the one guiding her movements, but she is still clinging to you, as if needing your strength to keep her upright.

You continue to hold her close, your lips never leaving hers, as Chaeyoung's body begins to relax into yours, her breathing slowing and her muscles releasing their tension. You can feel her heart pounding in time with yours, a rhythmic match that seems to be growing stronger by the second.

Just when you thought she was spent, her body turned to face you. She created distance between your lips, giving you a clear view of her face, even with her messy hair and sweat-drenched cheeks, her face wore a smile, instead of exhaustion and satisfaction. Her still eyes full of passion and hunger seemed to bore into your soul.

You realized the night had just started, her eyes hinting at a desire for an endless night. “I told you, Junho, be careful what you wish for”.

Her lips returned to you, unrelenting as she led you to the bedroom. The rest of the night was blurry, but one thing was clear - your desires and hers had merged into a single, all-consuming passion.

—

You wake to the soft glow of pre-dawn light filtering through the window, the sky painted in muted shades of blue and gray. The bed beneath you is warm but messy, the sheets tangled and damp, a testament to the night’s activities. You blink slowly, your mind still foggy, as you take in your surroundings.

By the window, Chaeyoung stands, her silhouette framed against the cityscape. She’s completely bare, her back to you, her posture relaxed yet commanding. The faint light catches the curves of her figure, and for a moment, you’re struck by how effortlessly she commands the room, even in stillness.

Her voice breaks the silence, soft but clear, and you realize she’s not just standing there—she’s on the phone.

“...Jiheon was telling the truth,” she says, her tone thoughtful. “It doesn’t work on him. He’s… resistant to it.”

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. Resistant to what? Your mind races, fragments of the night before flashing through your thoughts—her sapphire-blue eyes, the way she seemed to pull you in, the way you couldn’t resist her. Was it all… her? Her magic?

A deep unease coils in your chest, the realization creeping in slowly. What have you done? You replay the night over and over in your head, trying to convince yourself it was your choice—that you wanted it. But doubt gnaws at you, whispering insidious thoughts. Did she manipulate you? Was any of it real? Or were you just another piece in whatever game she was playing?

Chaeyoung continues, her voice calm but firm. “He’s perfect for the job. What else do you need? He’s already acquainted and close to the other girls. Plus, he knows our secret, and we can’t exactly get rid of him now, can we?”

Her words send a chill down your spine. Perfect for the job? What job? And what secret? Your mind spins, but before you can process it, Chaeyoung turns toward the bed. The dim light hides her expression, but you can feel her smile, sharp and knowing, as if she’s aware you’re awake and listening.

“Don’t worry, Romsae,” she says, her voice dropping slightly. “He’s more than adequate. I checked him myself.”

The way she says it—confident, almost smug—makes your cheeks burn. The heat rising to your face is laced with something far heavier than embarrassment—regret. Should you have resisted? Should you have walked away when you had the chance? Now, it feels like you’ve stepped into something far beyond your understanding, and there’s no easy way out.

You want to say something, to demand answers, but your body feels heavy, your thoughts sluggish. Chaeyoung ends the call and sets her phone aside, her movements unhurried as she approaches the bed.

Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you’re pinned under her gaze. You search her expression for anything genuine, anything real—but all you find is that same knowing look, like she’s already figured you out.

She reaches out, her fingers brushing against your cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle. “You should sleep more,” she murmurs, her voice soft, almost soothing. “It’s going to be a long day.”

Her words wash over you like a lullaby, and despite the storm of questions raging in your mind, you feel yourself drifting. Your eyelids grow heavy, and the last thing you see before sleep claims you is Chaeyoung’s faint smile, her sapphire-blue eyes glowing softly in the dim light.

And as darkness takes you, the doubt lingers—settling deep within your bones. Did you make the right choice? Or did you just seal your fate?

Next ->

[lunarxcity]

Why Fight? (Part XI to Why Me?)

Azriel x rhys sister! reader!

angst/eventual comfort (When Azriel's brush with death has him meeting some interesting individuals lol)

Summary: When you walk in on Azriel and Elain the mating bond snaps leading you to flee to Autumn with Eris so you can be free of Azriel. Your absence causes Azriel to come to some drastic realisations, but is it already too late and has your time in Autumn led to you moving on?

Parts I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, and X if you missed them!

-

Azriel didn't know where he was. The last thing he remembered was that he was wounded and it was bad and he needed to see you before the injury took him. He remembers you running to him, his body giving out from the pain and then darkness.

This was not the darkness he was accustomed to, the darkness of his shadows and the darkness that usually cloaks him in the night. This darkness was a wave taking him under he had no control to fight against it's current.

His memory was hazy and he couldn't feel his body, but he did feel the faint flicker of your bond in his chest. He woke up and was blinded by a bright light white unlike anything he had ever seen. The ceiling, the floors, everything was pristine white, bathed in a radiating glow.

Azriel was waiting for his shadows to scan the surroundings when he realised he couldn't hear them. He shot up and frantically searched his shoulders when he realised that they were no longer with him.

Where was he, and what is this place? He got up and walked forward. The room seemed like it was a shaped like cube, but moving only a few steps hade made Azriel feel as if he had gone through a tunnel.

The magic here was unlike anything he had ever felt. He zones back in to see two individuals, a man and a woman, sitting at a table in front of a shimmering crystalline chessboard.

There was something about them that seemed almost ethereal. The woman was almost iridescent; she had a magnificent halo of lavender, blues, and a sea green surrounding her. She had the divine beauty of a sunset in a way that suggested that she was much more than human or fae.

If she was the sunset, the man across from her was the equally dazzling sunrise. His halo of pinks, oranges, and gold surrounds his equally beautiful and ethereal self.

From the power emanating from them alone, Azriel knew that they had to be some higher entity. In a voice as calm as a summer's breeze the woman goes, "Come Azriel. Please sit."

The woman waves her hand, and an empty chair appears at the table. Azriel complies feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. He doesn't remember ever seeing this woman before, but there is something about her energy that makes him swear they have encountered each other before.

She gives him a comforting smile, "It's good to see you, even if it's much sooner than I would have liked. You have always been one of my stubbornest you know, which is why I had to match you with someone who could equally match your stubbornness with their own."

She looks at the man, and a look of fondness and reminiscence flashes between them. Azriel was good at piecing these things together, he was the spymaster for a reason, but every logical bone in his body was fighting the conclusion he was coming to.

"You're the Mother?" He asks skeptically.

She gives him a warm smile and a nod. "In the flesh- Well in the whatever manifestation I am taking in order to not freak you out too much."

He looks over to the man, "And you are?"

Fate was a rather prideful being but when you are with the Mother you kind of take a backseat and while he did harbor some resentment at the beginning of their relationship, he now harbors a certain pride with being able to craft mortal fates. While the mother does get most of the credit he enjoys working with her too much to overshadow her.

"Fate at your service." He tips his fat, which had just appeared out of nowhere seemingly for the sole reason that he could tip it.

Azriel was losing his mind. First, the Mother and now Fate, what's next luck?

"Lucky isn't around much, believe it or not, he is not the biggest fan of losing. His 1000 year ban from game night expires next fall."

Azriel is dumbfounded. The deities that are the puppet masters, pulling the strings of the very life he knows, have a game night. Mother above, well Mother in front of him and they can read his thoughts.

"Yes we can. Now, it's time for the important stuff-"

The Mother cuts him off, "Ignore him my child he is much too eager about the fates that fight back the one he has laid out for them. It's like a game to him, pay no mind to him."

Fate looks offended, he immediately starts sputtering and looks around the room to see if anyone saw this terrible crime against his nosiness. It was just him, Azriel, and the Mother and when he realised that neither of them were going to entertain his dramatics he just sat there silently.

"What do you mean fight my fate? Is that because I'm dying is this the end?" Azriel asks fear creeping into his voice. He had never particularly feared death; it was almost a given that it would one day take him either in war or during a mission, but he had a mate. He couldn't leave you behind.

"I know you worry for your mate, she will be fine." The Mother tries to reassure him in that voice as smooth as dripping honey.

Fate decides that now is the perfect time to interject, "Besides you've had so much time together. Shouldn't you be at peace now?"

These are fighting words meant to provoke, Fate and the Mother both know it.

The words leave Azriel stunned because while you did have all that time together and Azriel did cherish every minute of it, he never got to experience it as your mate and if he went on without you even knowing what he was to you, he would take that regret with him wherever the Mother sends him.

"Why didn't you? Did you not love her before she was your mate." Fate is going for the jugular. He always did hate to lose and now it was him and the Mother against a mysterious sinister opponent. Azriel was almost there he just needed a push.

At this Azriel shoots up the Mother beckons him to sit down and with a wave of her hand Fate's mouth is magically glued shut.

"I have loved her for longer than I have ever known, I just never believed myself deserving of that love, so I created self-fulfilling prophecies that would only extenuate my issue because she deserves better than being doomed to love me for the rest of her life."

