#why do i always always have to feel like the odd one out. the one at the back of the sidewalk. the one paired up with the teacher | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

glossdebut · 2 days ago

Text

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 02

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: aqua uses her journalism degree to write a fake article, lots of yoongi pov, MC lore drop, extremely brief descriptions of sexual acts, some questions are answered but not many, sope cameo! also seokjin cameo! do you detect a hint of hyyh yoonkook-ism? because you should! EVENTS TRANSPIRE! (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 5.2k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: damn i always drop early don't i? here's a pre-holiday gift for those of you who celebrate thanksgiving. thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading SO FUCKING FAST LOL <3

p.s. from here on out updates are going to be much slower. we’re getting to the Real Plot now and i have to use my brain a little bit more. plus i want to make time to write other, shorter things! so be sure to check out my other fics if waiting for this becomes unbearable lol

CH. 02: A HIT IS HARD TO RESIST

Love in the Spotlight: Is "Burn The Stage" Singer Falling for a Scandal Magnet?

It’s the love story that’s rocking Seoul—and leaving fans divided. Jeon Jeongguk, the smooth-talking, chart-topping frontman of “Burn The Stage,” has been the subject of intense speculation after rumors surfaced that he’s been secretly seeing one of South Korea’s most talked about models, YLN YN. And while Jeongguk’s millions of fans would do anything to claim him as their own, it’s YN’s wild reputation that’s making this relationship one to watch.

The dating rumors of the two surfaced online when YN was seen on the balcony at Wasteland during the final show of the Burn The Stage’s world tour. Eyewitnesses claim that after the show, the two were spotted backstage together, sharing a private moment.

While Jeongguk’s image has been polished and pristine despite his rock star persona, YN’s name is frequently linked with controversy. From a string of public feuds with fellow influencers to rumors of reckless behavior, she has garnered a reputation for attracting scandal wherever she goes—a trait at odds with what fans have seen from Jeongguk. So what could possibly draw the two together?

Some fans are already sounding the alarm, warning Jeongguk that dating someone like YN could tarnish his squeaky-clean image.

“I don’t know why Jeongguk would choose her,” one concerned fan commented on Instagram. “She’s trouble, and he’s too good for her. His image will be ruined if this is true.”

Despite the criticism, others are rallying behind the couple, suggesting that Jeongguk may be the one to help YN change her ways. “Everyone has a past,” one fan posted on X (formerly known as Twitter). “Maybe Jeongguk sees something in her that no one else does. People can grow and evolve.”

While neither Jeongguk or YN’s companies have released an official statement on the matter, YN hasn’t been shy about fueling the rumors. In a recent post on her Instagram, she shared a photo of herself wearing a Burn The Stage hoodie, captioning it, “i guess i’ve got good taste 👀” which has sent fans into overdrive speculating that she’s sending a not-so-subtle message about her relationship with Jeongguk.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Yoongi groans to himself. He can’t read any more of this drivel. The wooden table in front of him suddenly looks all too inviting, perfect for him to bash his skull into.

You’re everywhere, completely inescapable for the past week. Apparently, Yoongi’s bi-weekly breakfast with Hoseok is no exception. The first one they’ve been able to have since the tour, too. God forbid he wants to mindlessly scroll on his phone for a second while he waits for his friend to return, because there you are, taunting him.

After the concert, Yoongi had been so annoyed by seeing you again. Pissed off at the circumstances. Ready to do anything in his power to extricate you from Jeongguk as fast as possible.

The past week has dulled his rage considerably. The endorphins of playing live have died, as have the potent emotions that come with them. Yoongi’s logical adult brain has set in, leaving him with only a headache.

“Woah,” Hoseok says, snorting as he slides a coffee into Yoongi’s field of vision. He slips into the booth across from him, taking a sip from his own cup with an amused look on his face. “You look much more homicidal than I left you. What could’ve possibly pissed you off in the last five minutes?”

Wordlessly, Yoongi hands Hoseok his phone, the article still displayed on the screen. Hoseok silently reads the first few paragraphs, and when he scrolls back up to look at the photo attached, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Oh?” he says, zooming in on your face. On Yoongi’s phone. The audacity. “This is the Innisfree girl, right? She’s dating Jeongguk?”

“Allegedly.”

“Is her skin really that nice in person?”

“Not the point,” Yoongi hisses, snatching his phone back from Hoseok’s grip and hastily closing the article to get your dumb face off of his phone. Dumb, poreless face.

“Okay, touchy,” Hoseok says, raising his hands in surrender. “Please explain the point.”

“I don’t trust her,” Yoongi says, tapping his foot under the table. “The relationship is bogus. She’s after something, I just can’t figure out what it is.”

“And you’re basing this on…?”

“Intuition,” Yoongi says flatly.

“Right. Because your intuition is never wrong,” Hoseok says, tone laden with sarcasm. “Need I remind you that you weren’t the biggest fan of me when we met?”

“I thought you were annoying,” Yoongi agrees. He takes a sip of his coffee to mask a smirk. “Who says I was wrong about that?”

“I’d probably be hurt if you hadn’t essentially bought us couple rings last year,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows. “You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

“Aish, they weren’t couple rings,” Yoongi complains. “Stop saying that. The wrong person is going to hear you and think it’s true.”

“Your ears are pink!” Hoseok exclaims triumphantly, pointing at the evidence. “Your mouth says one thing, but your ears always give you away.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Yoongi grumbles, pulling his beanie down. “Stop changing the subject.”

“Right, right. Sorry, hyung, you’re just so easy to tease,” Hoseok says, not even bothering to stifle his snickering. The bastard. “Jeonggukie’s new lady love. Go. Wait, do you want to fuck her?”

“What?” Yoongi sputters, eyes widening because what the fuck? “No—what? Look, it’s not just intuition, okay? I’m right about her. And you saw what the article said—drama follows her wherever she goes. Maybe she thinks dating Jeongguk will rehabilitate her image, or something like that.”

Yoongi had been so confident that wasn’t the case, since you’ve maintained all of your brand deals even in the midst of your many scandals, but maybe he was wrong. He still doesn’t know why you’re doing this, and it’s like the closer he gets, the less he can see.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi groans, rubbing his hands over his face. “She’s also just a bitch.”

“Okay,” Hoseok concedes, crossing his arms. “If you say so. She’s a bitch who you don’t want to fuck. What are you going to do about it?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I have that dinner tomorrow night. I was thinking of talking to Jeongguk after or something.”

“And telling him that his girlfriend is the devil? I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Yoongi sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jeongguk is a stubborn kid, but he knows I wouldn’t ruin something good for him. If I word it right, maybe he’ll listen.”

“You’re not wrong. For whatever reason, Jeongguk trusts your judgement.”

Yoongi glares at him. “Go fuck yourself, Hob-ah.”

“Whatever, hyung,” Hoseok says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s talk about something else, please. I haven’t seen you in months.”

Yoongi relents easily. He doesn’t really want to be talking about you either, not when it feels like an ice pick is being jammed into his temple.

He’ll just have to figure out what to say to Jeongguk later.

★ ★ ★

“Wow,” Seokjin says around a mouthful of jjapaguri. “He really hates you, huh?”

He’s fresh out of a long shift at the hospital, but he still headed straight to your apartment at the promise of food and celebrity gossip—his two biggest weaknesses, especially when the food doesn’t have to be made by him and the celebrity is you.

“Seems like it,” you sigh, using your chopsticks to push your noodles around aimlessly. “Normally I wouldn’t care, you know? Like, get in line, asshole.”

“But you care.”

“But I care.”

“Because of Jeongguk,” Seokjin says knowingly.

You drop your chopsticks and groan, stifling the sound by covering your face with your hands.

“Yes,” you concede. “But not because of that. I just want to help him, you know? He got me through a really rough spot last year. I’d feel like shit if I agreed to do this for him and then it ended up blowing up in our faces because of me.”

“Mmm,” Seokjin hums, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m sure the fact that you’re in love with him is a big motivator, though.”

You pick up your head, glaring at him. “Love is a big word, Jin.”

A very big word, you think, picking up your glass of wine to take a long gulp. God help you.

“A fitting one, too!” he says gleefully. “Come oooon. No judgement here. He’s hot. Not as hot as me, of course, but I have to give credit where credit is due.”

“Yes, you’re a god among men,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. “I don’t love Jeongguk. Not like that, at least. Do I need to remind you of the whole reason I’m doing this in the first place?”

“Yeah, yeah, the secret girlfriend,” Seokjin says, waving a hand dismissively. “Whatever. You’re spending a lot of time with him, is all I’m saying. The tides may turn in your favor.”

Wow, and you thought you were delusional.

“Fat chance,” you deadpan, polishing off your wine. “Especially if Yoongi is as persistent as he’s making himself out to be.”

“What’s his beef with you, anyway?” Seokjin asks, snorting to himself as he picks up a piece of steak with his chopsticks. Hilarious. “I feel like he’s going a little far for it to just be protectiveness, you know?”

Right. When you’d given Seokjin the rundown via text, you’d left one pretty substantial piece of information out.

“He said, um,” you start, picking at one of your nails nervously—a habit that Hyerin would smack you on the back of the head for, if she were here. “He said that he knows… more than I think.”

Just like that, all of the humor drains from Seokjin’s expression. “Meaning…?”

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice wobbling just a bit. “I don’t know, but if it does mean that… It makes the idea of rolling over and doing what he says pretty enticing, not gonna lie.”

“Fuck that,” Seokjin says firmly, your eyes widening in response. “If he’s the type of guy to use something like that as blackmail, then he’s a piece of shit. I don’t care if he is trying to protect Jeongguk.”

“He can’t know, though,” you groan, fully resting your head on the cool marble of your kitchen countertop now.

You’ve been wracking your brain for days now, trying to figure out if it’s even possible for Yoongi to know anything. You’re pretty confident the answer is no, but there’s no way to be one-hundred percent sure without confirmation from the man himself. And you’d honestly rather die.

“Nobody knows except the people involved and you. You’re the only one who didn’t sign an NDA, and I’m pretty confident you’ve never met Min Yoongi. Not to mention you just wouldn’t—”

“Share that information? Hell no, I wouldn’t,” Seokjin interrupts, scoffing. “Okay, well… Regardless of whether he knows anything, he honestly just sounds like a dick and I think you should kill him.”

You snort, lifting your eyes to look at him from where your head rests on the counter. “Maybe that can be plan B,” you offer.

“Fine, then what’s the plan A?” Seokjin counters, crossing his arms and raising a conspiratorial eyebrow at you.

Fantastic question, one you’ve been thinking about the answer to since you abruptly left the afterparty that night. It’s not like you can tell Jeongguk what’s going on and risk having to tell him the whole truth. You trust Jeongguk, but…

No, it’s not an option. You don’t want anyone else to know. So, if Yoongi’s going to insist on being a problem for you, you might as well return the favor. It’s only fair.

You grin, lifting your head and leaning closer to Seokjin.

“I’m going to make his life a living hell.”

★ ★ ★

Yoongi hasn’t touched a cigarette since he was twenty one years old.

He picked up the nasty habit at sixteen, when one of his friends doled out African Ice Jacks amongst the group, bragging that his hyung had bought the pack for him. As soon as the lighter was flicked on and the bittersweet taste of bubblegum and tobacco filled Yoongi’s lungs, he was hooked.

It was stupidly easy to get his hands on cigarettes before he was of legal age, even when his friend’s hyung couldn’t supply them for whatever reason. All of the adults around him smoked, including his parents.

It felt as though cigarettes were an extension of his hand, felt wrong when he didn’t have the option to light one up. During school hours, Yoongi’s fingers would twitch on his desk as he waited for his last class to end.

He was a fucking anxious, wound-up kid. Smoking was the only thing that helped, sometimes. If he had a shit day, at least he could have a cigarette.

When the band got signed, though, things changed. Despite the fact that the majority of the population in Korea smoked, celebrities were vilified for it in the media. For whatever fucking reason. Yoongi didn’t care much what the media had to say about him, but he reasoned that it would be pretty stupid to let his dream die over Ice Jacks. So he quit.

It was hard at first, but it’s been five years now. After so much time, it’s rare that cigarettes even cross his mind, even when others smoke around him.

Sitting across the table from you now, though, Yoongi’s fingers twitch just like they had when he was in grade school staring at a clock.

He and the band started frequenting Yoojung Sikdang long before there was any real hope for fame. It was their chosen spot after every practice. The ajumma who owns it knows their names, remembers their orders by heart. Over the years, the only part of the restaurant that’s changed is their autographed photos on the wall. They’ve celebrated every single milestone here, big or small, just the five of them. Alone.

Wrapping up their first world tour should be no different. It’s their biggest milestone yet, and all Yoongi wanted was to eat ssambap with his best friends. Remind himself that none of the fame matters as long as they still have this.

But here you are. Of course. Encroaching on everything Yoongi’s built, everything he holds dear to his heart.

The only time it’s ever been more than the five of them here was the night they signed their contract, accompanied by two label executives. Even if you’re allegedly riding Jeongguk’s dick, no way are you that fucking important.

Yoongi would laugh if he wasn’t so pissed off. You are such a fucking pest. He just can’t shake you off.

“You don’t like what you ordered?” Jimin asks you, snapping Yoongi out of his thoughts.

Yoongi’s made an effort to keep to himself for the majority of the dinner. No use in ruining everyone else’s night—it’s still a special one, after all. Besides, he’s still trying to be an adult about things. You may have ruined his plan to talk to Jeongguk tonight, but it’s not like he’s going to cause a scene in front of a restaurant full of people—

“Oh, I’m just not very hungry,” you say. Yoongi’s eyes narrow.

All you’ve been doing all night is burrowing into Jeongguk’s side, barely touching your food. Lipgloss still perfectly in place. Normally, Yoongi wouldn’t care—he’s not paying for it. He wastes food on the label’s dime all the time. At Yoojung Sikdang, though?

“Why did you come, then?”

The words come out of Yoongi’s mouth before he can stop them, sharp and pointed. He’d fully intended to keep his mouth shut, eat his food, and then go home. Maybe buy a pack on the way. But now they’re out there, and Yoongi can’t bring himself to care. Certainly not to feel bad.

For the first time since you’d walked in on Jeongguk’s arm, you make eye contact with him. On purpose this time—challenging. Yoongi’s not a little bitch, so he stares back.

“Because Jeonggukie invited me,” you say, faux sweetness dripping from your words as you lean your head on Jeongguk’s shoulder. Eyes still fixed on Yoongi. “I figured it would be okay, since you all gave me such a warm welcome last time.”

Yeah. Yoongi’s buying that pack of cigarettes.

“You’re always welcome to come out with us,” Taehyung coos, like he thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world. Knowing Taehyung, he probably does.

Everyone seems to be in agreement on that front, too, except Yoongi who rolls his eyes as he shoves a ssam into his mouth. Whatever.

“It’s gonna be hell getting you out of here, though,” Namjoon adds from Yoongi’s left. He leans over to glance at the crowd of people peering through the front of the restaurant, cameras at the ready, desperate to get a glimpse of you and Jeongguk. Not that you’re making it particularly hard.

“We’ve never had a crowd like that out there,” Jimin says, in awe. “I’m not surprised, though. Those articles about you two have been getting tons of clicks.”

“Ah,” you say. If Yoongi didn’t know better, he’d think you sound almost sheepish. “That, um. That might be my fault. I told my manager I was coming here. She must’ve tipped someone off.”

Of course.

“Anything for a photo-op, right?” Yoongi sneers, unable to help himself. It’s such an easy shot, after all. You’re being so transparent.

“Hyung,” Taehyung says, eyes wide as if he’s appalled.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi-ssi,” you say, tilting your head at him. That little flash of a challenge is still in your eyes, and Yoongi doesn’t like it one bit. “Do you have a problem with me being here?”

Yoongi scoffs, sitting up. When he speaks, it’s laced with bitterness. “We just don’t normally come here with guests, that’s all. I guess I didn’t get the memo that that’d suddenly changed.”

“I invited her, hyung,” Jeongguk says. “She’s my girlfriend.” He wraps his arm around you protectively and, fuck, you’re good. You’re so good at making Yoongi look like the asshole.

“I get that, Guk-ah,” Yoongi tries, his voice considerably softer now. “But, come on… Here? And the mob outside, I mean… Do you really think that was just a harmless mistake?”

“What are you implying?” Jeongguk grits out. He’s angry now, that much is clear, and it’s Yoongi’s fault.

You have him trapped. He’s surrounded by landmines, unable to come up with a single response that could possibly defuse them.

“Come on, guys,” Namjoon says, glancing at Yoongi pointedly. “We’re here to celebrate.”

“If Yoongi-ssi is uncomfortable that I’m here, maybe I should go,” you say, making to get up.

Jeongguk reaches for your arm, stopping you. “No,” he says. “Yoongi-hyung, you can either get over it and stay with us, or you can leave. You’re the only one who doesn’t want her here.”

Un-fucking-believable.

“Are you serious?” Yoongi scoffs, looking around at everyone. Is this really happening to him right now? This is his band!

The table is deadly silent. Everyone refuses to meet Yoongi’s eyes except you and Jeongguk, who raises a challenging eyebrow at him. It’s immediately apparent to Yoongi that he’s not winning this one. That somehow, he’s ruined the night meant to celebrate him and his friends.

Bitterly, Yoongi laughs. “Fine.”

No one protests when he pushes his chair away from the table and stands up, and that stings much more than Yoongi would like to admit.

He catches your eye as he grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, anger flaring at how pleased you look.

“Have a nice fucking dinner,” Yoongi mutters, before turning on his heel and walking towards the door. Leaving his friends to face a crowd of photographers and fans that you called.

As he walks out into the cold, dodging the phones being shoved in his face, all he can think about is the way Jeongguk had looked at him.

★ ★ ★

You met Jeon Jeongguk a year ago, give or take a few months. You just remember it was cold.

Less than twenty-four hours after a particularly nasty breakup with a guy you didn’t love but liked enough, you were back on the clock. Zipped into something tight and expensive, wearing the best waterproof mascara money could buy.

You hated those events to begin with—the galas, end of year ceremonies for awards you were no longer viable to win. They were torture for you. But the sting of being freshly single only made things worse, so you had decided to make the most of it.

You may not have been able to win a KMA, but you were well within your rights to treat the KMAs themselves like your own personal dating pool. No better way to rid yourself of your ex like getting with someone new, you thought.

Which is where Jeongguk came in, devastatingly hot in his tailored suit. You’d ran into him on your way from the bathroom—much like you had with Yoongi, now that you think about it—and you instantly found yourself wondering what it would be like to kiss a guy with a lip ring. Jeongguk, as it turned out, was very interested in showing you.

You were both a little drunk, but the attraction was real. Instant.

One very handsy cab ride later, and you were in his apartment, grinding on his lap as you experienced first-hand just how little of an obstacle a lip ring can be if the man who has it knows what he’s doing.

Things were going so well—Jeongguk’s tongue exploring your mouth as you felt his cock stiffening beneath you. But it all came crashing down as soon as his hand slid under your dress.

The fact of the matter was, you’d just been dumped. Regardless of how strongly you did or didn’t feel about your ex, you’d still been dumped and it still hurt. As soon as Jeongguk really touched you, it became all too apparent that you wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Luckily, at the slightest bit of hesitance from you, Jeongguk’s hand immediately retreated from under your dress.

He was sweet about it. Really, really sweet. Valiantly ignored his erection and offered to listen instead, which made you laugh. Comforted you even though you hadn’t thought you needed it. Let you sleep in his bed anyway. When you left the next morning, kindly offered to be your friend, because you clearly needed one.

You’ve been friends ever since.

Not in the same way that Seokjin is your friend, of course. Seokjin is your best friend, has been since you were both kids. But Jeongguk just… He gets the industry, in a way that Seokjin never will.

Which brings you to last month.

Last month, when Jeongguk called you nervously in the middle of his tour schedule. Asked you to be his fake girlfriend in guilty, hushed whispers.

You didn’t need to know why. You were always going to say yes.

But Jeongguk explained anyway. He explained that he has a girlfriend, a real girlfriend, who isn’t from your world. That he hasn’t been able to see her nearly as much as he’d like to because he’s terrified of the backlash she could receive from being connected to him romantically.

You read between the lines—you have nothing to lose, at this point. There isn’t a day that goes by where someone online doesn’t have something to say about you, reputable or not.

He explained that in order to maintain the lie, no one in the industry could know the truth, not even Jeongguk’s bandmates. According to him, they wouldn’t understand why he felt the need to go to such lengths. You didn’t completely agree then, but having met Yoongi now, you get it.

His girlfriend knows about you, he’d told you. She knows who you are, knows about that night last year, and that she still agreed to let him ask you this. She doesn’t see you as a threat.

It stung, a little. Of course it did. You and Jeongguk may be friends, but you’ve always felt a hint of something else there. Maybe it was the kindness he’d shown you when you met. Maybe it’s just him. But you never said anything, convinced it was one-sided.

Clearly you were right.

Still, you want to do this for him. You care about him, and just because you can’t maintain a stable relationship doesn’t mean Jeongguk doesn’t deserve a chance at one.

You think, if Yoongi knew, he’d feel the same.

★ ★ ★

Five years down the drain, Yoongi thinks. Ashes his cigarette. Oh well.

Honestly, it’s not even really about you, although Yoongi would love to pretend otherwise. If he pins it all on you, it makes his mission to get rid of you all the more noble. The label breathing down his neck. The impending deadline of an album he doesn’t know if he can write. Dongsaengs that don’t know how to stay out of trouble. If it’s all your fault, it can’t be his.

This—the smoking—was bound to happen, with or without you. You just helped the process along.

He’s perched on his windowsill, puffing his way through cigarette number two, when his phone buzzes next to him.

Namjoon doesn’t call him nearly ever. Yoongi has a way that he likes things done, and Namjoon is probably his only friend that actually respects it. Emails for work. In-person or texts for personal shit. Video calls never. Phone calls only if Yoongi needs to hear it now and there’s no other way.

Yoongi picks up.

“Joon-ah?” Cautious. He likes phone calls the least because phone calls mean trouble, like someone is in the hospital. He’s gotten that call before, more than once.

“Hyung,” Namjoon says. “Do you have a minute?”

Namjoon wouldn’t be asking that if someone was in the hospital, so Yoongi allows himself to unclench. Just a little. “Yeah, I have a minute.”

He hears rustling on the line, like Namjoon is fidgeting. But Namjoon is always fidgeting, so that could mean nothing.

“I figured, given the events of tonight, that it would be a good call to warn you ahead of time. I would’ve come by your apartment, but I’ve got meetings all morning tomorrow and it’s late. I didn’t want to wait until next time I see you though, so…” Namjoon starts, trailing off.

Yoongi works his jaw. “Spit it out, Joon-ah,” he says, because Namjoon is shit at delivering bad news. He’s always beating around the bush, trying to soften the blow. It’s great for the kids, but it makes Yoongi feel like he’s about to have to bury his first-born or some shit. Yoongi likes clear, direct.

Namjoon knows this, so he always gets it right on the second try.

“YN is going to the Jeju house with you guys,” Namjoon says. Clear and direct, but the absolute last thing Yoongi wants to hear right now.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not.”

“She has literally no fucking reason to be there, Joon-ah,” Yoongi grits out. The cigarette secured between his index and middle knuckles has burned down to nothing, singes his fingers. He hisses and flicks it out the window. “Is she going to help us write an album? Is that it?”

“Hyung—“

“No, she isn’t. She’s going to distract my lead singer the whole time and make the whole point of the trip fucking impossible,” he interrupts, because once he gets started he can’t stop. “Who signed off on this? Doesn’t she have a job? Isn’t there a goddamn camera that needs to be smoldered at?”

“Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon says. He’s using his manager voice, and Yoongi shuts up instantly.

Namjoon uses this voice on the kids all the time. Realistically, it’s not a big deal. It’s his job. But he’s never had to use it on Yoongi before.

He deserves it, though. Yoongi knows that. He knows that he’s been insufferable ever since you showed up, and he doesn’t like it either. He’d wanted to talk to Jeongguk, to have a heart-to-heart with him about it, but that’s proven impossible given that you’re always around. And Namjoon is their voice of reason.

Yoongi tries again.

“I don’t like her,” he explains, keeping his voice level. “I don’t think she has Jeongguk’s best interests at heart. I’m just trying to look out for him.”

The line stays quiet for a long moment, like Namjoon is taking special care in choosing his next words. It would make Yoongi nervous, but that’s just what Namjoon does.

“Hyung, you need to leave it alone,” he finally says.

What the fuck.

Yoongi could have foreseen plenty of responses from Namjoon. He’s been on the receiving end of Namjoon’s sage advice more than he’s proud of. Yoongi worries a lot, and Namjoon is particularly good at quieting those worries, particularly when they pertain to the kids. And they usually do. But he sure as shit wasn’t expecting to be blown off like that.

“Joon-ah, Jeongguk is gonna—“

“Jeongguk is a grown man. He’s fully entitled to make his own decisions, and you need to respect that if you don’t want to lose him.”

Lose him? Is Yoongi going insane? Is he fucking missing some integral piece of this puzzle that everyone else seems to have?

The notion of losing Jeongguk is completely absurd. How could he lose Jeongguk over something like this? Jeongguk, the college freshman with the huge eyes who followed Yoongi around like a puppy. Jeongguk who sang so softly when Yoongi asked, who beamed with pride when Yoongi told him he had something special. Jeongguk who dropped out alongside Yoongi, took a risk because he trusted his hyung to take care of him.

It was Yoongi and Jeongguk before it was anyone else, and Yoongi has never let Jeongguk down once, won’t allow himself to. This is the thing that’s going to change that?

“What are you even talking about?”

“Just… leave this one alone, Yoongi,” Namjoon sighs. “She’s coming whether you like it or not, and you need to at least pretend to play nice.”

Yoongi doesn’t appreciate being treated like a child who’s the cause of his parent’s headache, not by Kim Namjoon. The label dickheads are one thing, but the one person Yoongi has entrusted with everything for the past five years? Before that, even? Fuck that. Namjoon doesn’t talk to him this way, and that’s not about to change because of you.

“Namjoon-ah, if you’re going to blow me off, at least put my cock in your mouth and do it right,” Yoongi spits, hanging up before he can think better of his words.

Fuck.

Yoongi hasn’t bitten Namjoon’s head off like that in a long time. It doesn’t feel good to be back in old patterns like this. Yoongi knows why he doesn’t trust you, but he doesn’t know what it is about you that makes it so—urgent. Like he’s a wild animal primed to bite. To hurt. Yoongi isn’t that guy.

If what Namjoon said is true, if Jeongguk really is at risk of slipping through Yoongi’s fingers, he has to get his fucking act together. He has to try harder to handle this like an adult.

So, you’re coming to Jeju. Fine. Yoongi can be civil.

Even if the only way for him to be civil is not to speak to you at all.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

✧ TAGLIST:

@jajabro @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap @ot72025 @ktownshizzle

@futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @namjoonsbuspass @wobblewobble822

@kkaetnipjeon @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @this-most-assuredly-counts @sugafun @binniesbabe

@1800lxcifrrr @whoa-jo @amarawayne @kimsaerom @bangtangsworld @angellekookie

@jalexad @tarahardcore @valhallawhispers @chimmisbae @notsevenwithyou

@jimingirl95 @jadestonedaeho7

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ NEXT CHAPTER

93 notes · View notes

srslylini · 2 days ago

Text

The way season 1 ended she was at a point so low she was ready to blow up a city (and like she did, she blew up the council). The start of season 2 showing her cathartic wasn't actually bad I liked that direction. It felt like they wanted to show her in a "nothing state" which depression also feels like.

they showed her as not caring about anything anymore (literally just walking through every scene in the music video sucker while everything just HAPPENS around her). The meeting with Isha, while still being a little bit odd since it felt like well they randomly put them together but that's something you can overlook, was amazing. She still just didn't care, played with her life.