The Mother's face fell, how sad it was to see one of her favorites fall into such despair for so long.

"She would never think loving you as being a punishment, you know that, Azriel." The Mother looks at him compassion written across her features.

"That's the problem. She deserves someone whose soul isn't as marred as mine. Someone whose heart is whole and isn't plagued by all the horrors they have committed. Someone who's hands aren't stained with blood."

Azriel begins to feel the start of a downward spiral, he has been good at keeping them at bay, but this whole situation has been very stressful for him.

The Mother refuses to let him fall into that dark place, sternlys he tells him, "Who are you to say who she should choose? I made you two mates and I don't even have a final say. Do you think she would appreciate you taking that choice away from her?"

Azriel feels like he is being scolded by his mother. Well she is the Mother. It wasn't fair to you for him to be making this decision, he couldn't deprive you of a mate just because he couldn't handle himself.

The white walls then flickered and then slightly dimmed, their pristine angelic white fading into a duller cream; the magic screamed against the walls in strain.

"We don't have much time Azriel." The Mother looked at Fate, alarmed, and he gave her a calming nod.

Azriel couldn't avoid the terrifying question any longer, the one that had been cowering on his tongue in fear of an answer.

"Am I dead?" The bond is a dim light, slowly dimming out in his chest. It is the the closest thing to feeling that his body is capable of.

Fate and the Mother immediately shake their heads no.

"Not yet, but the in-between is so unstable and neither of the doors have opened yet so…" Fate says, trying to keep the mood cheery even when talking about such grim matters.

Azriel scans the room again, actually being able to take it in now that he is no longer in the state of panic he was when he first arrived to this strange place.

The room had no doors and no windows, but there was magic emanating from every surface. A magic so powerful and ancient that he was no longer sure that this room was actually a room, but rather a physical manifestation of something so complex that it had to be condensed down to this box so his fae-mind could wrap itself around it.

The Mother and Fate probably took these forms to be more approachable because whatever form they usually took would just be too much; he was already in distress that would only tip him over the edge of insanity.

The Mother looked at Azriel and he saw the wisdom in her eyes. She was a deity as old as time itself and right now it showed.

"Azriel I'm going to send you back." Fate whipped his head around at her.

"Are you sane? Do you know what this could cause-" She cut him off with a warning look.

"A price will be paid, but we can't even get to that point if there is no Prythian left.'

The Mother stood, and Azriel swore he could hear time hold her breath in anticipation.

"We are not meant to meddle in the affairs of your kind, but the dark magic that sent you here threatens to destroy everything, even us if left unchecked. You and your mate need to vanquish it Azriel.'

It was not a request; it was an order that Azriel could not deny from the two weavers of his fate.

Azriel had nearly died tracking and fighting he didn't even know what. His memory was hazy, he just remembered a flash of black and then an onslaught of pain greater than anything he had ever known and a darkness so cold it had almost dragged him under it's waves.

"How can I vanquish it when I know nothing about this enemy?" Azriel asked the two exasperatedly. It had already killed him once how was he going to kill this unknown enemy so powerful it even threatens the Mother?

The Mother tried to speak, but it seemed as if she was struggling to get the words out.

The walls flared out, now a lowly dim gray fighting for their lives to stay intact and illuminated.

Azriel had heard about ancient cursed beings, so deplorable that their very names were cursed. If spoken nothing comes out and if you attempt to write anything the letters come out as nothing more than mere scribbles.

"I can't tell you much, I am already not supposed to be involved and I am not sure if this will be a permanent solution Azriel. I may see you hear sooner than we hope."

Azriel's stomach drops. He has had brushes with death before, but to have it looming so close was another thing entirely.

Azriel was nothing if not loyal and valiant, his actions may suggest otherwise at times but he considers himself to be noble. If his life was the price to pay for Prythian's, and most importantly your safety, he would pay it in a heart beat.

He looks to the Mother and nods. "I will do it. It will be my personal mission to make sure this evil is wiped from the lands."

He bows his head, in both respect and as a sign of duty. This is his mission now and he would complete it whatever it took.

Before the Mother could say anything Fate barges into the conversation, like he always does as Fate is not fond of planning.

"For such bravery, we would like to reward you with-"

The Mother rolls her eyes. "Reward him with?"

He continues going, obviously very used to this dynamic. Azriel was slightly amused even if he didn't show it.

"3 questions. You may ask us anything your heart truly desires, but you must choose wisely."

The Mother gives him a look, the one that says I know what you're trying to do, and while it's not exactly evil, it is mischievous in nature.

"You're giving him the gift of life, let me give him the gift of knowledge. I can't let you take all the credit now?" Who knew Fate could be this way.

Azriel began to ponder, he could ask anything. The story of the cosmos were at his beck and call all he needed to do was ask.

Fate immediately started backtracking. "The thing with knowledge is that it's from things we already know so you can't ask me about the future or anything large such as what is the truth of the universe. Stick to what you know and those around you."

Some things were better off not being known anyway. If he was going to die soon all Azriel wanted was to know where your affections lie and he immediately knew what his first question was going to be.

"My mate, we've had uhh a rocky start to say the least..." He could see the laugh that Fate was holding in. It is pretty hard to hide things from all knowing gods.

"Has the mating bond snapped for her?" He needed to know. The question that has been plaguing his mind for weeks now.

The Mother nods yet and Azriel's heart sinks. So you knew he was your mate this entire time and you hadn't said anything.

The Mother said nothing, but Fate was a talker and did he love to do so and stir things up in the process.

"Let's just say that it was a Solstice present gone wrong."

Everything clicks into place. Your sudden departure, the way you had been distant and cold to him only. The way his family had been treating him.

You saw him with Elain.

His mate had watched him almost kiss another and then the bond snapped.

Azriel's progress is hanging by a single thread at this knowledge. You had gone through that and it was Azriel who had put you through that.

If you had left him for Eris at this point, he wouldn't even blame you. Eris was the one who had tried to help you fix what Azriel had destroyed and while he was miserable in your absence he couldn't imagine the pain of seeing your mate with another and having the mating bond loom over you like that.

He had to know you didn't hate him. With that came his next question.

"Does she love me?"

Fate perked up at this question. His provoking and prodding of the shadowsinger had finally got him to the conclusion he wanted.

"She thinks of you dearly. There are many forms of love, and sometimes, you don't even know where a person falls anymore; the lines blur, become marred, and get redrawn over and over again."

The Mother, tired of Fate's carefully cryptic wording, decides now is the time for her to interject. Azriel had been tormented enough for her liking.

"You already know the answer to that question Azriel as you have the same answer."

Leave it to the Mother to be the assurance he needs.

He takes a deep breath. "For how long?"

He had to know, did all this come up with the mating bond, or is this deeper for you? He didn't want you feeling this way only because of this bond that connects you two.

With him, you would be in danger for the rest of your life. You would know no peace and he had to make sure you were sure before he decides to fight to have you with him.

For if the better choice for your safety is him walking away, he would lay his swords down and exile himself to the continent, the depths of the Illyrian mountains, just anywhere the dangers that chased him couldn't find you.

"Same as you, my dear child."

Flashes of memories of the start of the war invade his mind. Your father, the old high lord, and his cruelty. He feared how headstrong you were becoming and had actually allowed some of Devlon's men at camp to steal you in the night and clip your wings.

The way his shadows had screamed in terror and panic, telling him what was to be done to you. He remembered being blinded with an icy rage, flying to you guided by nothing but pure instinct and when he saw one of the men holding your unconscious form down while holding a blade to you all logic had been thrown out the window all he knew was violence and rage and he did not stop until all the men were slaughtered and you were home safe in the cabin.

He left you with your horrified Mother and sister. Rhys was off helping with war planning, but he remembers the way he barged into the door, the pure fear written on his face.

His shadows had whispered something to him about the high lord's involvement and he flew for him at once. He didn't know what he was expecting getting into a fight with a high lord, but it had ended with him being overpowered by the high lord's daemati ability.

He told Azriel that he would have killed him, if he weren't so powerful. He offered Azriel a deal, his undying servitude to him in exchange for your guaranteed safety. You would be able to live out your days as you pleased, no unwanted marriages or wing clippings forced upon you, at the price of Azriel's life.

He would be sentenced to do the high lord's dirty work, essentially bartering away his freedom, his soul. His very soul, why would the Mother take him after he becomes corrupted by death and pain and all that is bad in the world.

But he decided it was worth it. While death would offer him respite from this life, he would rather live in agony for all of eternity than suffer again the way you just had so he took the deal.

You were so upset with him when you found out. You cried, you screamed, you knew what had become of his fate and you didn't want this for your shadowsinger.

The way you had believed in him and fought for him when no one else had.

He should have known it had always been you. The signs have always been there, it seems like you were both too busy hindering yourselves to see it.

The bond might have well as snapped for him that night when he went off to war and you had made him promse to come back.