Her reaction to seeing her sister being an enforcer? Gut punching. Extremely painful. The fight with her STILL being more in a nothing like state, just shooting the dude with her back turned to him felt very s1 which is good because again, Jinx in the end was like??? done.

and then.... act 2 happened. Suddenly they used Jinx's mental state as a Plot device. In season 1 it would ruin missions and her freaking out would happen no matter if "the plot needed it or not" if you get what I mean? The first mission we see on screen? fucked up because Jinx lost control. This happens throughout the first season, it doesn't just come when ever the writers need it to happen.

In season 2 it does. Suddenly in situations that should freak her out she doesn't. Suddenly they use it as a plot device. Why was she very calm and relaxed upon meeting Vander as warwick with Vi? Why did she not freak out when Vi and her fought in the mines?

Do we all remember what happened in season 1 episode 3? And how Jinx immediately lashed out as soon as a fight occured? What happened? Also why was she suddenly so very chill with Enforcers in act 2 and beyond? The joke with the Enforcer and her god damn fucking pants was so out of place I cannot even handle to think about it anymore. The fight with Warwick was good and I liked that in the end they again showed that she is ready to kill herself, at least there is continuity here but that is also never addressed and also... happens for Plot and plot only

it happens so warwick can see the bomb and so they can have him recognize her, like okay arcane writers? And then after that she is simply fine with her second father figure showing up again? You are telling me the girl who had such a mental break down last season over her sister returning would be absolutely fine and 🥺family🥺 upon seeing Vander? Where was the sense? Where was her having to deal with Silco and Vander in her mind? i don't WANT to see her tortured, duh, but they set that up and showed this happening to her in season 1, so this is just, I dont know, a plothole? You are telling me the same girl who blew up the council in s1, and like LOOK AT HER in that scene, is all cuddle cuddle with her past family whose death she always blamed herself for and was scared off?

Then Isha dying, and god do I have my problems with that but that's another thing, and THEN having Jinx never mention her again? Are you KIDDING ME? like it's not even just not mentioning her as much as it is just also Isha not appearing in her nightmares etc. That is NOT how they set Jinx up as a character. While the scene with Jinx in the prison with Silco turning up was chillingly heartbreaking it also didn't make sense if you take into account how they wrote her seeing things this season. In the one scene where she talked to Silco's chair she says he doesn't show up and then when she is in pain over Isha being caught suddenly he stands behind her? I mean maybe I missed something here but I literally sat there like huh.

In season 1 it happened not because it was needed but because it wasn't. As it should be. In this season it only happened when the Plot needed to move and that's just so incredibly weird to me. Especially cause I already saw people misinterpreting the Silco and Jinx prison scene. It was her subconscious telling her to kill herself not Silco trying to be "a positive influence".

And then or course, we have this tragic character Jinx. Who was shown to have a wish of death all throughout season 1 with how careless she was with her life (for example when she threw around the bombs in her hide out) and then throughout season 2 as well. Who saw a breath of life for a bit, taken from her.

To have a character like this ACTUALLY die by killing herself and then to paint it as a GOOD thing? This isn't a tragedy. This is straight up suicide glorification. I did not cry when I watched this scene, I did not feel sadness and grief. I was beyond mad and disgusted and might be for a long time to come.

I need more ppl to talk abt how awfully Jinx was treated this season. I am soooo angry and upset

#arcane #arcane season 2 #mental health #is there something I forgot?#arcane spoilers #tw sui talk #character analysis #jinx #isha #sevika #silco #media critical #arcane season 1 #vi

202 notes · View notes

icarus-lee · 2 days ago

Text

so you really love me?

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･his endearing soft side, his innerchild °❀

charac. michael kaiser x gn! reader

author’s notes: i tried mirroring his backstory and to what i think he really is behind closed doors w sum1 he rlly loves. Please enjoy!

Michael Kaiser was better off a criminal.

He steals, that's his thing. Probably the only thing he's ever known to do.

He asked you once, "Is there still salvation in the future?" Of course Kaiser never hoped for anything in his past anymore.

Yet that question rings back to you as you see him on the big screen. 75 minutes into the match and you see him turn a desperate glance towards somewhere beyond the field. He was having an evident crisis, a mental struggle that was only known to him; and you. Perhaps it was his whole world crumbling right before your eyes and no one knew it was a crucial moment for him.

You could see the way he’d even plead his teammate Raichi for a pass. “Please” was never a word for your emperor. And that very same emperor that you were seeing right now, was stripping every bit of wealth that he’s desperately protected over the years. It takes you back to when he was only a nobody, not a somebody.

Power was important for Kaiser, truthfully that was his only way to feel human, to assure himself that he won’t go back there anymore. Yet Michael was only a kid, wearing a crown and robe just to earn what every child like him deserved, love. But now, earning love is not that simple right? For there were thorns that accompanied this talented striker. Coincidentally, you had a thing for treasure that surely bites.

“The name Michael means a gift from God. You’re a gift, Micha.” Slowly but reassuringly, you trace the delicate lines of his rose tattoo as he lays there with you, on the soft mattress of his king-sized bed

Michael hums, and shakes his head. He gains a grasp of your hand and plants it to his head, rubbing himself with your touch. You chuckle as he lets out a low groan.

“Watch that beautiful mouth; I might just kiss it.” You heard his harmless threat as he buried his head onto his pillow, your lap. His body wasn’t used to the soft envelopment of a mattress. To him, it was only cardboard before.

You chuckle, “You always do, everyday. Who knew Michael Kaiser wasn’t a grumpy cat to his Liebling? Instead he becomes a melting mess who’s touchy when no one’s looking?”

He abruptly gets up from his comfy little spot (aka your body) and looks at you with a gaze that tells you to keep talking. His gaze tells you that he longs for moments like these to last, for these seconds not to easily pass. Because somewhere in those sapphire eyes, remains an inner child whose soul has been wounded by the burdens of his past.

“You’re gonna have coffee with me right, Liebling? In the morning? ” He simply asked, as he reached for the back of his head, his hair messy as it always was.

It baffled you for a second as to why he would ask that. Yet it suddenly hit you; he didn’t want you to leave by the morning, let alone wake up without you in his arms with not even a simple goodbye. That’s just how he is, considering that right now, he wasn’t Kaiser. He was Michael.

“Who said I wouldn’t? I’ll always will.”

He scoffs, “You’re hard to read Y/N, as always.”

You show him a helpless pout that he can't help but smirk about as you lean closer to his face. “And what does that mean, Micha? ”

“When I expect stones, you give me feathers. When I expect thorns from roses, you give me flowers in a pot.” His expression was far from the familiar smirk he'd show on the field. He held an odd aura of sincerity behind his stern words.

“How could you love me? ”His question became a mumble under his breath but was audible enough for you to hear.

You simply smiled and stood on your knees to fully embrace his figure in bed. His bare back, making contact with your warm hands that could never land a sting on his skin. Your scent encapsulates him, suffocating the last bit of bitterness and wilt in his body. And most of all, he felt your words like an unspoken prayer to the same God he questioned for his existence.

“How? You shouldn’t ask how. You should ask, when have I ever not loved you?”

That’s when Michael learned:

That love has existed, even before the word ever came out of his mouth.

#bluelock #micheal kaiser #michael kaiser #kaiser #isagi #itoshi sae #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk fanfic #bluelock x reader #bluelock season 2 #hiori yo #ego jinpachi #kurona ranze #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #oliver aiku #bllk kaiser

144 notes · View notes

pinkaditty · 2 days ago

Note

HI i love your works sm ,,, and i really love the way you write it just brings out soemtnhign in me ,,, but hear me out on leo kurosagi angst where leo keeps insulting pc and pc just took it well until he said something sensitive (maybe sth ab the way she eats? or sth abt her face etc etc) and hurt pc's feelings and he didnt feel bad when pc cried , but when he saw pc going over to sho and sho giving him dirty looks he feels remorseful but he didnt want his pride to crack so he blamed pc , and then when pc started avouding him he started mocking her but in the inside it hurt him and his pride slightly , afterwards he found out he actually has genuine feelings for pc but denies it , until he found out pc is now his bff's gf WOW i NEED him humbled 🤗🤗🤗

Pavlov's Ghoul (Leo Kurosagi x Reader x Sho Haizono; Tokyo Debunker)

hey anon this existing is UR FAULT. (ilysm ty 4 the idea) and i hope u don't mind that I added my own little twist 2 it... hehe! even if u didn't expect me 2 write anything u can't drop a fresh, juicy steak of an idea like this and expect me not 2 salivate and tear it 2 shreds via writing it out.

OMG also TYYYYYYY IM SOSO GLAD U LIKE MY WRITING YIPPEE!!!!!!!!! i hope this is up 2 ur standards anon

a/n: why does this exist? blame anon and my inner need 4 a bitchy boy 2 be humbled amen! also i feel like i've completed my tokyo debunker rite of passage... ive finally written leo angst... nirvana at last.

summary: leo gets fuckin pavloved LMAO! considered calling this "ecstasy" or something bc of the pill line but ohh my god "pavlov's ghoul" hit too hard i fear.

cw: this isn't dark imo but be warned as this is just a little bit crazy, the most insane kind of yearning ive ever written maybe. implied sexual encounters, multiple sexual innuendos, and some odd behavior. MINORS DNI AS PER USUALLLLLL!

Sho's kind, reasonably so. Leo knows this. Sho also has an infinite store of deeply repressed anger. Leo also knows this. It's the reason he's in Vagastrom, after all. A deep, roiling anger that seems to eat at him if he doesn't have an appropriate outlet to balance his mood. That's why he's such a good cook, why he's so good at fighting, why he's got an excellent sense of balance and rides his bike smoother than anyone else he knew. He's using these things as outlets for his anger. It's not Leo's fault that the occasional outing to trick and deceive another sexually repressed rich old man for money is something else Sho seems to derive stress relief from. And it's not Leo's fault that Sho continues to stick around with him after those jobs are done. It's never been a problem for either of them, as far as he can tell. At least, there were no problems until Little Miss Inspector showed up.

Suddenly, Sho didn't want to lie anymore. Suddenly, Sho wanted to go as far as to address you with the proper honorifics, ask for your help with setting up his food truck, and even generally spend time with you outside of that. And for what? Some trembling, scared, pathetic girl that knew nothing of the world of anomalies prior to her curse? Some girl doomed to "die" in less than one year, no less? He couldn't understand the kindness Sho showed you. It made no sense, nor any difference. You'd be dead soon, so what did it matter?

It's got to the point where he's begun to randomly put you down with petty insults and biting remarks. They usually consist of things like "Oh my god, even preschoolers know Anomalous Biological Basics! Come on Inspector, is your head screwed on right? Not even the Captain is this stupid." or "You remember your ability is useless when we need it, right? You'd be nothing more than a burden on missions if you can't even control this power. " or even "God, you're such a basic loser. Can't you find something else to do with your free time instead hang around Sho like a lovesick puppy? You're starting to look like that dog that's always around Kagami." and worse insults. He gets the occasional sidelong disapproving glance from Alan or even a slight furrowed brow from Sho, but it didn't matter to Leo. So long as he could slowly plant seeds of doubt in his fellow ghouls and put you down to satisfy his ego, even an odd look was negligible.

He couldn't even stand looking at you. The uniform they'd chosen for you was awful, didn't even highlight your curves. He hated the way you styled your hair, and always thought he could totally do it better. The way you seemed so relaxed around other ghouls pissed him off, why couldn't he be good company? He found you repulsive, unable to resist glaring at you from the corner of his eye whenever he could. He had to get rid of you somehow. He would never admit to feeling threatened by you; instead choosing to focus all that energy into believing you were simply throwing a wrench into his plans to live an easy, get-away-with-anything university life.

It's all come to a head today. Leo thinks he's had enough of seeing you at the food truck after hours, chatting it up with Sho. It's like he can't even catch this guy alone anymore. Before he knows it, he's made a beeline for the truck. His brand new shoes scuff on the brick path in his rush, and eventually begin to stain green on the grass, his brisk stride tearing through the verdant lawn. He tries not to let his anger show on his face, but it's evident in his posture and pace. He forcefully sidles himself into the conversation, leaning on the service counter next to you, not even waiting for you to finish speaking before he pipes up. "Wow, here again, huh? And here I thought a basic bitch like you would know her place! That mouth of yours must be good for something if he keeps a chatterbox like you around."

The chill settles into the air almost immediately despite his candid tone and relaxed, smug smile. He's so focused on your reaction that he hardly notices the look Sho gives him, twisted with displeasure and confusion. He watches as you visibly falter, your lopsided smile fading into a barely-there frown. He stares, unrepentant, laughing internally. This was the reaction he wanted.

He turns towards Sho and raises an eyebrow at his look. "What? She can take it." Sho's expression visibly wavers, and Leo fully expects him to back down, as he usually does. But instead, Sho turns to you and his face grows pale. Leo rolls his eyes, assuming Sho is totally overreacting, and turns to you. He stiffens at your visible tears. Okay, totally not what he expected, but come on. This was the insult that made you cry?

Leo notices Sho is at your side in record speed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and gently drawing your hunched form away, giving Leo a harsh look. Leo simply scoffs. As far as he was concerned, your reaction was pathetic. It wasn't going to stop him from having any fun.

This. Under no circumstances should this hurt. At all.

Leo had noticed you'd been avoiding him. You would slink away if he so much as entered the same room as you. You wouldn't look him in the eyes if he approached, keeping your expression impassive. Sometimes you'd just outright ignore him. It was beginning to become a bit of a nuisance. He couldn't properly mock you if you weren't there to witness it happening, or didn't give him the reaction he wanted. It was odd. When he faced these feelings head-on, it almost felt like he wanted your attention somehow, even if he didn't quite want it to feel like that. A nagging feeling told him that maybe he went too far with his latest insult. He didn't want to admit that, but something told him he did. It was in the way both you and Sho acted around him.

Sho was missing a lot of Leo's calls lately, sometimes not even bothering to call back. Leo partially understood, what with the food truck business booming and all, but he didn't appreciate being made to wait for his own best friend who's usually at his beck and call. Not to mention the flat, terse responses he would get from Sho more often than not nowadays. Leo knew Sho was miffed with him from last week's incident, but as far as Leo was concerned, things still ended in his favor. He hadn't seen you around Sho much anymore, which means he could go back to how things were. No more pesky little honor student to reign upon his days any longer! Sure, there was the biting underlying feeling that maybe he'd screwed things up, but one ride on the back of Sho's motorcycle, going wherever Leo wanted as per usual, and he was living the dream again. No way everything would change over a silly, insignificant insult.

For a short while, he begins to get bolder, openly mocking you when he does come across you. His originally surface-level remarks become rather personal, even using your eventual death as a way to tease you. From "You know, I'm surprised you haven't done anything to change up that unflattering look, considering you're dying soon. Ever considered dressing up a little? You might get some attention before you die." to "Hey, Little Miss Inspector! With the number of men you talk to around campus, I'm surprised nobody's written you off as a whore yet!", and worse, of course. He continues to get no such reaction out of you, and it frustrates him to no end. Why couldn't you just frown? Shrink away? Or even retort something just as scathing back to him? Your lack of entertainment towards his endless ridicule reduced his motivation, and slowly, it ended up dying off. Soon, he left you alone altogether, not talking to you unless necessary, mimicking your actions. In a way, some part of him hopes maybe this will be what gets your attention. Even if he can't quite admit to himself that your attention, regardless of whether it's positive or negative, is what he wants.

It's late, but Vagastrom students don't go to bed until far later. And Leo needs a favor.

His crushing lack of success in garnering any sort of attention or reaction or rise from you had driven him to a point. He didn't want to apologize to you or anything, but this new habit of you ignoring him was beginning to stoke his displeasure. In his pondering, he remembered how easily Sho captured your gaze and wondered if maybe he'd have any idea of what Leo could do to at least put an end to this stalemate.

Leo's reluctance shows in the way he drags his feet on the path to Sho's room, less than eager to confront him for his opinion on something so shamelessly trivial. Why was he wasting his time with this anyway? Surprisingly, the lack of a solid answer to that question did not stop his trek. A twinge in his chest told him he knew exactly why he was "wasting his time".

In the month it had been since he'd made you cry, the nagging feeling had only gotten harsher. His mind kept flickering back to the shock of your tears and how he'd not bothered to consider it much further. An uncomfortable guilt had made itself known starting then. He never really expected you to cry; he just wanted a mild reaction. He wanted your eyes on him, flashing with anger, just for a moment. Your ire was a saccharine pill laced with ecstasy that he'd gladly crush with his teeth to speed up his high. Maybe it'd be too much to say he got off on it, but he enjoyed the way you used to roll your eyes at any comments from him a little more than he cared to admit. Now, he wouldn't even get that. It'd be rare for you to so much as make fleeting eye contact with him, not that something as small as that would be enough for Leo. Part of him was willing to accept that maybe, he'd gone too far. Maybe. But how else was he supposed to monopolize your attention when you give that out so freely? To his best friend, even?

He didn't know it was possible to covet something so terribly. He found himself wondering why he couldn't catch your attention in the same way as the other ghouls? In his quest for the same attention you gave so freely to the kinder, softer ghouls, he found another version of your attention. It was negative, but it was attention nonetheless. Your sweet, honeyed rage seemed to fill his cravings and then some, so he continued to devour it under the guise of "chasing you away" or "putting you down" or "satisfying his ego". In truth, for whatever reason, there was a rather bothersome and persistent envious longing, a covet, for your attention. Leo wants to vomit. A part of him denies it still, pushing his needless feelings to the back of his brain. He had something to do, and he ought to focus on that. What good would mere wallowing do?

He makes it to Sho's room and almost considers turning back. He stares at the door, his expression morphing into a complicated look. He shifted his feet, his slippers sliding against the floor. It was quite clear he really did not want to do this. At all. He sighs and grumbles indignantly, putting his head in his hands in an attempt to gather some courage. This couldn't be that hard, right? Just in, ask Sho a question, get an answer, then out. The only reason this was easier said than done was just because it could potentially show Leo was capable of feeling remorse, which would make this conversation leagues harder than it needed to be. He shakes his head and straightens up, preparing to knock, when he notices something.

Sho's room was... unusually quiet. Usually, Leo almost always heard some loud music or a cooking show running in the background, but he couldn't hear anything this time. Sho couldn't possibly be asleep. As late as it was, the only person who Leo knew for a fact could stay up past him was Sho, regardless of how much sleep he had gotten. There was no chance Sho was asleep. Believe it or not, Leo doesn't like to spy on Sho. But curiosity overwhelms him. What could he possibly be doing that would render the whole room in silence?

"Haxs," he whispers, listening closely.

The first thing he hears is the cling-clanging of Alan hard at work on a car in the garage. Not the sound he was meant to be focusing on. Then he hears endless jeering and loud insults shouted, though they're all muffled like they're underground. Another pit fight? Still, not the sound he's looking for. He sifts through the sounds he hears before he settles on the one coming directly from Sho's room.

Voices. Groaning, strained voices. The sound of wet skin against wet skin. Panting. Sho's panting, specifically. He could tell by the slight nasally tone of it.

Leo felt his face gradually warm. Christ, of course it'd be this he'd be up to. Leo muffles a laugh into the collar of his pajamas, keeping his hand clamped over his mouth as his body shook with mirth. When he finally calms down, he slinks off to the corner down the hall, and hides himself there, shamelessly still listening to it. Sho's a sly dog. Leo certainly didn't expect him to be getting up to anything this soon. He leans his body against the wall, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers on his arm, waiting for Sho to finish. He smirks to himself, as though enjoying the vocal show.

...

He had to admit, whoever he was with had gorgeous moans. He'd have to ask Sho if he'd be willing to pass this girl's number. He could use a couple things to get his mind off of you.

...

Okay, he had to stop listening to this now. He lifts his stigma and holds his hands over his ears for good measure, partially trying to hide the furious red blush across his face. As pretty as that girl's moans were, he was not going to listen to his best friend's climax. No thanks. He huffs out an impatient breath as his cheeks cool down, leaning his back against the wall, leaning his head back until it hit the wall with a dull thump. Now he just had to wait it out. He knew damn well Sho would never let a girl stay over. He'd never hear the end of it from yours truly, Leo.

Leo's right. It isn't long before he hears the door to Sho's room click, and hears murmured voices travel down the hall. He smirks, rushing down the hall in the opposite way, so it doesn't look like he was listening the whole time. He listens, waiting for a cue of some sort.

"Shame you have to go, you know." Sho's voice. Laced with relief, pleasure, and a thick tiredness. Leo's skin crawled. He could practically feel the smile in Sho's voice.

"It's not so bad." The girl responded with a light and playful tone, her voice seemingly much more put together than Sho's despite all that moaning. The voice sounded oddly familiar, but Leo brushed it off. Must be someone he shares classes with. "I've got things to do anyway. But it was nice to spend some time with you, Sho." Eagh. Leo internally hopes this girl isn't the type to get easily attached.

"...Yeah. Same to you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Finally, he heard the girl's footsteps trailing down the hall, heading in his direction. Leo hurriedly pulls his phone out of his pocket, making sure the screen was bright as he flipped through the latest trends. He made a point of not looking up until he heard the footsteps nearing him.

He looks up, prepared for a simple glance, but ends up being rooted to the spot.

It was you. Of course, it was you. Who else would be taunting enough?

Despite himself, his gaze remains glued to you, his head turning as you walk past him. For a moment, Leo thinks you're just going to ignore him again. Then, suddenly, your gaze meets his in a flash, and he stiffens, almost out of fear. The way your eyebrows crease and the way your lips twitch downward almost makes him salivate. You were clearly displeased to see him. Even so, he notices you don't slow down, continuing your way down the hall, not bothering to crane your neck to look at him.

Leo remains rooted to the spot, watching your figure as you leave. His jaw hangs open slightly, his chest heaving with shocked breaths. His eyes are wide open, pools of gold reflecting your retreating form. His hand trembles as he holds his phone, the latest trends left neglected in the wake of a single mean-spirited glance from you. He feels his heart pound mercilessly in his chest, as though confirming what he'd tried so desperately to deny.

All at once, anger and arousal seem to grip him simultaneously. Anger at himself for feeling arousal from a mere negative glance from you. He couldn't possibly have craved your attention so viscerally he'd happily accept mere scraps. And yet here he was, a lap dog, watching you as you leave as though silently begging for another glance, another chance to watch your eyes burn with that familiar, delicious anger, another meal to satisfy his starved heart.

For a moment, he would have gladly followed you, and pestered you to death, just to irk you and become a willing victim of your wrath. Anything... just for that attention.

a/n: wow. no stop why am i kind of in shock at the poetic lines i kinda think i did a great job! but 4 whatever reason it's always the writing i think was total shit that does actual numbers *sob*

aghhhh in any case. no i don't have an excuse 4 this. my requests are still technically closed. i just... couldn't help myself... so consider this a freebie. regardless though if u like my writing feel free 2 fill the fuck out of my inbox idnc i love hearing from y'all.

also TUMBLR KEEPS TURNING OFF MY REBLOGS!!!! GRAH!!!!!! tumblr hates me y'all they keep catching on2 me 4 writing porn :( so please if u really wanna show appreciation and tumblr won't let u reblog, leave a comment! those make me happy :)

anyways. usual note that i adore likes, comments, and tagged reblogs!! please tell me how much you like my writing, i love to hear it and it keeps me going! until next timeeeeeeee!

EDIT: I FORGOTTT QUICK EXPLAINATION: im assuming everyone knows pavlov's dog and the whole classical conditioning theory. this story is basically that mixed with the mere-exposure effect.

neutral stimulus: mc's presence

natural response: leo's arousal/excitement

response-producing stimulus: mc's anger

mere-exposure effect: psychological effect in which a like or dislike of things is developed merely due 2 familiarity.

#minors dni #tkdb #tkdb smut #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker smut #tokyo debunker x reader #tdb #sho haizono #leo kurosagi #sho haizono x reader #sho haizono x mc #leo kurosagi x reader #leo kurosagi x mc #tokyo debunker mc #tokyo debunker sho #tokyo debunker leo

70 notes · View notes

cece693 · 1 day ago

Note

hello^^ i have a slightly odd request

would you be willing to do something with Hannibal where like the reader is just off-putting constantly? like always has a blank expression and is just really morbid to the point of weirding out other people- (also whether or not reader is another killer and their relationship is up to you :]) ((and if possible could reader have an obsession with rats? if not its fine!^^))

thank you and no pressure!!! :3

Birds of a Feather (Platonic! Hannibal Lecter x GN! Reader)

Thanks for the request. Since you gave me creative liberty with what relationship the reader has with Hannibal, I'm expanding my creativity and trying to write platonic fanfics. Due to this, and my heart belonging to Hannigram, Will makes an appearance (not Abigail though, never got into her character.) Hope you enjoy it!

Hannibal Lecter had long believed himself immune to the bonds of familial connection. His life was one of solitude by choice, his relationships shallow performances for an unknowing audience. Yet with them—the peculiar, morbid teenager now under his guardianship—something had shifted. He hadn’t planned for this. He had taken them in because he saw a reflection of himself, unpolished and raw, with the potential to be something extraordinary. What he hadn’t anticipated was how deeply he would come to care for them, not as a mentor or an observer, but as a father.

They had first come to Hannibal at their parents’ insistence, dragged into his office under a banner of concern that barely masked their parents’ disdain. They hadn’t even tried to soften the language of their complaint: “They’re morbid. Obsessed with disgusting things like rats and death. They don’t have friends, they don’t smile. They’re weird. Can you fix them?”

Hannibal had known immediately what kind of parents they were—shallow, image-obsessed individuals for whom their child’s uniqueness was an inconvenience to be smoothed over, rather than a gift to be celebrated. He despised them almost as much as they seemed to despise their child. The teenager, however, had been fascinating. When Hannibal asked why they were there, they answered with a flat, emotionless voice.

"Because my parents don’t like me. They think I’m broken."

"And are you?" Hannibal asked, his tone warm, though his eyes studied them sharply.

They had tilted their head slightly, their gaze piercing and calm. "I don’t know. I don’t care if I am."

That first session had been an exercise in subtlety. Hannibal, as always, sought to probe beneath the surface, to see the layers of a person’s mind unfold before him. But with them, there were no layers—no artifice, no carefully constructed mask. They were disarmingly blunt, their morbid interests laid bare without shame.

"I like rats," they said when Hannibal asked what brought them joy. "I have nine of them. Bubonic’s my favorite."

"And why rats?" Hannibal inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"They’re smart. Loyal. They don’t care if you’re weird. They’ll eat a corpse if you leave it there, but it’s not personal. It’s just what they do. Survival instincts."

Their answers were a study in pragmatism, unvarnished and unfiltered. Over time, Hannibal learned more about their life—how their parents had ridiculed their passions, belittled their intellect, and dismissed their feelings as irrelevant. How they had found solace in the company of creatures most would find repugnant, and how they had begun to retreat into themselves, building walls not out of fear but out of indifference.

"My parents said they’d throw them out if I didn’t stop," they admitted one day, their voice betraying the faintest tremor. "The rats. They don’t like them. They don’t like me."

"And how does that make you feel?" Hannibal asked.

They paused, their blank expression unchanging. "I’d kill them if they touched my rats."

Hannibal had smiled faintly at that, sensing not a hollow threat but a declaration of what they believed was justice. Hannibal saw his relationship with the teen as one purely beneficial to him—some form of entertainment during the stagnant moment his life had fallen into. But when the teen arrived one day in session visibly shaken and on the verge of tears, Hannibal felt immense anger.

"Tell me what happened." he said, his voice calm but edged with steel.