For the first time, Azriel could see the full picture. The bond was not something sudden that had been forced upon you guys, but something that had been there for centuries, that is only now announcing itself out of desperation.

The vow he had made to you was more precious than any mating bond and he knew that he would fight to be with you in this life and the next if you will have him.

He gives the Mother and Fate a nod. "I'm ready now. Thank you for everything, but I would love to go home now."

Determination fills him and he is eager to get back. Eager to see you and begin the journey to your future however short lived and futile it may be.

"Very well. May the rest of your life provide you with everything you are looking for and more." She gives him a smile that is as warm and comforting as a roaring fireplace in the dead of winter.

Fate even gives him one of his signature grins, "While it was so lovely meeting you I do hope it's a long while until we do see each other again."

Before Azriel says anything the room shatters and everything goes black like the room was a glass box that was suddenly dropped on the ground.

He looks around. The only source of light was the faint golden light of the bond. He tugged on it with all his might and on the other side he had felt you.

Felt your worry and fear and he sent a wave of reassurance down the bond and followed it back to where he knew you would be.

-

Smoke assaults your senses, eyes watering and throat burning. The darkness was rapidly spreading in Azriel's chest and you guys couldn't let it reach his heart.

His shadows were going haywire, frantically flitting around their Master's unconscious frame.

As far as Azriel's current state, his heartbeat was faint but present and ever so slowly fading. The bond in your chest was pulling against you with a tug stronger than you had ever felt.

It felt as if the bond was a rubber band that had been pulled so tight that it was borderline fraying and if one side is let go the impact on the other would be a pain unlike any other.

You don't know where he was for the bond to feel so taut, but you hoped it wasn't a signal of his soul slipping away wherever the Mother wants it.

You hoped the Mother was being kind to him wherever he was.

Eris continues to burn away the darkness in Azriel's chest, his presence here a last resort. None of the tonics that you had been tinkering with had worked, and even Madja's healing magic yielded no results.

The next best thing you guys could do is burn it out of him to get it out of his vital organs and then you could heal him properly.

It was your idea to call Eris, you believe he is the most powerful fire wielder in all of Prythian and for this you needed utmost precision anything goes slightly wrong and it could be the end of the shadowsinger.

Eris was not Azriel's biggest fan, but even he knows that the shadowsinger did not deserve to die like this.

He identified the darkness by the way it screamed against his magic and targeted it. The darkness was almost sentient, wailing and crying against the flames, pushing back with a blue flame of their own.

You were knelt over Azriel, holding his hand as if it would offer some sort of comfort while his chest was being burned on both sides.

You were getting lightheaded from the amount of smoke you were inhaling, but you didn't care. You just couldn't bring yourself to leave Azriel, terrified that if you looked away for even a moment the shadowsinger would take his last breath.

Madja broke you out of your thoughts by handing you an empty vial. She told you to take a sample of the darkness, so you could study whatever this evil being is.

You got the sample and then almost dropped the vial out of shock. Rhys came down to grab it out of your hand and put a hand on your shoulder.

You felt a yank on the bond. Azriel knew you were his mate and he was fighting. Fighting death to come back to you.

This time tears welled up in your eyes for a completely different reason.

The shadows begin to frantically swirl Azriel and drag Eris back from their Master.

"Wait im not-" Eris is interrupted.

The shadowsingers eyes shoot open.

His shadows frantically swarm around him, some of them seperating to hold back every other person in the room other than you. If anything, his shadows pushed you closer.

His skin was beginning to knit together, his magic slowly coming back to him allowing to heal the wounds left by the black substance and Eris' fire.

His eyes are wide in alarm and they frantically dart around the room until they settle on you.

Azriel's hand grips yours so tightly you could see the strain in his knuckles, and he takes rapid short breaths.

"The Mother. Fate."

He must be out of it, considering his close brush with death since his words don't make any sense.

His free hand moves to your face and the next thing you know he's caressing your cheek.

"My mate."

Oh gods. It was like the air was sucked out the room silence overtaking the room.

His eyes fluttered shut and his hand fell to the ground, but this time his breathing was even and his heartbeat was steady.

He must have passed out from the exhaustion but he would be okay. Relief floods you and is then suddenly disrupted by the realisation that he knows your his mate.

You know you should be worrying about what is going to happen when he wakes up. But for now you can't bring yourself to care only focusing on the fact that he is alive and with you.

You look up at the Mother and thank her for bringing him back to you, and you swear you can feel her giving you a smile in return.

-

Somewhere in Prythian, that has been long forgotten by the Fae, a shadowed figure curses the Mother for thwarting his plans. He spent weeks trying to get rid of the shadowsinger and had felt him slipping away before he was suddenly pulled back.

Wretched mates.

His kind didn't have mates, they believed that you could only be your strongest when there is nothing in your path. Distractions can be fatal and what is a mate if not a distraction? Why should anything living be able to hinder your abilities or life force?

He shuddered.

Abhorred by such juvenile thoughts and feelings. The Mother and Fate are two domineering entities and they choose to work together side by side for what? Peace?

They could be the rulers of this realm and much more if they only put down the chessboard and focused on what's important.

Power.

Pure power. Everything good came with power - reverence, fear, and acclaim.

For the most talked about battles were always the bloodiest and the more revered warriors were always the most brutal.

He supposed he and Azriel had that much in common—well, until he watched the shadowsinger put his life at risk to save his mate's.

How pathetic.

Azriel may think he's free, but even burning him out doesn't stop the mark that's left there by such dark magic.

A sinister smile spreads across the shadowed face of this being and Prythian shudders. The shadow's recoil and the winds howl in fear.

Something was coming, and Prythian wouldn't know it until it was begging for Mercy.

-

note: Hello my loves long time no see but this is my longest chapter yet to make up for it. This chapter is pretty self indulgent, my two worlds crossing in to each other is very interesting to say the least! Things are happening so please try to stay with me I may be venturing into other spheres of writing so this story may be slowing down but nothing for certain yet. We love Azriel growing and finally being able to look at himself and realise who he is and what he has done nothing brings out romance more than the looming threat of death but anyways I loved the fate and az interactions and i cant wait for everyone to think az is insane when he tells them who he met. Like always until next time my darlings!

note note: I can feel my crimes against spelling and grammar as always this is unedited bc if i did edit this chapter would never be out!

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[lamb-teaa]

The day he was reborn, he devoted his entire life to finding her.

That's all Sylus cared, to be reunited with his beloved, the other half of his soul, his queen through life and death.

And when he finally found her, he vowed he would never let her go, even if she had no collection of him, even if she rejected and feared him at their supposed reunion, even if it might take him another decades for her to open her heart to him again for they are eternally bonded, defying the tragic fate that had once befall their unfortunate life.

They were meant to be and Sylus was more than willing to wait for her to return to him once more.

He had endured centuries chained to the abyss in his previous life, how would this be any difficult?

He just needed time. As much as she needs, he's willing to wait, until she's back into his arms just like before.

That was all he cared about, all he hoped for, all he wanted.

Until Sylus met you.

Was the universe out to get him? What sort of sick joke was this? The moment he locked eyes with you, standing behind the counter of the quaint flower shop, the familiar glint in your eyes sent a strong wave of déjà vu throughout him.

At first he simply mistook you as her lookalike, a doppelganger. Yeah, just someone who looked unnervingly identical to her, that has to be it, so there's no way-

"Long time no see, Sylus."

A familiar voice too - right then and there he felt like he had been sucker punched straight to the stomach, his heart beat spiked up uncontrollably, his sight fixated on yours as he remembered those familiar gaze in your eyes.

The familiar greed, the familiar desire, the familiar vengeance - so you remembered, but she didn't, but how-

How could there be two of her?

Sylus's head spun with disbelief and confusion, he couldn't bring himself to utter a single word out as he stood shell shocked in front of you. He had randomly chosen this flower shop to buy flowers for his hunter lady after his usual dealings outside of the N109 Zone, but this unexpected encounter with you just threw him extremely off guard.

Especially by how calm and composed you look, as if you hadn't just dropped the bomb of remembering your previous life together with him.

Yet the familiar fierceness in your eyes still remains, despite the ever calmness you exude around you.

And Sylus didn't know how he felt about it, about you - Ecstatic? Bewildered? Relieved? Scared?

What should he do? What is he supposed to do?

The soft hum of your voice snapped him out of his muddled thoughts, his entire body stiffened when you leaned forward, tilting your head up at him with a teasing yet mocking look - another familiar gesture that made his heart swell with longing.

"Seems like you've been faring human life quite well.."

Your voice, steady yet lighthearted trailed off purposely, just as he remembered all those lifetime ago and for a moment, Sylus felt like he was brought back to their past. Memories of the bittersweet banter and playful jabs flooded his mind, overwhelming his senses, and his heart screamed for him to pull you into his embrace, demanding where you've been all this time, why you felt so familiar but at the same time you don't and how does any of this makes sense-

But his reverie was shattered by your next words.

"..Especially having other me by your side."