The teen sat down at the chair and looked at their hands, fingers trembling. "My dad killed Bubonic," they said quietly. "He was going on again about how weird it was for a person my age to be such a recluse, how disappointed he was in me for not being the child he envisioned. I didn't care, I screamed at him to leave me alone. That all I needed was my rats, he didn't listen," They sputtered, tears finally escaping their eyes.

Hannibal's hands rested lightly on the arm of his chair, though his grip tightened imperceptibly as the teen’s words sank in. Their voice, typically steady and detached, was cracking under the weight of their grief, and Hannibal found himself unprepared for the surge of emotion it evoked in him.

"What did he do?" Hannibal asked, his voice gentle, though his mind already painted the scene in vivid detail.

The teen sniffed, struggling to steady their voice. "He grabbed Bubonic. Said if I loved those 'vermin' so much, then I’d learn what happens when I waste my life on them. He threw him. Against the wall." Their hands trembled in their lap, and then clenched into fists. "I couldn’t stop him. I tried, but I couldn’t—"

Hannibal interrupted softly, his voice firm yet soothing. "It is not your fault. Bubonic’s death lies entirely with your father. You mustn’t take the blame for his cruelty."

They nodded, though their tears continued to fall. For a moment, the room was silent, save for their quiet sobs. Hannibal remained perfectly still, his expression a mask of calm, though inside, a storm brewed. He had long mastered the art of restraint, of hiding the depths of his emotions behind a practiced façade. But now, the threads of that mask were straining.

His anger was not the fiery, impulsive kind that consumed lesser men. It was cold, methodical, the kind that calculated every step of its revenge with precision. He had no doubt about what he needed to do. Bubonic’s death was an affront to the teen’s spirit, an insult to their resilience and individuality, and Hannibal would not allow such an act to go unpunished.

He rose from his chair, moving to kneel in front of them, a gesture of rare intimacy. Gently, he placed a hand on their shoulder, grounding them. His touch was firm yet comforting, like the anchor they so desperately needed.

"You loved him," Hannibal said quietly. "And that love was real. It is not diminished by what your father did. Bubonic mattered, and his memory will not be forgotten."

They looked at him, their tear-filled eyes meeting his calm, steady gaze. For the first time, Hannibal saw a flicker of something beyond their usual detachment—trust, fragile and hesitant, but there. He gave them a faint, reassuring smile, careful to keep the rage simmering inside him hidden from view.

That evening, as Hannibal sat alone in his study, the weight of his decision settled over him like a second skin. He had already made up his mind; there was no room for doubt. The teen’s father was an unworthy man, cruel and petty, whose actions had irreparably harmed his child. The wife was not better, for who would allow such affronts to happen to your child? Hannibal would ensure neither had the opportunity to inflict such pain again.

The deaths were orchestrated with Hannibal’s usual elegance. The scene was staged as a tragic home invasion, violent enough to mislead even the sharpest investigators. The teen’s parents were swept away as easily as pawns on a chessboard, leaving Hannibal free to step into the role of guardian.

It was an arrangement he presented to the authorities as a matter of practicality—after all, he was their trusted psychiatrist, a respected member of the community. And with no other family member willing to take in the 'troubled' youth, Hannibal was seen fit as a caregiver. But in truth, it was far more than that. It was an act of reclamation, a way to give the teen a life they needed and deserved.

Under Hannibal’s guidance, they began to flourish. What had once been a life of isolation and condemnation was replaced with warmth, curiosity, and purpose. Hannibal nurtured their sharp intellect, encouraging them to explore philosophy, art, and science. He fed their fascination with decay and life cycles, finding ways to weave their morbid interests into lessons that expanded their understanding of the world.

Their rats, once crammed into a small cage hidden away from disapproving eyes, now thrived in a custom-built enclosure—a miniature ecosystem of tunnels and habitats that Hannibal had crafted himself. The teenager spent hours tending to them, speaking softly to each one as though they were old friends. Slowly but surely, they grew more confident, their once-detached demeanor softened by the security of knowing they were finally, unquestionably accepted.

So, when Will Graham entered their lives, Hannibal saw an opportunity to complete the family he hadn't realized he was building. At first, Will’s presence unsettled the teen. He was different from Hannibal—more empathetic, less polished. But there was something grounding about Will’s quiet intensity, his ability to understand without needing words.

Their relationship began cautiously, with the teen watching Will from the corner of their eye during his visits, studying him as though he were one of the rats they loved so much. But Will, ever patient, allowed them to come to him on their terms. Over time, the cracks of their tentative bond filled with shared silences and soft-spoken observations.

"You remind me of my rats," the teen said one day, tilting their head at Will as they sat together in the study.

Will blinked, unsure if it was meant as an insult. "How so?"

"You’re always watching. Thinking one step ahead compared to everyone else."

Will glanced at the teenager, amused. "I don’t know if I should be flattered or mildly offended."

They shrugged, their gaze steady and calm. "It’s a compliment. Rats are survivors. They’re smart, and they don’t waste energy pretending to be something they’re not. You’re like that."

Will leaned back in his chair, folding his arms thoughtfully. "Smart and a survivor, huh? Could be worse."

"Definitely worse," they replied, their tone so matter-of-fact that it made Will laugh softly. "You’d be terrible at being fake, anyway."

SMALL TIME SKIP

Hannibal leaned back in his armchair, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest as he observed the scene before him. It was a tableau of quiet intimacy—his beloved Will Graham, seated cross-legged on the floor, and the teenager sprawled out beside him, their rats darting around like tiny, mischievous shadows.

Will had one hand resting lightly on the floor to keep himself steady while the other hovered hesitantly near one of the rats. "So, uh," he began, his tone unsure but willing, "what happens if I try to touch it? Am I going to lose a finger?"

The teen smirked faintly, their usual neutral demeanor softening just enough to give away their amusement. "Maybe. Cholera’s got a temper, but the others are fine. You just have to be calm."

Will huffed a quiet laugh, his tension easing slightly. "Calm, huh? Should be easy enough."

"You’re always tense," the teen said bluntly, tilting their head as they watched him. "The rats can tell. You should probably breathe or something."

Hannibal’s lips curved into an indulgent smile at their candor. He adored how effortlessly they spoke their mind—so different from the guarded subtleties most people employed. And Will, bless his complex mind, seemed entirely charmed by it.

"I am breathing," Will retorted, his tone carrying a note of mock indignation. "Maybe I’m just…different from rats."

"That’s debatable," the teen quipped, though their smirk grew into something warmer as one of the bolder rats sniffed at Will’s hand before scampering up his arm.

Will froze, his eyes wide, and Hannibal chuckled softly. "It seems you’ve been accepted," he remarked, his tone rich with amusement. "An honor not given lightly, I assure you."

The teen nodded solemnly, as though Hannibal’s words were gospel. "Yeah. If Cholera likes you, you’re okay."

Will glanced between them, his lips twitching into a bemused smile. "Well, that’s a relief. I’d hate to be rejected by…Cholera."

The rat in question perched on Will’s shoulder, chittering softly, and the teen gave a rare, genuine laugh—a sound that caught both Will and Hannibal off guard. Hannibal’s chest swelled with warmth at the sight of the two bonding, the sharp edges of their respective personalities softening as they found common ground.

For Hannibal, this was more than he could have hoped for. Watching Will, the man who had captured his heart with his brilliance and empathy, and his ward, the child who had become the unexpected center of his world, grow closer felt like the culmination of something profound. He had orchestrated many things in his life, but this—this was pure serendipity.

Will, still adapting to the chaos of rats scurrying across him, glanced up at Hannibal. "You’re awfully quiet over there," he said, his voice light but curious. "Enjoying the show?"

Hannibal’s smile deepened, his eyes warm as they met Will’s. "Immensely," he replied. "It is rare to witness such harmony. You’ve both surprised me."

The teen, still laughing softly, looked between them and said, "You’re both weird, but I think that’s why this works."

Will raised an eyebrow, glancing at Hannibal. "Weird, huh? I guess I’ll take that."

"As will I," Hannibal added smoothly, his tone affectionate. "Weirdness, after all, is simply a deviation from the ordinary. And I would have no other way for our family."

The word hung in the air—family—and for a moment, all three of them sat in a comfortable silence. The fire crackled, the rats chittered, and the connection between them felt solid, unshakable. Hannibal, watching the two people he cared for most in the world bond so effortlessly, allowed himself a rare moment of unguarded happiness. This was it. This was home.

58 notes · View notes

namtanlovesfilm · 3 days ago

Text

burnout syndrome: everything we know & my guesses

since burnout syndrome seems to be in its very early stages of development, here is what we know & certain of my plot point guesses:

while the show is written by jittirain (who wrote theory of love), it does not come from one of her novels. it will therefore be an original script made for this series.

offgun must have had some details about doing this show for about 6 months, since off has worked out very intensely almost every day since then (since p'nuchie required it for this role), and it also coincides with gun saying that off would have a six pack next year. I believe offgun had a knowledge that their next show would be more mature & sexual, which is when p'nuchie got brought in, and I believe dew arrived later as the third one in the love triangle, around the same time jittirain signed on.

p'nuchie working with offgun again is surprising considering her previous treatment by gmmtv (cutting her budget repeatedly & not promoting not me at all despite p'nuchie being a big deal director), however it is not THAT surprising since not me was by far her most popular & mainstream project, and she has always had a soft spot for gun with whom she has worked repeatedly. she also seems quite close to off.

now, for the plot: we do not know any character's name or much about them at all, which is why this project really seems to still be in its infancy. I would not expect an early 2025 release... I think this will be an end of the year release à la not me & cooking crush.

gun seems to play a poor character compared to white in not me, while off plays a rich character compared to sean in not me... it's a role reversal! gun's character seems to be the struggling artist type, and an openly queer character. he's basically yok from not me (yes I'm keeping the not me comparisons bc there's a LOT!) he's down to do any odd job for money which is how he meets off's character. he seems quite daring & confident, while also a bit introverted & in his own world.

off's character definitely has todd vibes for me (and not just bc that pool kiss scene reminded me of the first toddblack confrontation lol). he seems to be a businessman but is very shady. he is described as a "bad boy" by emi's character, and he hires gun to be his "stand-in"... but he's still in the same room, dictating everything to him?? he says he doesn't like people, but what does it mean exactly? does he have a phobia of people? then in this case, why is he going outside so easily? all of these questions will be answered once the script will be fully written imo. I think that, just like not me, the mock trailer & final show will be very different but evoke the same vibe & characters. in any case, off's character is highly intriguing, he's clearly a red flag & kind of a weirdo, and I can't wait to know more!

next we have dew's character, who is a fortune teller? probably not as a job but as a hobby? (side note, I find it funny that so many gmmtv 2025 featured fortune tellers & psychics lol.) although I feel like choosing dew for the role bc they seem to make him want to seem a soft nerd against off's character who's possessive & rough is kind of a miscast bc since dew is SO tall he just doesn't give off these kinds of vibes imo, I'm quite interested in this love triangle. both dew & gun seem to like each other, and gun's tears when dew leaves are giving SERIOUS "in love" vibes. HOWEVER, gun's character definitely has a strong attraction for off & uses him as his artistic muse... the last quote of the trailer is "if one day he has a heart... I can love him, right?" indicating that off's character has shown gun that he has no heart but gun falls for him anyways... I JUST WANNA KNOW THE BACK STORY FOR THESE CHARACTERS SO BAD BC I KNOW IT'S GONNA HIT SO HARD!!! but to get back to dew, I really wanna know where he fits into this story, because...

this is almost guaranteed to be an offgun endgame. I say almost bc there's always the possibility of it being a poly endgame but let's be for real, I don't see dewoff having any chemistry lol (though they can surprise me, I didn't think dew would have romantic chemistry with gun either!) but the fact that offgun have been a stable ship for 9 years, that they came out on stage from a different platform than dew, the positioning in the poster... and also everything in the trailer indicates that they are endgame. I'm curious to see what happens to dew then though lol, we shall see.