—⁠ teaa's end note: i call this Split AU. another unpolished fic plot idk if I'll ever gonna write so it'll remain vague ooft (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

[httpuckdrop]

boyfriend? (part 2) – ws2

will doesn't only dislike other guys flirting with you – he gets jealous when they as much as ask about you, aswell.

pairing: will smith x friend!reader

genre: fluff, college!au

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none

requested: yes!! requests are always open <3

author's note: had so much fun writing this aaaa hope you enjoy reading it!! can be read as a stand-alone fic but it's better if you read part one first. have a lovely day 💗

read part one here!

will is going through a very uncanny type of déjà vu.

it wasn't more than two weeks ago that he was in this exact position; standing in the corner of someone's living room, a red solo cup in his hands, eyes stuck on you as you wander around, making friends with pretty much everyone. to be fair, your open nature and friendly soul are some of the things he likes the most about you – along with the fact that you make whoever you're talking to feel like they're the funniest and smartest and sweetest person you've ever met – but it's far better when he's the one you give all your attention to.

will doesn't mind not being the busiest bee at the party. he's okay with just staring at you from afar, occasionally indulging in a drinking challenge or a video game. but he can sense that something is about to shift even before it does – and suddenly, he realizes why. the guy you'd been chatting to up until now has just been replaced, and not just by anyone.

charlie is one of the defensemen on the eagles, a year ahead of will, a few inches taller and a few pounds stronger. they're not the closest of friends, but being teammates assures a certain type of bond, which might be why charlie came to will that time after practice last week.

"smitty, you know that friend of yours?" charlie had asked after arriving in the locker room. "the flirty, chatty one with the cute smile?"

will had known that he meant you instantly. he nodded, continuing to unlace his skates without even throwing his friend a glance.

"she's really hot. is she taken or can i...?" charlie asked, playfully bumping his shoulder with the younger's.

will took a deep breath, pulling his skates off his feet and placing them in his stall. "nah, she's interested in some dude in one of her classes." it wasn't true, so he didn't even know why he said it. but one little white lie couldn't hurt, right?

"really?" charlie frowned.

"yeah, sorry dude." will finally turned to the teammate. "she won't stop talking about him, they're pretty much a couple by now." and with that, the older just shook his head, stomping off with a mumble about how this was just his luck.

so now, seeing charlie next to you, will's eyes following the way he rests his hand on the small of your back as you lean in to talk to him... it definitely makes will feel a little nauseous. the one thing he hates more than seeing you get hit on is seeing you get hit on by someone who shouldn't be hitting on you.

an image flashes through his mind; you, sitting in the crowded grandstands as he's skating around on the ice, with an eagles jersey thrown over your body – but with charlie's surname on your back. and then, when the team goes out to celebrate after the big win, he's got you on his arm, leaning in to whisper in your ear and-

the idea is so oddly repulsing that will finds himself moving along to the kitchen to grab himself a new drink.

even when occupying himself with talking to gabe and ryan, he isn't able to completely shut you out of his mind. the friends, knowing will far too well after many years together, can easily tell that something is bothering him – assuming that it's girl problems, and assuming that girl is you – and feel a need to do something about it. they're just about to pull him out to the backyard when suddenly, a hand lands on his arm.

"can i steal him away for a second, boys?" you ask ryan and gabe with a smile before tilting your head up to will.

"he's all yours," ryan answers, chuckling as you drag will away.

he has no idea what your plan is, but he happily obliges – he will always follow along if you're the one leading him. once you reach the empty hallway leading toward the bathroom, you stop and release the grip you have on his arm. "so..." you slant your head, blinking up at him. "why did you tell charlie that i have a boyfriend?"

will's breath hitches in his throat. "i didn't. did he say i did?"

"maybe not in exactly those words," you counter, crossing your arms over your chest. "but something along the lines. did he lie?"

will doesn't answer. he doesn't know how to get out of this scot-free. he hates lying to you – not that he's sure if he's ever even been able to – so instead, he settles for remaining quiet.

"is it because you like me, smitty?"

he has to actively stop his jaw from dropping. the way the words just dropped from your mouth so casually, like they weren't flipping his world upside down, makes him speechless.

with him just staring at you, you place a hand on his shoulder, stepping the slightest bit closer. "if you do, then you should tell me," you hum, the alcohol in your system giving you that last bit of confidence you need. "and if you don't, then i'll just go away and we can pretend-"

but will doesn't want you to walk away. he doesn't want to keep pretending like he isn't in love with you, like he doesn't want you in his arms and in his room and your hands in his. he's got tunnel vision by now, and the only option he sees is grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against him. so that's exactly what he does.

you don't know who leans in first – it's probably the same gravitational pull affecting both of you – but it feels like this moment is exactly what you were made for. when your lips meet, will suddenly feels a ton lighter, all and any previous doubts and insecurities gone in a flash. your hand finds his chest, feeling his fluttering heartbeat beneath his shirt, and you can't help but smile against him.

"finally," you whisper once you part, but a confused frown stretches across will's features. you shake your head. "two weeks ago, you didn't want to kiss me."

"that's not true," he replied, watching you cock an eyebrow at him. "of course i wanted to. but i wasn't actually your boyfriend, but…"

"but now?"

will snickers, hands giving your sides a gentle squeeze. "now, i'd like to think that things have changed."

[ckret2]

Chapter 90 of human Bill Cipher and the Mystery Shack having entered an uneasy alliance against their shared enemy: the government. Agent Powers begins to suspect his date "Goldie" is hiding something; but it's impossible to tell who to trust when the rest of the town is hiding something too.

Boy is the town ever hiding something.

A lot of somethings, as it turns out.

(There's a code in this chapter! If you're not an eager code-cracker, don't stress about figuring it out, the solution's given later in the chapter. If you are an eager code-cracker, you oughta solve it first before you read the rest of the chapter.)

####

Powers usually woke up before his alarm; but today, the alarm dragged him out of a dream to blink blearily at the thin predawn glow filtering through the thin motel curtain. He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about. Something about triangles that glowed like the rising dawn.

The bed seemed bigger than it had the night before. Colder. He was suddenly acutely aware of how lonely his life was.

The motel room didn't have a coffeemaker or microwave. He remembered being frustrated by that oddity in another local motel last summer. Strange how he could remember details like that, but so little else about last summer's investigation. He'd get something at the police department.

He cleaned up, dressed, put his case file in his briefcase, and headed out.

####

"You're an early riser, Agent Powers," Sheriff Blubs observed. "Still on Washington time?"

"Washington is in the same time zone as Oregon," Powers said. "I rise with the sun. Keeps my circadian rhythm regular, keeps me sharp on the job."

"I meant..." Blubs petered out, shrugged, and sipped his coffee.

The police department's coffee was bad, but got the job done. The food on hand appeared to be slightly stale bagels and very fresh donuts. Powers would have to get a proper breakfast later.

"Find what you were looking for at the Mystery Shack?" Blubs asked.

"No," Powers sighed. But, admittedly, he'd been distracted. "But we're not done there yet. We're expecting more specialized equipment from HQ."

Blubs nodded. "Always something going on there," he muttered. "Think you'll arrest Stan Pines again?"

"Hm. According to Mr. Ramirez, he's out of town."

"Huh! Is he?"

"Allegedly. Traveling the world with..." He trailed off, fully registering what Blubs had said. "Sorry—'again'?"

"Like when you brought him in to interrogate last year?" Blubs said. "I assumed nothing came of it, since you let him go without any charges."

He had no recollection of arresting Stan Pines last year. He had no recollection of arresting anyone. He didn't even have the authority to make arrests unless he had reasonable grounds to suspect someone had committed a federal felony. And yet, something about the claim itched at the edge of his brain, like trying to remember what had triggered a case of déjà vu.

The sheriff and his deputy had been Powers's liaison with local law enforcement last summer. They'd been friendly and helpful through the whole investigation. If anybody might know what had happened and be willing to help...

He turned to Blubs. "Sheriff Blubs, did anything that you might call... unusual happen last summer?"

Suddenly Blubs couldn't meet Powers's gaze. "Well uh—never mind all that." (Déjà vu prickled at the back of Powers's mind again. Hadn't Blubs said something like that a few days ago?) Blubs took a deep sip of his coffee. "Say, do you like those donuts? Durland makes 'em!"

"Does he."

"Best donuts in Gravity Falls, if you ask me! I'm trying to watch my weight, but, hoo. Just can't resist his donuts."

Powers almost tried to push Blubs back toward his original question, but...

Have you asked anyone if anything weird happened here last summer? Try it. They act like they didn't even hear you. It's strange.

... maybe not.

####

A steady beeping interrupted Dale's sleep. He slapped his alarm clock, hit something flat and glassy instead, and opened his eyes to see what it was. He was in the car with Trigger, who was also asleep; had they both nodded off?

Last night's memories came rushing back. The old lady. They must have fallen asleep because of the coffee!

She must have used decaf.

Dale blinked at his tablet to see why it was beeping.

"Oh!" He swatted Trigger's shoulder. "Trigger!"

"Mrgh?"

"I've got the missing flash drive's signal again!"

"What?" Trigger sat bolt upright. "Where is it?"

"It's..." Dale frowned. "Ten feet in front of us?"

They looked out the windshield.

A goat, chewing a branchful of leaves, stared at them.

They exchanged a look, then scrambled out of the car. Trigger shouted, "Hey!"

The goat startled and galloped for the woods.

"Stop! Halt! Come back here!" Trigger ran after it.

Dale started to follow, turned around and jogged back to the car, retrieved his keys and phone, locked the car, and then sprinted to catch up.

####

Powers's phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered, "Hello?"

"Hey!" Dale's voice sounded breathless. "We'll be in a bit late! We're in hot pursuit of the flash drive!"

"Excellent," Powers said. "'In hot pursuit'?"

"I think a goat ate it!"

Faintly over the phone, Trigger's voice said, "Which way'd it go?"

"Uh... left, go left!"  To Powers, Dale said, "By the way—thought you should know, we saw Goldie come to the Mystery Shack around one in the morning last night."

Powers's stomach flipped. That was after he'd dropped her off. "What? Why?"

"Don't know. Just thought you'd want to hear."

Baffled, he said, "Thank you. Keep me updated," and ended the call.

"Hey there, lover boy!" Durland elbowed Powers, startling him. He waggling his eyebrows. "Lazy Susan says yooou had a little date last night!"

Powers felt the back of his neck heat up. Gossip traveled fast in a small town. "Er—yes." Not very professional of him, but. "Someone I met in town a couple of days ago named Goldie." (What had she been doing at the Mystery Shack so late?)

"Oh, Goldie!" Blubs said. "Well! He's just a delight."

Powers gave him a quizzical look. He? "We... might be thinking of different Goldies."

Durland said, "Short brown gal? Big yellow hair and a gold tooth?"

A memory from dinner flashed through his mind's eye: a loose golden curl that had come loose and dangled softly in front of her eye; her gold tooth peeking out as she smirked like she knew something no one else did. His stomach flipped. "I... yes, that's her."

"Yeah, we know 'er! We're in the club for—"

"We're in a social club," Blubs cut in. "H—shhe's been looking to get out and meet new folks, I'm glad she ran into you."

A club? Why would a tourist join a club in town? "Is she... local? I was given to understand... well, I suppose I assumed she was a tourist." She'd talked like an outsider. Like it was her and Powers against the rest of this strange town. But then, she'd also talked like she knew this town well.

"Oh, she's an out of towner, but she's staying over at the Mystery Shack for a while. Old colleague of Stanford's, I think," Durland said. He looked at Blubs. "How long is she staying, did she say? Was it for the summer?"

"Could be. I don't think she's mentioned," Blubs said. "That place really fills up in the summertime."

Why hadn't she said anything? 

If she was Stan's colleague, why hadn't he turned her up during their investigation into Stanford Pines's background? (Why had he investigated Stan Pines? He tried to remember.)

Why had she had him drop her off somewhere else, so far from the shack?

What was she hiding?

When Blubs stepped out of the room, Powers turned to Durland and said, voice low, "I need to ask you something. It's important."

"Sure! What is it?"

"Has there been anything... odd happening in town?" he asked. "Possibly paranormal in nature? Maybe involving the Mystery Shack?"

Durland's face immediately closed off. "Oh! Ohhh. Uh—never mind all that. Hey, Bluuubs?" He hurried from the room. "Do you need some, uh—help with the paperwork?"

Powers's eyes narrowed.

He flipped open his case file to skim while he waited for an update from his men—and a jolt shot up his back. There were only three pages in the folder. Where was the rest of it? He checked his briefcase, then rushed outside to check his car. He'd let Goldie read the file; had she...? No. He didn't want to think so.

He drove back to the hotel.

####

As soon as he unlocked the door, he saw a disheveled pile of papers lying on the dresser. He sighed in relief. They must have slid out of his file before he put it in his briefcase. He'd been distracted that morning. Careless of him. (He always seemed to be strangely careless in this town.) He put the papers back where they belonged, shut his briefcase again, and turned toward the door.

There was a rumpled paper on the floor with bright red writing on it.

He picked it up. A short message had been written with a thick marker, the large letters filling the page: "STOP DIGGING UNLESS YOU WANT TO LOSE ANOTHER AGENT."

Another agent?

Powers called Dale, tapping his foot anxiously until he picked up. "Dale! Are you alright?"

"As... as well as I can be, sir." He was breathing heavily. "A little winded. That goat's nimble—"

"What about Trigger? Is he still there?"

"Uh...? Yeah, he's nearby."

"Are you sure?" Powers demanded. "100% sure?"

"H... hold on." A few seconds of panting, and then he said, "Yessir, right here. I've got him by the hand." (Powers heard Trigger quietly ask, "What are we?")

"Good. Have either of you seen anything suspicious, anything at all?"

Trigger leaned closer to the phone to say, "I believe I saw a gnome, sir."

"I didn't see it," Dale added.

"He had a pointy red hat," Trigger reported gravely. "I could have punted him."

Didn't sound like something capable of vanishing a federal agent. "Very well. Watch each other's backs closely," Powers said. "And let me know if anything happens."

Dale said, "You got it, sir."

He hung up and studied the message again. He flipped it over; on the other side of the paper was a flier, prominently headed "Gravity Falls MUSEUM," with a calendar of activities from May. (Apparently, on Wednesdays children could try "gravel panning.") Somebody had scrawled a message on the paper in pen:

TYQ FOP

DYEIGNQL LS FAOE LLY BZYMQUFUW LYVQ DIGQ VQRIJI SAG AG LIYQ

OFWYQ KIM RYJF QWIE

Gibberish. And nobody in his team knew how to crack ciphers...

But he knew somebody in town who did.

He hesitated for just a moment; then dialed the number Goldie had given him last night.

####

Just around the corner of the motel, Stan was pressed to the wall, catching his breath. That had been a close call. He'd arrived at the motel after Agent Powers had left for the morning, picked the door lock, returned the highly classified documents Bill had pilfered, and dropped in the threatening letter Mabel had written; but he'd only barely gotten back out before Powers pulled into the parking lot. He hadn't expected Powers to return nearly so soon. (He half wondered if Bill had planned it that way. He seemed like the kind of con artist who would work throwing a partner-in-crime under the bus into his plan.)

He tiptoed past Powers's door, then ran down the block for his car.

####

Bill was dragged from sleep by the feeling of his burner phone buzzing under the couch cushion. Not already. He'd barely gotten to sleep. He'd only just started his second REM cycle. He groaned, yawned, picked it up, and tried to sound perkier than he felt. "Yello?" He stifled another yawn. "What? No, no, I'm up. Been awake for hours. 

It was the call he'd been expecting. He sat up, suddenly much more awake, grinning broadly. Right into his trap. So far so good. He stretched, only half listening while Powers explained the situation. "A cipher? Yeah, sure, no problem." He grabbed a skirt and tank top, "If it's that urgent, I think I can clear my schedule! Meet you at Greasy's?"

He stuffed foundation and mascara into his umbrella, thumped down the stairs—nearly tripped in his haste—and thudded on Soos's door as he passed. "It's showtime!"

####

When Powers arrived, Goldie was already outside the diner, leaning by the door. (Had she come from the Mystery Shack?) As soon as he was out of his car, she called, "Hey, Bermuda! Making me wait for you?"

"I got here as soon as I could."

She was less made up than last night, and he realized with a sudden burst of warmth that yesterday she must have gotten gussied up for him.

His attention caught on one of her earrings as it reflected the sun into his eyes. Odd; she was wearing the same aqua green triangular earrings she'd worn yesterday—one had a gold star on it—but he hadn't noticed there was a bright gold eye painted on the other triangle. Surely he'd just missed it, though; why would it have gained an eye between last night and today?

Now that he'd noticed it, it was a reassuring sight. He saw that symbol everywhere back in Washington: over opera houses, on the gates of graveyards—even on the ceiling of the Bureau of Covert Investigations' lobby, surrounded by rays of brassy gold. When the BCI first formed, the All-Seeing Eye had been part of its logo—before the Department of Cover-Ups had hastily passed down an order to change it to their current eagle-and-magnifying-glass logo, and then covered up the order. But it hadn't been worth it to renovate the old art deco building's decor, and the Eye of God still benevolently watched over the agents.

As Powers opened the door for Goldie, he asked, "Did you call me 'Bermuda'?"

"I'm dropping a hint! I think you'd look nice in Bermuda shorts."

"O-oh."

She flashed him a brilliant smile as she swept past. "When's the last time you took a vacation, anyway? The beach in town's a lot nicer without a suit on."

In spite of everything he'd heard this morning—it was a relief to see Goldie again.

He could ask about the shack later.