I'm very curious about emi's role. she obviously played gun's sister in the trainee, and now she plays his best friend so she's now the only actor who has been featured in 2 offgun shows with sing, especially back to back lol! seeing how there's only 5 characters shown for now & she was in the main actors list alongside offgundew... I think she'll have a big role, but I have no idea what it can be. in any case, I stan!

lastly for the characters, we have thor, who I'm also really intrigued by. we know he works in burnout bar but WHAT is burnout bar? why do they match random people by numbers? does everyone who comes there needs to be burned out? as a background place for the show, this bar is interesting & reminds me of the one in the jungle (which also featured off!) I wonder if we'll see off in that bar, even though it's been established as dewgun's place in the mock trailer, it's too central to the story to keep its main character out of it for the whole show. I'm hoping thor has a bigger role than just the bartender lol.

in conclusion, a lot of things are very vague about this show, which is a bit frustrating bc I WANNA KNOW MORE, but also really nice bc it means that, compared to certain other shows from gmmtv 2025, we won't be spoiled most of the story by the trailer :) also I'm betting that they will add one or two other cast members, but they haven't written the show yet so all of the characters aren't fleshed out yet. anyways, I can't wait! 💚💚💚

EDIT: turns out I have more to say lol

so I was looking at the poster closely while editing my thumbnail for my gmmtv 2025 reaction video, and I noticed something:

the whole poster is in red tones: the background, the title, the lighting in their hair... and their clothes... EXCEPT for dew's shirt.

although this is just a mock poster & once again, the show will likely evolve once the script is written, the visual story telling of this poster is extremely interesting!

dew's shirt is light blue compared to the rest of the poster which is overwhelmingly red. blue represents calm and peace, which seems in line with the little we have seen from dew's character so far.

gun's shirt is pink. in terms of value, him & dew both have lighter colored shirts, but in different families. dew's blue is a cold color while gun's pink is a warm color.

now onto off, who has a dark red shirt. in terms of value, his is completely different from both dew and gun's, which also fits the little of his character we've seen. he is called a "bad boy" and "chaos" in this trailer after all, which fits the darker red color well. however, in terms of color family, off & gun are more in line bc they're both wearing a shade of red which is a warm color. since this show will clearly hinge on their sexual desire for one another, this makes sense. and since the poster unity is in the red, which IS the color of passion, sex, and violence, it is clear that offgun are the main pairing of this show, with off's hand on gun's head while dew is only passively touching gun by being close to him.

although red is the color of violence, I don't think there will be much physical violence in this show, as the trailer didn't hint for it at all. although I wouldn't be surprised we get a scene of off & dew sparring to stay in line with the classic bl love triangle tropes. though since dew is much taller than off, I wonder how they'd make it look like a fair fight lmao.

anyways, back to the poster. by having gun & dew's clothes in the same value which is light, as well as dew snuggling to gun's heart, we can infere that gun will first like dew. after all, we meet dew before off in the trailer, and it seems to be the same for gun's character. dew is the "good guy" in this show, the one that "makes sense", where things are "easy." however, his clothes ARE in a different color family as gun's. blue is calm, but it's also cold. which is why dew seems to be able to walk away from his job with off, and more importantly, gun, in the trailer.

but for off, whose clothes are darker than gun, showing his "bad" side, he is at least in the same color family as gun's. we see in the trailer that gun has a lot of sexual desire for off, which is clear with the drawing he does of him where off's genitals are OUT and he's touching himself:

side note - I'm gonna need the full nude scene to include the moment off touches himself while gun dies in a sea of desire bc I genuinely think this will be the peak of queer cinema. yok in not me said nude drawing isn't sexual? make it. please p'nuchie, make it sexual in burnout syndrome 🙏

second side note - damn they made off's waist so snatched in that drawing, I love it 😏

ANYWAYS to conclude: we have offgun showing so much more visual cohesion in this poster, which really makes me think this will not be a full love triangle (in a poly way) but a show where the logical suitor (dew) gets overtaken by the chaotic, messy one (off.) now, how are they going to make it make sense and make us root for the bad boy? idk & I CANNOT wait!

although I do think that having dew (light blue) and off (dark red) have some sort of gay scene together WOULD make sense, and it would even more make sense that they wouldn't work bc they're literal opposites in everything, creating even more stakes in the love triangle.

that's it, I've ruled out that I don't want a poly ship or any trio scene, I want offdew having hooked up in the past & it haunting them LMAO

#axelle rants #burnout syndrome #burnout syndrome the series #offgun #off jumpol #gun atthaphan #dew jirawat #emi thasorn #thor thinnaphan #gmmtv 2025 #nuchie anucha #this is a tired tirade bc this show got me so excited I can't sleep - if it makes no sense ignore lol

64 notes · View notes

smoochi-march · 2 days ago

Text

Sunkissed - Aloe

Fields of Mistria | March x F Reader

Summery | A flustered March get's accused of earning his fair share of sunburns, in reality, it may be a mixture of minor burns along with his inevitable embarrassment.

Warnings | Overly Fluffy!

Word Count | 2566

“…I’m convinced you have no clue what you’re doing.”

March grumbled and sat at his work desk begrudgingly with his usual scowl. Brows furrowed, he’d bite his lower lip impatiently. Stealing glances towards you, his knuckles digging into his cheek while leaning over his workstation inside, the space impressively tidy. Sat with his arm propped up on the top of his desk, allowing him a vision of you close by all while allowing him to hide his face easily.

“…and I’m convinced you have no faith in me.”

You’d argue playfully, sorting through several pieces of equipment in your bag. Tossing some odds n’ ends aside, clearly in search of something specific.

“I don’t… can I continue my work? If you haven’t noticed already, I have a routine that you’re interrupting.”

March hated waiting, how’d he end up here, to begin with? Why was it he could never argue against you? He had remained the very definition of all bark, no bite. With you specifically, and it frustrated him to no end. It was always you. You, you, you. He hated to admit it, but he was wrapped around your finger.

Before this whole situation, he had been hammering away at his station…

It was significantly brighter today where most would rush towards Mistria’s beach in their favorite swimwear. He didn’t have the time for that, however, no matter how much he desired to lay off the work and relax. It's not that he disliked his job, it was anything but that. Left with a stockpile of requests, the mass majority being boring small projects such as bolts and nails, that was the problem. Tools to sharpen, all basic level blacksmithing. At this point, he’s itching for a harder task, something to test his unmatched skills… all the trophies in his bedroom prove that fact is more than a self-claim.

“Good morning, March! I’m about to head out for the mines, is there any ore in specific you’d like? Copper? Iron? Silver?”

A familiar voice beamed from behind him, halting any further action as he snapped out of his previous thought process. He’d immediately recognize the voice, after all, it was you. You, you, you. How much he'd give to see that smile of yours by his side at night, not just these brief mornings before you part ways.

“Morning.”

He’d respond nonchalantly, lifting an arm to his forehead to block the incoming rays of sun from his eyes. Turning his body around, he’d noticed just how close in proximity you had been to him.

“W-What the hell?- what’re you doing?”

He’d lean back against the anvil, glaring at you as you’d suddenly lift both your hands to his cheeks. Delicate hands cradle his face sweetly, so light it could be mistaken for a pair of feathers brushing over his inflamed skin. He made several attempts to create some distance between the two of you, but you seemed insistent on whatever you had intended to do. Your eyes analyzing him closely,

“…have you been working all morning? You’re pink.”

Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, so close he could feel your breath fan against his face. Further fanning the flames beneath his skin,

“Of course I was. Is there a problem with that?”

You’d raise your chin with furrowed brows, you always were the one unafraid of their expression, huh? He'd catch himself on these thoughts, clearing his throat to focus on the initial task.

“Yeah. You shouldn’t be working outside in this heat, look… you’re burning up!”

He’d turn his head away, only for your hand to guide him back to face you once more. Glaring daggers at you only to lose that sharp gaze, faltering, he’d let out a defeated sigh. Eyes closing before shifting to relocate anywhere but in your own, when have you gotten so beautiful? Or perhaps you always have been. Either way, he’d allow you to follow through with your concerned actions, not without his grunts or grumbles of disapproval. You knew better than to trust his words, his body language giving him away.

He may end it all if a single person catches wind of this interaction,

March was used to experiencing higher elements of heat, ignorant towards the clear sign of his skin losing its battle against the sun. So caught up in his work, he now had your hands brushing over his cheeks, before lowering down his neck... trailing towards his shoulders, and lifting his arms for him to take note of his burns.

"March, look. Please? You're burnt."

You'd realize your words may have been too firm, softening quickly after to smooth over any misunderstanding. He always took care of himself, his brother, and those around him. But found himself needing the help this time,

"You're making this a bigger deal than it has to be, you act like you haven't had a burn in your time working on the farm."

Sparing you a disapproving look, he'd then take in the true tenderness you held. He didn't mean to concern you, he'll have to take better care of himself to avoid you getting in a position like this again... Your eyes glimmer, only to be overcome by a passing cloud beneath the sun. Your face naturally flushed as a response to the heat, those lips of yours so close and parted ever so slightly. Drawing him in.

"Get inside, I'll be back."

Your thumbs gently caress his skin absentmindedly, hesitating to let go, he'd notice this. Hesitant to pull away as well, the couple now staring away from each other bashfully, unable to let go. They were left at a stalemate.

He's unsure exactly how long he stood there with you in silence, being the one to wear his signature frown.

"What about your trip to the mines?"

You'd raise a brow, tilting your head as you step away from him. Pivoting on your foot, hiding your expression from his gaze. He then could notice how your hands clasp each other behind your back, fidgeting nervously. What caused this anxiety? Was it him? The idea of work?

"It can wait, be right back! You better be inside once I've returned, if I catch you breathing next to that anvil of yours I'll nag you all summer."

March rolled his eyes, using the spare back of his hand to feel the warmth in his cheeks. It may have started as sunburns, his sun-kissed skin is rosy like the flowers you had first-ever gifted him when you situated in town... but you were certainly more dangerous than the sun ever was.

"...you already do."

He learned to love that about you.

"Ah ha!"

You'd exclaim with a sense of accomplishment, lifting yourself and waltzing towards March who behaved like an unimpressed teenager. Eye scanning over your body, landing on the tiny bottle in your hand.

"What is that?"

This question wouldn't receive an immediate answer. Watching you squeeze the bottle, popping the cap off... a green gelatin substance now pressed against your palm.

"Aloe Vera. I bought some the other day from Balor,"

Before he could speak, you'd ask another question. He didn't hear what you said. Lost in his world the closer you got, it was pathetic. Biting back his tongue, he'd nod his head to whatever you said. Gaining a smile in return, you'd rub your hands together, spreading the Aloe in your hands. Soon reaching to grasp his face again, making him flinch at the cool temperature.

"-I thought you'd put up more of a fight, y'know. I appreciate it, March. You know... for all you do at the forge for Mistria."

Voice rendering as uncharacteristically mother-like, his eyes shut with ease. Finding pleasure in your fingers working the aloe into his skin, rubbing his cheeks in a circular motion. His face had begun to cool down in a matter of seconds,

"Don't mention it, there's no need to concern yourself over trivial matters like a slight burn."

March huffed, eyes fluttering open when he'd feel your motions stop at the bridge of his nose, upon hearing his words. He couldn't tell whether or not he enjoyed the contrast in temperature, a battle between the soothing gel against his flustered face.

"Your health is not trivial. Take that back, ...Idiot."

You'd playfully pinch his cheek, making him hiss in pain, and smack your hand away from his face lightly.

The tingling sensation of Aloe is evident as ever on his skin, this felt strangely... intimate. He's had Olric help him apply sunscreen when he was young where he couldn't reach, but, never a woman so generously offered to ease his pain... he still didn't believe it was important, still allowing you the satisfaction in helping.

"Tch. Yes ma'am."

The small talk would come to a close, his eyelids weighing down. He'd feel your body shift next to him. Their hands met his broad shoulders, beginning to massage them with newly applied gel. Small groans escaping the man, fuck it felt good. Your hands were like magic, his body melting at your wake, finely shaped like putty in your hands. His tension was immense, you wished nothing more than to help. Stretching out his muscles, You were no professional, but he enjoyed your actions thus far.

The silence was comfortable, time slowing with each pressure applied by your steady hands.

“This should help with your recovery, want me to leave the Aloe with you? I’m sure you could use it for future use.”

Your voice fissured a crack in the silence, bringing a smile to his face. Faint, a mere ghost of what it could be. Hidden from your sight,

“Sure.”

March would hear you hum in response, tilting her head back in an attempt to make eye contact with you. Only for those eyes to widen with your face hovering directly above his. Both party’s eyes were wide, unable to look away from the other this time. The way your hands were situated on his bare shoulders, your face hovering above his… it all felt right. Tilting his head further back, he’d raise an arm. His hand makes its way to your cheek, hesitant, but progressive.

“…why go through all this trouble?”

March's voice held a share of his vulnerability, an expression masked behind his nonchalant attitude for far too long. Here, marks the beginning of an end. Or, so the two of you can hope. Old habits are a tough pill to swallow, to process, and to accept. To embrace.

“Trouble? I see no trouble in supporting the one I…”

You’d begin, struggling to continue your original sentence. Was this going a step too far?

“-the one you..?”

He’d inquire, no sign of his previous smile. Rubbing it off to hide beneath a mask once more, unable to express himself openly to you comfortably.

March’s attempt to lower his hand from your cheek results in failure, due to the grasp of your hand on top of his. Holding it in place, your eyes shimmering like the beautiful jewels you’d donate to the museum…

“The one I care for, of course.”

March felt his heart flutter, observing how your body language evolved. His hand trapped against your cheek, he couldn’t help but feel a subtle blush rise to his face. The aloe stood no chance of keeping him cool at this rate,

“I- I see.”

Silence.

He couldn’t bear it much longer, unsure whether or not they had been crossing the line between comfortable silence or a tense air.

You couldn’t help but press your cheek deeper within the palm of his hand, it was large, calloused, and long due for an easy day's work. Something you were capable of granting him if only he’d allow it.

“I like you.”

What?

“Like, I like you, March.”

It was all so sudden he could hardly process all you had said. Silenced by your lips that pressed themselves against the back of his hand. It was as if his eyes were opened, he watched as all the colors surrounding them became significantly more vibrant. Hyper aware of the position you put them in.

The unwillingness to leave him be, despite such a common injury… the lack of materials on hand to venture through the mines in your bag. Had this been your intention all along? Did you lie about the mines? Using it as a segue to get closer to him? He’d never experienced such a scene. Not just anybody was confessing, no, it was far greater. It was…

You.

“T-Think about it, kay’?”

You’d lend him a toothy grin, your blush rivaling his burnt cheeks. You had finally done it, you confessed to him. With all the anxiety rushing through your veins, you brush his bangs out from his eyes, feeling his thumb caress your cheek you forced him to hold. His expression was more visible than ever before, no longer safeguarded beneath his bangs, all due to how he sat on his stool, neck craned back as he looked up at you from a flipped perspective.

“…say that again?”

His voice was quiet, uncertain. However, you wrote that off as your imagination. Your eyes admire his body, the way his skin shines after your massage, the Aloe glistening with each curve of his muscle. His fluffy red hair lost some of its color while the black roots made themselves clear, he'd no doubt dye them again this coming Saturday.

“I like you, March.”

Following through with his request as you would any other time,

“…again.”

Again. He requested, and you delivered. A gentle smile permanently embedded on your face, allowing his hand to fall from your cheek.

“March, I like you-“

Willing to stroke his ego, you wrap your arms around him. Leaning against his back, your chin resting on his shoulder, not applying too much pressure. Worried you may harm him by pressing on the burns,

"If this is a joke, I swear I-”

He’d grumble, feeling you rest your head aside against his. Listening to the comforting sound of your breathing, losing the ability to speak.

“…of course not. For someone as confident as you are in your achievements, you sure are insecure. Not that I mind, I'll remind you that nobody holds a candle to you March...”

Following your words with proof of your legitimacy, you’d sneak your way closer to his body, your breath brushing against his cheek sending a shiver down his spine. You begin pressing your lips against his sun-kissed cheek, a featherlike attack directed toward his heart.