Every booth and half the counter were filled up; they were seated at the end of the counter. Powers sat between Goldie and the crowd, trying as much as he could to shield their conversation from eavesdroppers. "Busier at breakfast than dinner."

"Oh, yeah, Greasy's is the hottest coffee spot in town."

"Is it that good?"

"Dunno. I prefer tea," Goldie said. "It's got more to do with the celebrity endorsement than the coffee itself. Fiddleford McGucket used to hang out here, chain drinking coffee pots. Now everyone wants to get coffee where the great inventor McGucket used to—but now that he's made it big, he doesn't come here himself anymore." She scoffed. "Doesn't that figure!"

"Ah, yes. McGucket." He'd been surprised to see that name in the news. "When I was in town last year, I heard a great deal about a local homeless man who squatted in the junkyard—an 'Old Man' McGucket. A relation of Fiddleford, or...?"

"That's the same guy."

"Huh. The man the locals described didn't sound like a genius inventor."

"He wasn't. A year ago, as far as anybody in town knew, he was just the village idiot." Goldie shrugged. "And all the sudden, the Northwests lose all their money in some kind of fraud deal nobody can make sense of, and now he's living in Northwest Manor!" She let out a disbelieving huff, and Powers was sure he detected skepticism in the cock of her brow. "I guess you can never tell, can you?"

He studied Goldie's face—so beautiful, so intelligent, smiling at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world. Hiding just how close she was to this town. Pretending she had nothing to do with the Mystery Shack. "I suppose you can't."

Once they'd ordered breakfast, Powers showed Goldie the threatening letter and the note on it. She studied the code critically. "It's not a simple substitution cipher," she muttered. "It can't be anything complex, not if they're just scrawling it on a museum handout and throwing it away like trash. Maybe Vigenère—you need to know a code word for that one. Either they have a standard code word we'll never guess; or, they made it something simple that the recipient would know to look for... Got a pencil?"

Powers fished around in his briefcase for a pencil and handed it over. Goldie pointed at the flier's heading—"Gravity Falls MUSEUM"—underlined the word "MUSEUM," which was larger than anything else on the page, and muttered, "Worth a shot." She drew a complicated grid lettered A to Z along the top and left sides, crossed with vertical lines and horizontal lines and diagonal lines, then wrote the word MUSEUM over and over above each letter in the encrypted text—MUS EUM MUSEUMMU... She tried to explain how the cipher worked as she set up her grid. It flew over Powers's head.

"Now let's hope I grabbed the right word." She started out needing to trace the grid to find each letter, but the farther she got in the message the less often she had to look at it, until she'd translated the whole thing:

HEY BUD

REMEMBER TO LOCK THE PNEUMATIC TUBE ROOM BEFORE YOU GO HOME

UNSEE YOU NEXT WEEK

She pushed the paper over to Powers—"It's not a lot to go on."—and dug into the omelet that had arrived while she was translating. "What does 'unsee' mean?"

"I have no idea." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It looks like somebody wrote on a scrap paper they had on hand."

"That's not much help," Goldie lamented. "Anybody who's visited the museum since May could've grabbed this calendar—and whoever grabbed it first wrote a note on it and passed it to somebody else. Anyone could have sent this to you." She gestured at the paper. "Maybe you guys can dust it for prints?"

"That takes longer than most people think. And we've both touched it now."

He reread the message. Pneumatic tube room...

Slowly, he said, "I think the museum has pneumatic tubes. I remember seeing them last year."

"Did you?" Goldie's brows shot up. "Huh. Isn't that convenient."

"It is." There couldn't be many other places in town with pneumatic tubes. Maybe the post office, but he doubted it. "This may have been written from one museum employee to another. That would narrow down the suspects..."

"Mind if I come along?" Goldie asked.

Powers gave her a puzzled look. "To?"

"The museum! I don't think I've ever been to the museum! You've got to investigate it, right?" She grinned crookedly. "You know how much I love to see you at work."

Powers tried to ignore the flush creeping up his neck. "I can't allow that. If whoever sent this threat is there, this could be dangerous. I don't want you in harm's way."

The cheeky grin slid off her face. Seriously, she said, "Then that's exactly why you need me. You don't expect me to let you walk in there without any backup, do you?"

She had a point. If Dale hadn't called him yet, he and Trigger were still pursuing the goat. He wasn't sure he could trust the police here.

He wasn't sure he could trust Goldie, either.

But she was willing to admit there was something strange in this town when nobody else was. He wanted to trust her.

And she was right. He did need backup. "Okay; but I want you to stay near the exit." He took out his phone and texted Dale's number to Goldie. "And if anything happens—get help."

####

Goldie promised to stay upstairs, looking at the exhibits; and Powers followed the pneumatic tubes to a staircase, down into the basement...

...and through an immense wooden double door, flanked by lit braziers and framed in an arch of stones, which had a carving depicting two hands cradling an eye that had been X'ed out with blood red spray paint.

Which was a weird thing to find under the museum in a town with barely 5,000 people.

He'd heard rumors about a secret society in the Pacific Northwest whose symbol was an eye with a red X through it—one of the rare secret societies that actually managed to keep its secrets. Was this...?

He eyed the lit braziers nervously—had somebody been here recently?—but closer inspection revealed the flame was actually fueled by gas. Perhaps they were always lit. Dangerous, in a museum filled with old, dry papers and fibers; he began to wonder whether the museum was a mere extension of whatever this was, and not the other way around.

He pushed through the door.

Stone subterranean chamber, more lit braziers, a life size wood carving of a robed man with outstretched arms and a crossed-out eye on his chest standing in front of what looked like a shrine. Powers wasn't one given to flights of fancy, but if he were asked to imagine where an evil secret cult might meet, he'd be hard pressed to think of anywhere more perfect than this. All it was missing was a stone table for human sacrifices.

And the room was filled with hundreds, maybe thousands of pneumatic tube canisters.

He picked a few up. All of them had names written on them, a few labeled "(VISITOR)" or "(TOURIST)", most followed by the word "MEMORIES". He recognized a couple names from his investigation in town. He tried to pry one open and couldn't. What was in these things?

He found a filing cabinet near the carving, with a paper taped on top that read, "TOP SECRET! Do NOT open unless you're permitted to see the Society of the Blind Eye's secrets! (That means NOT YOU, Jeffrey!)" Ah, well—eye with an X through it, they would be called the Blind Eye, wouldn't they.

Powers pulled open the top drawer. There were only a couple of files in this one: one contained what looked like a list, again written in code; the other held what looked like blueprints to some sort of weapon called a "Memory Gun"—and if the notes on its usage and repair in the following pages were anything to go by, the Blind Eye had one of these things and was using it regularly.

As he flipped through the blueprints, a browned, square piece of paper slipped out of the folder and fluttered to the floor. He picked it up. It looked faded and aged, smelled like coffee, and was criss-crossed by diamond creases. Jumbles of incomplete diagrams and letters covered the paper.

As he turned around, a light caught his eye—not the yellow-red flicker of the braziers but a sickly digital glow. There was a computer monitor against the wall, its screen black but for a glowing green X'ed out eye. It sat atop a box labeled "↓INSERT↓"; the label pointed toward a pneumatic tube canister half-slottered into what looked like an oversized battery holder.

Powers scanned the room to make sure he was still alone; then pushed the canister fully into the holder.

It clicked and locked in. The green eye disappeared. The screen displayed a slender woman in her late thirties with coppery hair and a couple of figures in red robes partially visible in the shadows behind her. Metal cuffs bit into the sleeves of her well-worn flannel shirt, pinning her arms to a heavy chair; as she struggled to free herself, a camera swung from a strap around her neck, but somehow Powers doubted she was a sightseeing tourist. She snarled at the video camera recording her, "Where am I?! What do you think you're doing?! If you don't let me go, I swear I'll strangle you with your own stupid red bathrobes—"

An unseen person with a deep voice and a vaguely British accent said, "Be calm. Cooperate and this will all be over soon."

"Like hell am I cooperating! Let me go!" She shrieked at the top of her lungs, "HEEELP—"

One of the robed figures behind her stepped forward and clapped a large, meaty hand over her mouth. The deep voice said, "All we want is for you to tell us one thing: what is it that you have seen?"

The meaty hand tentatively uncovered her mouth so she could reply, then jerked out of the way when she tried to bite him. She snapped, "Nothing! I haven't seen a single stupid thing! You dragged me in with a bag over my head—"

"Did you not run into town, screaming in fear, claiming you were being chased by... some tall, faceless monster?"

"I—What? What does that have to do with—?" Her eyes widened. "What are you, the monster's cult?"

"Quite the opposite." The recording camera moved closer to the woman's face. Someone else snatched the woman's camera away by the neck strap. "Just be calm, think of that faceless monster... and in a moment, you'll never think of it again."

"What do you mean?" The rage slowly drained out of the woman's face, leaving only fear behind as she stared directly into the camera's lens. "What does that thing—? Don't! Don't—"

The recording ended. Static snow filled the screen. What in the world had Powers just watched?