"...Y-you aren't so bad yourself. I guess... no, you're actually... never mind, forget it. Quit it, we'll never hear the end of it if somebody walks in on us." He'd find the strength to press a hand against your face, forcing your lips off his body, tensing up as you'd soon follow his words up with a hushed whisper in his ear. "-Can we take this to your bedroom then? if the idea of getting caught is all that concerns you..."

You'd ask genuinely, laughing as he'd struggle to look in your direction. Feeling as if you'd tighten your embrace around him, returning your nose back in the crook of his neck.

"...shut up."

Neither of you would say a word afterward, basking in each other's presence. Whether it was by choice, or you rendered the inexperienced blacksmith speechless. You were confident he liked you too, despite not saying it verbally.

#fields of mistria #march fom x reader #fom march #fom #fields of mistria march

36 notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 9 hours ago

Note

hii there!! this is my first request ever— so sorry if its bad and u dont need to do if id you’re uncomfortable ofc :)) ive had to leave people whom i thought were good friends many times, or ive been abandoned by them and its happened again recently—

so may i ask that you write something with either aventurine or dan heng (u can pick one or both) seeing the reader in their room in the aftermath of having to leave another friend or group of friends? the scenario i have imagined is that the reader is also feeling alot worse than usual since they are starting to feel that they might be the problem. theyre crying about it in their room where the other hears them and comes to check the reader out of worry. the reader talks to them about it and the other comforts them and promises that they wont have to worry about having to leave or being abandoned by them.

so sorry if thats an odd, specific request 🥹🥹 i adore ur writing and i thought it would be cool to ask!! feel free to change anything as you see fit :)

“You Are Not the Storm”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Reassurance, can be read as platonic or romantic.

Warnings: Mentions of loneliness and self-doubt, Emotional distress and crying, Themes of abandonment and self-blame.

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear that, anon 😕 i totally get where you're coming from, I had to leave a friend too because of personal reasons and this has happened to me throughout my life, so I totally understand you. I'll be your friend if you'd like. Hope you like this!

The room was quiet save for the muffled sound of sobs. The soft light of the moon filtered through the blinds, casting silvery streaks across the floor. You sat on the edge of your bed, head buried in your hands, your shoulders shaking. The hurt was raw, cutting deeper this time. The thought repeated in your mind like a cruel mantra: Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the problem.

A quiet knock came at the door. You barely registered it, lost in your spiral. Then the door opened gently, and a familiar voice called your name.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Aventurine’s voice was soft but carried an undercurrent of concern. His eyes were filled with worry. He leaned casually against the doorframe, trying not to overwhelm you with his presence. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. That’s unlike you.”

You sniffled, quickly wiping at your face. “I’m fine,” you lied, though your broken voice betrayed you.

Aventurine tilted his head, his hair catching the moonlight. “You don’t look fine, darling. And I don’t like hearing you cry.” He stepped into the room, crossing the space between you in a few strides before kneeling in front of you. He reached out, but his touch was tentative, giving you space.

You hesitated but eventually let the words spill out. “I had to leave again. Another friend, another group… It keeps happening. And I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why am I always the one who ends up alone?”

Your voice cracked, and tears welled up again. Aventurine reached out, this time cupping your hands in his gloved ones. His expression softened, his usual flamboyant charm replaced with a rare sincerity.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Listen to me. This—what you’re feeling—it’s not because you’re flawed. People come and go in life for a thousand reasons. Sometimes, it’s not about you at all. And sometimes… people just don’t see the brilliance that’s right in front of them.”

You shook your head, your doubts still gnawing at you. “But what if it is me? What if I’m too much? Or not enough?”

Aventurine gave a small, sad smile and squeezed your hands. “You’re enough. And anyone who makes you feel otherwise doesn’t deserve you in their life.” His eyes gleamed, his usual playful confidence creeping back in. “Besides, have you considered that maybe you’re just too fabulous for them to handle?”

Despite yourself, a faint chuckle escaped your lips, and Aventurine’s smile widened. “There we go. That’s better. Now,” he said, sitting beside you and throwing a casual arm over your shoulder, “let me make one thing clear. I’m not going anywhere. I’m stubborn like that. You’re stuck with me, darling.”

You leaned against him, letting his warmth and words sink in. For the first time that night, the weight on your chest eased, just a little.

Dan Heng stood outside your room on the Astral Express. He’d been walking by when he heard the faint sound of crying. At first, he thought it best to give you space, but his worry won out. Quietly, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.” you said, your voice weak.

Dan Heng stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. You sat curled up on your bed, clutching a blanket tightly.

“I heard you,” he said simply, standing a short distance away. “Are you… okay?”

You shook your head, and Dan Heng took a cautious step closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitated before nodding, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I’ve had to leave my friends again. I feel like I ruin everything. Like I’m the problem.”

Dan Heng was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, his posture calm and unthreatening. “I don’t believe that. You care deeply about others—that much is clear to anyone who knows you. Losing people hurts, but it doesn’t mean you’re to blame.”

Tears streamed down your face. “But it keeps happening. How can it not be my fault?”

Dan Heng looked at you with quiet intensity. “Because sometimes, people grow apart. Or circumstances force things to change. It’s painful, but it’s not always within your control.” His voice softened. “You don’t have to carry all that blame alone. And you don’t have to worry about me leaving. I’ll stay by your side, no matter what.”

His words settled over you like a soothing balm, and you felt yourself relax slightly. Dan Heng reached out, his hand hovering before gently resting it on yours. “Take your time,” he said. “I’m here.”

And you believed him.

32 notes · View notes

alwaysthefool · 2 days ago

Text

House of Horrors (x Xavier)

Tags: Comfort, action, MC Reader, GN Reader

Warnings: scary, long, violence mention

Synopsis: You see just how much Xavier tries to keep you safe during and after a mission.

Happy late Halloween 🎃?

This one was meant to be a solo mission, and Xavier, though he would always come with you if he knew, was deployed elsewhere. The circumstances surrounding the mission were odd; firstly, Jenna was on a break so it was handed to you by the robots in charge, and secondly, this was unlike any mission you’d had before.

Some tourists went missing after booking a house for their stay, and the investigation team reported strange happenings in the house, outside the gambit of police as it seemed to have something to do with Wanderers. Things weren’t too busy in Linkon either so it was confusing as to why you had to handle it alone. Nonetheless, you didn’t want to bother Xavier, so you informed Nero and Tara that you’d be going alone.

Although, as you parked your car in the driveway of the western-style , secluded from the bustling city and dark already at 6PM, you felt an urge to text Xavier, frowning when you noticed there was no service in the area, and even your hunter’s watch wasn’t functioning. That should have been your first cue to leave, but you were informed this was typical— which is where your evol would come in handy in checking for metaflux fluctuations.

Plus, in the house’s and probably your defense, it was well maintained from the outside and there were functioning CCTVs, just secluded. The tourists wouldn’t have suspected anything wrong, it was just the knowledge and silence thereafter that scared you.

You turned to open the electronic lock with the code given to you, but the door creaked open by itself.

I have a gun, you reminded yourself, heading inside.

The living room was covered in police tapes, the vintage furniture covered in plastic. You felt around the dark room for the light switch, but upon turning it off and on, it seemed to be non-working. You expected that too, so you relied on your torch.

It almost felt like ghost-hunting as you walked around the eerie house feeling for any hint of metaflux, your heart rate increasing for no apparent reason. Although your watch couldn’t sense Metaflux or send any signals, it depicted your blood pressure as ‘extremely high’, advising you to sit down. Given your syndrome, you should have, but you only had the basement left.

You climbed down the first floor, back to the living room, feeling something amiss, as if something had moved, or was different from before. You were also certain you left the front door open, but it was now shut. You chalked it off, pulling out your gun, as you found the door to the basement.

You knew it’d be dark, but even with the torch, you could barely see the stairs. You carefully took your first step down when the door behind you slammed shut.

Fuck.

The only way now was further down.

And with what you could hear, there was definitely something else there.

You gulped, every step a screeching creak, the scent of rot hijacking your nose. You didn’t dare use your peripheral vision, or look behind you for you were sure something was surrounding you. When you reached the floor and shone your flashlight, there was nothing to be seen. Quite literally, no light penetrated the basement, from where, amidst the terrorising feelings of fear and dizziness, you sensed it.

A Wanderer.

You couldn’t shoot shots into the dark, neither could you go back up, so you took a single step into the dark, trying to rely on your other senses.

Terrible idea. The logical voice in your head spoke.

You felt something grab your ankle in the pitch dark, dragging you at high speed. You let out a scream, hastily reaching for your gun which was knocked out of your hand by something sharp.

“Let me go!” You screamed, pushing at whatever held you. It lifted you up by the foot but you managed to land a shot somewhere on it, making it let you go. You fell face first, terrified, scrambling, reaching for where you dropped your torch, the only hint of light in the room. You managed to reach the basement steps, before being tripped and pulled back.

“Xavier!” You cried, your hand holding on the floorboard with dear life. You didn’t know why you called for him of all people, at the darkest moment of your life too. Your heart pleaded for him to be somewhere close by, regretting not taking him with you, hoping he’d be his stubborn self and look for you anyway.

“I’m here.” He replied, his strong hand taking yours and drawing you into the light. He pulled you safely behind him, his evol lighting up the basement. The Wanderer howled at the light, trying to hide in corners, behind the dryer, but Xavier was onto him within seconds, blazing sword slicing him into dust. With a final screech, the being fell, leaving only a Protocore behind.

Xavier let it fall to the floor, rushing back to you, holding you tightly in a protective hug. You held him back, scared, crying on his chest, letting down how brave you had tried to be.

“You’re here.” You sobbed, and he stroked your hair, shushing you gently, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re hurt.” He pulled away to look at your face in concern. You noticed his white coat covered in blood, and wondered what a mess you must have been looking like. Xavier carried you in his arms, outside, to the car, and although the Wanderer was gone, you did not dare look at the house, choosing to bury your head in his neck instead.

You were taken to the nearest hospital, doctors taking you to a bed to examine the wounds. Xavier decided to give you privacy, but you held his hand, not able to say you needed him with you. He sat beside you, squeezing your hand back, silently reassuring you he’d stay with you. His face never left yours as you were covered in small bandages. Your ankle was also dislocated, but luckily you didn’t sustain any other major injuries.

Xavier took you home, listening to the doctors and buying your medicines on the way back, and it broke your heart as you reached your front door, where you knew his hand would finally leave yours.

“I’ll be up if you need anything.” He spoke softly. You could tell he wanted to scold you for not informing him where you were going before, but you were already visibly traumatised to the point you let go of all shame and almost pleaded to him, your face a sure mess with puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Xavier looked at you with care and love, giving you a gentle nod. “Then I’ll stay with you for as long as you need.”

You nodded, allowing him to go get his things while you showered and got rid of the blood on your face. You were right, you did look filthy. If it was anyone else, would they have put up with your clinginess? Maybe Xavier just had a lot of patience.

Showering felt like a terrifying task, you having to constantly watch for any sounds or discrepancies, even looking into the mirror afterwards feeling difficult.

Thankfully, Xavier was already outside, with dinner on the coffee table. You practically ran to him, and he was more than happy to pull you into a hug. Although he’d never done it before, he kept you on his lap, turning on the TV to your favourite comfort movie.

“Thank you.” You rested your head on his chest, accepting when he fed you popcorn with his hand. He laughed at that.

“This is the first time you’re the one being clingy to me.”

“I’m being clingy?” You lifted your head up, eyes droopy. Xavier pulled you in his embrace again immediately. “But I like it.”

“Get used to it,” you leaned into him more, snuggling as he wrapped a blanket around the two of you. “Because I’m never going on a mission without you again.”

#love and deepspace #lnds x reader #lnds xavier #xavier x you #lads x reader #xavier x mc #l&ds x reader #angst #comfort #headcanons #fanfiction #short fics #horror

31 notes · View notes

heresthestorymorningglory · 10 hours ago

Text

Boys in Bars - Part 2

Hi Babes! :D Me again....you guys absolutely blew up the first part of this which I wasn't expecting so like thank you?? 😭😭😭

As I mentioned before never say never….this one’s a love I’ve had for…20 odd years and comes clad in yellow spandex….

Another one that was meant to live in the WIP and has taken on a life of its own...

I've had some wicked writer's block but my @ken-dom has still been mad encouraging and I love her dearly for it. Without her none of these would exist much like everything I’ve written over the last year and a half.

As always, this NSFW 18+

We've got plans this man and I

Y'all should know by now I rarely post one shots…..so yeah, this will be multiple parts….I’m just not sure on the final tally yet.

Enjoy my loves! <3

You locked the door with a sigh, turning off the open sign. You turned on your heel, making your way back to where Logan sat, leaned back against the bar, watching.

“What?” You asked, slowing your steps

“C’mere” he jerked his head and you shook yours.

“N-no” you spoke quietly

You had spent a majority of your shift mercilessly teasing him and now the bar was closed and it was just the two of you…and you had a sickening sense of deja vu.

“Why not?” He mused, getting to his feet. He hadn't drank as much as he usually does and you were starting to understand why.

“I don't want to” you pressed your lips together before dropping your gaze.

You could sense him moving closer, the heavy footfalls of his work boots. You swallowed hard as his feet appeared in front of yours.

He was quiet, you were both quiet, and unmoving.

His hand reached to grip your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him.

You swallowed hard a second time as he started to walk you backwards.

You gasped as your back hit the wall and he didn't stop, closing the distance between you.

Your heart hammered in your chest when he stopped, lips mere millimeters from yours.

Fingers flexed against your jaw and you let out a shaky breath, struggling to find your voice.

“What’s the matter?”

You shook your head as much as his grip would allow. “N-nothing”

He simply hummed, the hand holding your face, moving to run a finger over your cheek; your face instantly flushed a deep red. The gentleness of his touch putting you on edge.

“You think you can spend the night taunting me?” He asked, his voice low, even, and calculated. “Teasing me?”