He removed the canister from the slot and the screen went black. The label on the canister read "MRS. CORDUROY MEMORIES". He knew about the Corduroys; the eldest daughter worked for the Mystery Shack.

He had a report on Raina Corduroy's 2009 disappearance in his folder.

There was a date written on the tube canister. It was three days before her disappearance.

Goldie had told him Dan Corduroy was scared of something in the trees.

He flipped open the folder on the Memory Gun; held the canister up against a similar-looking part of the blueprints labeled "MEMORY CANISTER"; and read the other labels on the blueprints: "ELECTRIC TAPE (STORES MEMORIES)," "MEMORY SPECIFIER," "RADIATION BULB (DISASSEMBLES NEUROLOGICAL PATHWAYS)"...

And in a moment, you'll never think of it again.

It couldn't be possible.

He grabbed another memory canister laying on the right corner of the console. "MR. AND MRS. GLEEFUL MEMORIES." He'd visited a Gleeful Auto Mart just a few days ago.

He popped it into place. The screen lit up.

A woman with gray-streaked dusty brown hair sat on a plush pink sofa, sobbing into a tissue and struggling not to hyperventilate. A man—it was the Mr. Gleeful from Gleeful Auto Mart—wrapped an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. The angle was low, aimed at their knees, as though the camera had been left on a coffee table.

"It was awful," Mrs. Gleeful sobbed, "he was—he was lifting things and—throwing them around like some kind of poltergeist, or—or a demon— I've never seen my little Giddy that furious before, I've never seen anyone that furious before..." She grabbed a fresh tissue. "He's—he's got some sort of devil in him, we need to call a priest or a doctor or something—"

"Now, now, honey." Mr. Gleeful held her tighter and patted her arm. "You don't mean that. He's always been a mite tempestuous, you recall; and he's just practicing with those new powers of his—"

"Well I want those powers gone!" She pounded her fists on her bony knees. "Those powers and that awful book and—and—" She burst into heaving sobs again, flung an arm around her husband, and buried her head in his shoulder. "I just want my sweet little boy back."

Mr. Gleeful grimaced uncertainly and murmured, "I don't think I could get that book away from him if I tried." He picked up the camera—not a camera, Powers realized; the "memory gun" was designed to take recordings—and aimed it at himself and his wife. "Don't give yourself a headache crying, sweetheart; you won't worry about him anymore." He squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. "And I'm sure he'll make a better first impression on us with those powers next time."

For a second, she could only sob hitchingly into his shoulder; but then she asked, voice tiny, "Next time?"

Mr. Gleeful squeezed his eyes shut.

The recording ended.

Mr. Gleeful clearly knew what the memory gun did. He'd used it voluntarily. On a suspicion, Powers searched his wallet for the business card Mr. Gleeful had given him.

His name was Bud Gleeful. HEY BUD.

Goldie had sent him to Gleeful Auto.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Bud Gleeful was a mind wiping cultist and owned the best car dealership in the county. All the same—Powers turned so he could see the door from the corner of his eye, watching it warily, as he picked up the next canister.

It had Preston Northwest's name. He was one of the most important people in town. The patriarch of the richest family in Oregon—until last summer. Descendant of the town founder—allegedly. (Powers had gone undercover at last year's Northwest Fest and seen a few things that made him doubt the credibility of the Northwest family history—but nothing firm; and he couldn't very well interview that ghost now. Something shady was going on, but that wasn't his department.)

He clicked the canister into place. The screen lit up.

The memory gun turned back and forth as Preston paced back and forth in front of his manor's windows, delicately holding a narrow stemmed glass of what looked like bubbly white grape juice, but was probably much stronger. The deep vaguely British voice was back: "Would you explain what exactly it is you called on us for, Mr. Northwest?"

Fuming, Preston said, "Some... child dug up the truth about the town's founder—as well as the founder himself! This is unacceptable!"

"It certainly sounds traumatic," deep voice agreed. "Then you'd like us to... 'liberate' the child from the burden of this memory...?"

"No no no, you don't get it—the founder is still alive! Still alive! Just... running about out there!" He ran a hand through his $300 haircut. "I can't imagine how, he must be over two hundred years old, but—well, you know what this blasted town is like!"

"Intimately," deep voice said distastefully. "Then you want us to erase the child's knowledge that the founder is alive. And perhaps yours? You seem... distressed."

"Wh—?" Preston whirled around to stare at deep voice in outraged offense. "No, not me, you fool! I want you to find the founder, and make him forget his history! His whole life, if you have to!"

There was a pause. "That isn't how we operate, Mr. Northwest."

"I don't care!" Preston began pacing again, taking a deep drink from his definitely-not-grape-juice. "I could have you broken up in an instant if I wanted—nothing in this town runs without the Northwest Family's stamp of approval, and don't forget you're using the facility my grandmother commissioned—so if you want to keep operating, you operate how I say!"

There was a longer pause. The deep voice said, slowly, menacingly, "You really do seem very upset, knowing about this man running around in the woods. You really ought to forget all about him. And us."

"What?" Preston turned again; but this time, his eyes weren't on the speaker, but staring straight into the gun. "Oh no. You can't! You know you can't, how do you think you'll afford all your little custom canisters without my money?!"

"I don't think we'll need to worry about finances."

"Of course not," a clear female voice said. The gun swung around to frame Priscilla Northwest, standing in the doorway at the far end of the room. She said evenly, "As we discussed, I've arranged for your society to continue receiving its annual donation from the Northwests. You have nothing to fear."

Preston gaped at his wife in disbelief. He didn't even notice that the gun was slowly turning to aim at his head again. "Scilly? How do you know about— But— But why— How dare you—"

"You're too wound up over this," Priscilla said evenly. "You need to get it off your mind, darling. You're going to give yourself frown lines."

"Get it off my...?" His broken, dazed laugh was cut off sharply by the end of the recording.

Tape after tape of this. This was pretty obviously some sort of secret society that had been wiping people's memories around town—but to what end? What was the pattern? A woman who'd seen a monster, the parents of "child psychic" Gideon Gleeful (was he a real psychic?), the disgraced descendant of a fraud of a town founder... and if all of these recordings were like that, and if there were hundreds of recordings...

He looked down at the canisters scattered across the console—and spotted a fourth one. Name turned directly toward him, almost as though it wanted him to find it. "GOLDIE LOCKE (VISITOR)".

A chill ran down his spine.

He plugged it in.

Goldie was in the same chair where Mrs. Corduroy had been restrained—wearing a rumpled white button-up and an undone black tie, hair disheveled, teeth bared, one eye squeezed shut tight in pain, the other wide and furious. Her arms weren't strapped down like Mrs. Corduroy's had been; instead, they were wrenched behind her back. Apparently someone had restrained her first and then flung her into the chair.

She was already talking when the recording started: "—it doesn't matter what you do to me! Threaten me any way you want, I won't talk!"

"Talking is exactly what we don't want you to do, Ms. Locke." The deep voice was back, although sounding a little rougher than in the other recordings. (It was clear there had been a struggle; Powers hoped Goldie had broken his nose.) "And we'll make sure you never do."

Goldie flinched, both eyes opening. "You're going to...?"

"No, not that. We don't use such messy methods. It's enough to make sure you don't remember your current assignment—or anything that could lead you back to it."

"My team will be looking for me—"

"Your team won't remember you. We'll be dealing with them shortly." The gun lurched a foot closer to Goldie's face. She flinched again in fear. "I hope your life is flashing before your eyes, Ms. Locke! Because this is the last time you'll ever remember it!"

Her wide eyes got wider. “Wait—! No! Whoa-whoa-whoa wait wait stop STOP STOP—"

The recording ended.

Leaning on both hands over the console, Powers stared into the static snow with mute horror.

######

(Post-TBOB changes: added half the sentence "and don't forget you're using the facility my grandmother commissioned" to suggest it was Abigale Blackwing who built the big stone chambers under the museum. The rest of Preston's statement was the same, since I'd already decided the Northwests were bankrolling the Blind Eye—Abigale was just a bit of serendipity. And I think that's it? This chapter was impacted more by the official Gravity Falls coloring book than by TBOB.

PSA: this is the first chapter from Powers's POV, which means it's the first chapter that almost exclusively calls Bill "Goldie" and "she/her." So, a reminder: canon has exclusively called him "Bill" and "he/him" since 2013, and so do I except when I'm writing the POV of characters who don't know who Bill actually is. You, reader, know who Bill is.

I've had trouble in the past with commenters using the wrong name/pronouns for Bill just because he's been stuffed inside a body he does not identify with; so, don't let a chapter from a character who's wrong make the situation worse, please. Thanks.

Anyway!! We're shifting into conspiracy mode y'all. Wish Agent Powers luck. I'll be interested to hear y'all's theories on where Bill is going with all this; some parts of the hints/foreshadowing have been more overt than others.)

[itsnesss]

I love your blog 💖 my request is for sensei Wolf, where the reader is Miguel's older sister and has a baby, since Barcelona Wolf has an interest in her, and when the tournament returns to the All Valley Wolf approaches and you decide the ending

𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 | sensei wolf × fem!reader

OO1. OO2.

summary | the request. at the sekai taikai, you can’t shake wolf’s intense gaze. despite your hesitation, you agree to dinner after the tournament

warnings | diaz!reader, intense gaze and implied attraction, soft romantic moments, light suspense, mild references to past relationships, vulnerability

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The hustle and bustle of the Sekai Taikai filled the All Valley. The bright lights shone intensely, the cheers of the spectators echoed through the stands, and the sharp sound of blows on the tatami set the rhythm of each match. Everything felt so familiar that, for a moment, you felt trapped in déjà vu. It was as if Barcelona had never ended, as if those chaotic and exciting days were happening all over again before your eyes.

But this time, something was different.

You were carrying your baby in your arms, wrapped in a soft blanket, as you walked through the gym hallways, trying to find a quiet place to calm him down. Being Miguel’s older sister had already made you a familiar figure in the karate world, but now, being a mother made you feel even more visible. You received curious glances, some filled with tenderness, and others, like the one you had felt from the first day, filled with something deeper.

You knew exactly who it was.

You hadn’t forgotten his intense gaze since the tournament in Barcelona. Even then, when your whole world revolved around supporting Miguel, you couldn’t ignore the way he looked at you. Like you were a mystery he was dying to solve. But back then, there was no room for distractions. Your baby was on the way, and everything else faded into the background.

You didn’t expect to see him again, much less here. But there he was, on the other side of the tatami, leading his students with that calm authority that defined him. And every time you looked up, you found him watching you.

The first day you managed to avoid him. Between taking care of your baby, supporting Miguel, and dodging awkward questions, you kept your distance. But at the end of the day, when the stands were starting to empty and the noise was fading away, his voice caught you by surprise.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

You turned slowly, finding yourself face to face with him. He was even more imposing than you remembered. Tall, with his slightly messy hair and that lopsided smile that felt like a challenge.

“Me neither,” you replied cautiously, adjusting your baby’s blanket.

Wolf took a step toward you, never breaking eye contact.

“May I…?” he asked softly, gesturing towards the little one sleeping in your arms.

You hesitated for a moment but nodded. He approached carefully, observing the baby with a tenderness you didn’t expect from someone like him.

“He’s beautiful,” he whispered. “Just like his mother.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“Always so direct?”

“Only when I’m sure of what I want,” he replied without hesitation.

A shiver ran down your spine. You remembered too well the feeling of his intense gaze, but now there was something more. Something you didn’t dare name.

“I have to go,” you murmured, walking away quickly before he could say anything else.

The next few days felt like a silent game. Every time you walked past him, you felt his gaze following you. Every time you tried to focus on something else, his image crept back into your mind. And every time you thought about getting closer, you reminded yourself that your life was no longer just yours.

But Wolf didn’t seem willing to give up.

One afternoon, while you were walking through a quieter area of the gym to calm your baby, you found him leaning against a wall, as if he had been waiting for you.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked with that smile that made you nervous.

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m… busy,” you replied, trying to sound firm.

“I understand. You have a lot going on in your life now. But… can I take you to dinner after the tournament?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

“Dinner? With a baby? Doesn’t sound very practical.”

“I don’t care about the circumstances,” he said, stepping a little closer. “I only care about you.”

Your heart pounded loudly. You wanted to say no, that it was too complicated. But part of you longed to feel seen, desired… loved.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally said, walking away before he could press further.

The night of the tournament’s final day arrived faster than you expected. Miguel was focused on his final match, and you were trying not to think too much about Wolf. But it was impossible. Every time you looked around, you found him nearby, watching you with that intensity that made you lose your breath.

During a short break, Miguel approached you, frowning.

“What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird the whole tournament.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you lied, avoiding his gaze.

“Does it have something to do with that guy?” he asked, discreetly pointing at Wolf across the gym. “I’ve seen him watching you the whole time.”

You were speechless, surprised that Miguel had noticed.

“It’s nothing, Miguel,” you tried to reassure him.

“If he hurts you, I’ll knock him out,” he joked, though you knew he meant it.

The final match ended, Miguel won, and the gym started to empty out. You were gathering your things when you felt a presence behind you.

“Have you thought about it?” His voice was soft but determined.

You turned to find him closer than you expected.

“My life isn’t simple. I have a baby, responsibilities… I don’t know if I can do this.”

Wolf nodded, as if he had already considered it.

“I’m not asking you to leave everything behind. I’m just asking for a chance.”

You bit your lip, unsure. But when he reached out and gently caressed your baby’s cheek, something inside you gave in.

“Okay,” you whispered, almost not believing it.

Wolf smiled, a genuine smile you hadn’t seen before, and for the first time in a long time, you felt that maybe, just maybe, you deserved to be happy.

He took a step closer, so close that you could feel the warmth of his presence, the weight of his gaze. For a moment, the noise of the gym disappeared, and all that existed between the two of you was that charged atmosphere, full of unspoken promises.

"So, when will we see each other?" he asked softly, his tone as gentle as the brush of a warm breeze.

You could feel the knot in your stomach, the mix of emotions you had always managed to control, but now they seemed to flood out like an unstoppable torrent. The idea of letting someone into your life, of allowing Wolf to have some kind of access to you, terrified you. But at the same time, there was something in the way he looked at you, something in his stillness, that told you it could be different. That maybe what he was offering wasn’t a distraction, but something real.

"I promised I'd think about it," you replied, your voice trembling a little, but you managed to keep it steady.

Wolf didn’t insist. Instead, he simply nodded with that calmness that always surrounded him.

"I know. I just don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you. Take your time, okay?"

A small sigh escaped your lips. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, and that, more than anything else, made you lower your guard a little. You were used to being alone, to facing everything by yourself, but in that moment, you didn’t know what was happening, but you didn’t want to reject the idea of being with him.

"I’ll see you later," you said with a slight nod before turning and walking toward the lobby, where your baby was starting to move in your arms, as if the little one had something to say.

The afternoon passed in a whirlwind of emotions. Every step you took brought you closer to a point of no return. On one hand, you thought about your child, about what he needed, about what you needed. Were you ready to open your heart to someone else after so much time keeping the world at a distance?

And yet, something inside you told you that maybe you were. Maybe it was time to take the risk.

When night fell, and the place emptied of the last wave of spectators, you found yourself face-to-face with him again. He was there, as if he had been waiting for you, in a corner of the gym, surrounded by the lights that were slowly turning off.

"I think I’ve made a decision," you said, looking at your feet for a moment, taking a breath before raising your gaze to meet his.

Wolf raised an eyebrow, interested but not pressing you. He knew that what you were about to say was important, and you could see that in his expectant look.

"And... what is that decision?" he asked, his voice low and smooth at the same time, sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled slightly, with that insecurity you only felt when you didn’t know what the future held.

"I think I’d like to... have that dinner after all." Your words were like a revelation, something that had been locked inside and finally came out.

Wolf took a step toward you, and the world seemed to stop for an instant.

"Then, will you let me do things right?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper as his hands, firm yet gentle, took your baby’s hands, giving you space to make the decision you had already made in your heart.

Without thinking twice, you nodded, feeling like you could finally see the possibility of something beyond your fears.

Wolf smiled, a smile that wasn’t one of triumph or satisfaction, but a warm, understanding smile, as if he had understood every piece of uncertainty that had been swirling in your mind. It was the first time you felt truly seen, as if everything you had kept inside, everything you had feared, had found a place where it could fit.

"So, when will we see each other?" he asked again, but this time there was no urgency in his voice, just a longing you secretly shared.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, but instead of resisting, you decided to let that feeling surround you. You didn’t have clear answers, nor did you know what the future might bring, but something told you that, at least for a moment, you could allow that small spark of hope.

"Tomorrow?" you answered almost without thinking, as if you had been waiting for that response in some corner of your being.

Wolf nodded, his gaze fixed on yours with a soft but unwavering intensity. The noises of the gym, the flickering lights, everything faded into the air, as if time had stopped just for you to be here, in this space, in this possibility of what could be.

As you walked toward the exit, your steps slowed, as if the weight of the decision was taking form in your feet. The little one in your arms adjusted, breathing peacefully, his small face calm, unaware of the internal battle you had fought.

You reached the door, and before stepping out into the cold of the night, Wolf stopped. He turned to look at you, his expression serious but filled with something you couldn’t quite identify, something that invited you to come closer, to trust.

"I promise you won’t regret it," he said, his words simple, yet carrying a weight that made you believe them.

Without thinking, you nodded. Because sometimes, what you needed wasn’t to have all the answers, but to know that someone, even if just for a moment, was willing to walk alongside you, not pressuring you, not demanding anything more than being there.

With one last look, he said goodbye with a simple gesture, a promise without words.