You watched as he dropped his hand, a single claw slowly appearing from between his knuckles.

“Logan-” you whispered, voice barely audible; the memory coming screaming back and you fought the urge not to go rigid.

“I'm waiting” he said sternly, his exposed claw dragging along the thin fabric of your t-shirt as he slowly dragged it down the centre, but not enough pressure to peirce fabric…not yet.

Another hard swallow and you shook your head; your eyes fixed on the single blade as it came to rest between your cleavage, Logan having dragged it back up the middle.

He retracted it back under his skin without a word, but didn’t move. He was still close…too close, crowding your space, doing it on purpose; knowing you could feel the heat radiating off his body. He moved to cup your cheek in his hand, instinctively you leaned into his touch, your eyes slipping closed as you felt your knees falter. Finding it very difficult to take a full breath.

“Log-” you started again, cut off mid breath by a bruising, demanding kiss.

You let yourself be pinned against the wall, thankful for something sturdy as his lips moved against yours; taking a deep breath in through your nose, and in spite of yourself, you couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped from between your mouths as you felt his hand push under your hair at the back of your neck; his fingers tangling in the strands.

He pressed against you, his free hand finding your hip, squeezing hard.

You whined against his mouth and he seized the opportunity, slipping his tongue between your lips with a moan himself.

Your head was spinning, if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you were drunk.

He tasted just like you remembered; whiskey and stale cigars. Something on any other night you would be repulsed by, but not with Logan…never with Logan…ever.

Finally, you got a grip on yourself, pushing him back gently; very aware of one hand on the nape of your neck, the other tucked up under your t-shirt. His shoulders were warm under your hands as you caught your breath and attempted to focus.

“We can’t-” you breathed

“Sure we can,” he countered, his breathing just as heavy and laboured as yours before his lips crashed against yours a second time.

Your mouth moved against his briefly before you pried your lips from his, reluctantly, taking a much needed breath. Logan simply moved his assault to your exposed neck, his warm, wet tongue gliding over your overheated skin before his teeth sank into the sensitive flesh; making your knees buckle as you gasped against his ear, his strong arm sliding around your back to keep you upright.

“Fuck, Logan” you whimpered as he sucked hard on your now marked flesh.

He hummed against your neck with approval, fingers on both his hands curling against your skin.

Your own teeth sank into your bottom lip as you fought to keep your composure.

“Not here” you whispered, finally releasing your lip

He laughed light and breathy against the shell of your ear, making your shiver “Yes, here” he whispered against the shell of your ear “You think you’re going to tease me all night like that and I’m not going to fuck you on every flat surface in this place?”

His emphasis on the word ‘fuck’ sent goosebumps over your skin and your breath caught in your throat.

“That’s a lot of surfaces” you whimpered feeling his fingers toy with the waistband of your skirt

“And once we’re done down here,” he continued, his teeth scraping against your earlobe. “I’m going to take you upstairs, and fuck you on every flat surface up there too”

Your heart slammed against your ribcage as you attempted to squeeze your thighs together; unsuccessfully as the hand on your hip shot like a flash between your legs, keeping them spread apart.

“Ah ah” he chuckled lightly, his eyes finally meeting yours

You knew you were flushed, and you knew he could smell the fear emanating from you; but you also knew he could smell the arousal too

“Logan…” you warned, trying your damnedest to sound intimidating and failing miserably.

He stepped back, dropping both his hands to his sides; his eyes raking over your form.

“One,” he counted and you cocked your head slightly as he smirked

“Two…” he continued

You stepped out of your black pumps, dropping your height a good three inches, with a smirk of your own before you tore around him toward the back of the bar, toward the kitchen as he continued counting over your shoulder.

Five seconds, if he was feeling generous…three if he wasn’t….

This was all part of the little game you had found yourself a part of; one you had suggested initially, on a drunken night that seemed like it was ages ago. Count to ten you had told him, ten seconds head start and if he had found you, he would be rewarded.

Now, instead of ten seconds, you got five….and he hunted.

Immediately through the door, you dropped out of sight and maneuvered your way around the dark kitchen. Within seconds, the same door you had come through, swung open a second time; Logan’s form looming in the darkness. You quieted your breathing as you watched his eyes scan the dark room. He stepped forward, boots landing heavily as he did, making the floor verberate under your now bare feet.

Your heart beat hard in your ears as you slipped around one of the small tables, keeping him in sight, his back to you, but you still moved slow and quiet; for every step he took deeper into the kitchen you took back toward the way you had come.

He had expected you to hide, he always expected you to hide.

Your eyes adjusted slowly, making it easier to see, but you knew if it was becoming easier for you, it was becoming easier for him too.

“I can smell you” he declared to the silent room

You pressed your lips together, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to ignore the throbbing ache between your thighs. His promises echoing in the back of your mind.

Every. Flat. Surface.

You watched as he moved toward the very back of the kitchen, and you quickly got to your feet and tip toed as swiftly as you could manage, back through the double doors. Logan’s footfalls were heavy behind you for a fraction of a second before they went silent again, but he hadn’t followed you out.

You clocked the narrow staircase a few feet away from your place behind the bar. Your apartment was your goal, if you made it there, you won. He was still in the kitchen if you moved fast you could- You gasped quietly, dropping to the floor as the doors swung gently. Now he stood between you and your exit.

The bar was darker than usual, you wondered if there was no moon out tonight as you crouched, silently making your way around the front of the bar, stopping before giving yourself away.

He clicked his tongue with disapproval and you stayed rooted to your spot…hoping he would go the way you’d come.

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard the unmistakable scrape of metal on wood. He was slowly making his way to the other end of the bar, dragging his claws as he went. You had a clear path from where you crouched to the stairs, all you had to do was outrun him.

You stood to your full height and ran for the stairs as if your life depended on it.

Your foot just missed the bottom step before a strong arm wrapped around your middle, a hand collapsing over your mouth as he snarled “I win” in your ear, dragging you back toward the bar.

He turned you to face him, both hands gripping your hips none too gently as he pushed you back against the wall, making the liquor bottles on the nearby shelf rattle dangerously. His mouth claiming yours for a fraction of a second before he yanked your t-shirt over your head, dropping it at your feet.

You had given up trying to protest, throwing your arms around his neck as he lifted you off your feet, guiding your legs around his waist.

You practically melted into the wall, letting his weight support you fully as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth.

Your fingers pushed through the thick strands of dark hair at the back of his head as you moaned shamelessly against his mouth.

His hips rolling forward, intentionally grinding the bulge hidden under his jeans against your core.

You arched your back as much as he would allow, head hitting plaster as you threw your head back with a cry towards the ceiling.

Logan growled with approval as his teeth scraped over the length of your throat, rolling his hips a second time, this time slower, more deliberate.

“Fuck,” you grit your teeth “L-Logan”

His breath was hot and heavy against your ear as he chuckled lightly “Don't worry, I plan too”

In spite of yourself, a whimper tumbled from your lips.

“But,” he leaned back slightly, pulling your legs free of his midsection, hand still firmly on your hip. “Not right now”

You blinked, processing his words as he leaned back slightly.

“W-what?”

“You heard me” he smirked, his free hand disappearing up under your skirt, his calloused fingers teasing the inside of your thigh.

You jumped slightly with a gasp as they were replaced by metal, cold against your skin before it disappeared, his fingertips ghosting over the fabric of your panties. “Not right now” He repeated, his voice cool and even.

As fast as it had appeared, his hand dropped from between your legs, but not before his middle finger pushed firmly against that throbbing bundle of nerves and he turned on his heel, leaving you leaning against the wall to collect yourself.

“LOGAN!’ You nearly shrieked and he stopped mid-stride halfway between you and the front door, but he kept his back to you.

“What?” His deep voice amused at your obvious frustration. “Something wrong?” He taunted, echoing your own words back at you.

You clenched your teeth together, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek as he stood stationary.

“I can't stay,” he said simply “I've got things to do…”

You glared at the back of his head “It's two o'clock in the morning, what the fuck could you possibly have to do?!”

“Not fucking you seems to be at the top of that list” he mused, turning back to face you. “Seems to be the thing that would piss you off the most”

You took a sharp breath in through your nose and he laughed again.

“Unclench your jaw babe, it's not a good look”

“You're not doing this to best me” you finally spoke, but keeping your voice quiet.

“Oh no?” He cocked an eyebrow curiously

You shook your head

“Then why am I doing it?” He asked, arms folding over his broad chest

“Because you're scared,” you challenged, finally moving away from the wall and moving toward him slowly as you continued “You've got some deep seated fucked up trauma that you don't talk about because God forbid you let someone in”

His eyes narrowed as you came to a stop, a few feet from where he stood. “Stop”

“Did I hit a nerve?” You cocked your head slightly, still aware you were in nothing but your skirt and a bra. “Or a memory?” you whispered

“Don't” he snapped, the warning clear in his voice, but still you pushed

“Ooh, the dark brooding angry side, like I haven't seen that before. You rolled your eyes. “Come on Logan,” you laughed “You and I both know you're a walking fucking disaster, the screaming nightmares night after night, your drinking problem….other problems”

As you continued, he clenched his hands into fists and you could see the flash of his white teeth in the darkness, the tips of his claws glinting in the moonlight.

Despite your heart slamming in your chest, you somehow managed to keep your voice even.

“Don't even get me started on those” you bit, glancing briefly at his hands. “All they do is cause damage….” You intentionally scratched at your scar.

Logan snapped, claws out, teeth bared, he lunged at you in the darkness.

Before you could blink, wondering if maybe you'd taken it too far, you found yourself on top of the bar on your back, Logan's weight pinning you there as he loomed over you, nose to nose, claws of his right hand buried as deep as he could get them into the bartop.

He was breathing hard, jaw clenched tight.

You jumped slightly as he wrenched his hand free of the polished wood; his eyes fixed on yours. You didn't dare move, not that you could if you had wanted to.

“Not. Another. Fucking. Word.” He snarled, his breath warm against your already flushed cheeks.

You managed a half nod before he crushed his mouth against yours, his teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip, making you cry out against his mouth.

This time there was zero hesitation as he broke your kiss, a quick flash of silver metal rendering your bra completely useless as it fell to pieces.

Your skirt was the next casualty, his claws running right down the centre, cutting it to useless ribbons of fabric.

He locked eyes with you, claws retracted as he tossed his shirt into the darkness and worked open his belt, pushing his jeans off his hips, his fingers curled around the waistband of your underwear and you smirked when you noticed he wasn't wearing any of his own.

You bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips.

You were breathing hard, but you couldn't will yourself to stop, heart still racing as warm hands pushed your knees apart, Logan moving himself closer.

“What, no foreplay?” You breathed

Logan scoffed, his hands finding your hips. “As if you need it”

He yanked you forward roughly, off the edge of the bar and you gasped, an arm instinctively wrapping around his neck as you caught yourself on his shoulder with the other hand.

His hands holding firmly under your thighs, supporting the entirety of your weight with ease as your legs found their way back around his waist.

Neither of you spoke, your breathing was shaky and ragged; his was slow and even.

His fingers flexed against your thigh, sending a shockwave of electricity straight to your core.

You gasped, breathing hard enough that your chest brushed against his every time you inhaled.

“Scared?” He smirked, still painfully close and doing nothing about it, despite the press of his arousal against the inside of your thigh.

You shook your head slowly, knowing full well if he couldn't feel your heart slamming against your ribs, he could likely smell it on you.

As if to prove your point, his nose slid slowly along your cheek as he leaned forward, taking a deep breath as his lips pressed against your ear, his weight pushing you back against the edge of the bar.

Your eyes fluttered closed as his breath tickled your neck.

“Liar” he whispered, his voice thick with arousal. You whimpered, leaning harder against his chest as his teeth pulled on your earlobe, at the same time his hips thrusting forward, burying himself to the hilt in one swift movement.

You cried out, arching against him, your nails biting into his bare shoulder.

Without so much as a second breath he thrust again, using the bar at your back to his advantage, his hands moving to your hips. The bruising ache of his gripping fingers, buried deep in your flesh. The familiar sting of metal biting flesh right above his fingers as you rocked against him, shamelessly moaning against his neck.

You bent your head just enough to run your tongue over the hollow of his collarbone, a needy moan against your neck sending shivers through your entire body.

You lifted your head only to be met by a demanding, possessive kiss. Rough and sloppy as one of his hands found its way into your hair. His tongue tangling with yours as your own fingers twisted in his thick, dark locks, pulling hard, a feral growl escaping from deep in his chest as you squeezed your legs harder around his waist as he fucked you harder.

He pulled his mouth from yours and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. Both of you breathing hard, your lungs burning from the effort of it.

“Logan I-” you managed before a desperate moan tumbled from your lips “Oh, God” Your nails moving to drag down the expanse of his bare back.

You threw your head back, feeling his arms wrap around your frame, crushing you against his chest as your orgasm rocked your body, your fingernails buried deep in the flesh of his back, his animalistic roar echoing around the empty bar before he collapsed against you.

You could feel the raised welts your nails had left in their wake down his back slowly starting to heal themselves as he eased his hold on you,

Your breath caught in your throat slightly as he slid from inside you, leaving you feeling empty…wanting to be full.

He let your legs slip from around his waist with a sigh, both of you panting hard.

You opened your mouth to speak, your eyes searching his face and he shook his head almost like he had read your mind.

“Logan…”

“Not another word” he smirked

“But I-”

Before you could protest further, he took your face in both hands and kissed you deeply; your feet leaving the floor as he hoisted you into his arms. You pulled back with a giggle as his beard scratched against your cheek and he kissed a path along your jaw.

“I can walk” you quipped, your arms finding their way around his neck as you leaned against his shoulder.

“Not once I get through with you” he breathed against the shell of your ear.

You whimpered and he laughed, smirking against your skin; the ghost of his breath sending a shiver down the length of your spine as he carried you up the stairs towards your apartment.

#fic #not s f w 💀#logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #logan wolverine #logan howlett

18 notes · View notes