#4-in-1 Card Reader

[hershelwidget]

wait hang on

HANG ON

DO YOU SEE MY VISION

[drewsephrry]

Love Island - Episode 1: Welcome to the Villa

series masterlist

pairings: rafe cameron x reader

words: 7.1k

warnings: sexual innuendos, cuss words, alcohol consumption

The sun rises over the sparkling villa, casting a golden glow across the shimmering pool. The soft hum of waves crashing in the distance mixes with the faint chirping of birds, setting the stage for a summer of romance and surprises. Lush greenery surrounds the villa, its vibrant colors reflecting the energy of the Islanders who have just arrived.

Y/N stands among the other girls, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation tightening her chest. Her fingers fidget with the ring on her hand, a tell-tale sign of her anxiety. She glances at the others, their faces lighting up as Ariana Madix approaches.

“Welcome, girls, to Love Island! I hope you're all excited!” Ariana exclaims, her positive energy contagious. The group erupts in giggles and excited squeals, but Y/N remains reserved, her smile small yet sincere.

“Okay, so things are a little different this year…” Ariana's voice cuts through the chatter. The girls exchange looks of confusion and curiosity. Y/N shifts on her feet, her mind racing. Different could mean anything.

“Elaborate!” Sarah yells as the girls chuckle and even Ariana joins.

“You all thought that you'd be stepping forward for the boys that you fancy the most, yeah? However, this is Love Island and you never know what to expect.” The girls wait in anticipation. “For the first time ever we asked the public to play cupid and pick the boy they thought you should couple up with.”

The girls all are shocked as they look at each other. Y/N’s heart sinks and soars simultaneously. A mix of relief and dread washes over her. No pressure to choose, but what if the public got it wrong?

“Oh my god! He's gonna be short, gonna have no tattoos, ugly.” Kiara says, crossing the lines between humor and honesty. The girls chuckle at her reaction.

“How are you feeling? Is this a good thing? The decision is out of your hands, it's up to the public so, are you not happy?” Ariana asks, the girls giggle.

“I can't see any good in this. This is like the worst situation for me. I'm shitting it.” Cleo exclaims with Kiara nodding, agreeing with her.

“How are you feeling about this twist, Y/N?” Ariana’s voice breaks her thoughts and she blinks glancing around.

“Yeah, no, I don't know. It would probably be nerve-wracking for the boys to choose among these gorgeous girls.” She says pointing at the girls beside her, as they all giggle. Maddy shoves her playfully.

“You too, hon.” Maddy adds and Y/N shakes her head, smiling.

“But I guess it's a good thing. I don't know. We're just gonna have to wait and see.” Y/N smirks and Ariana nods, as she reads her card.

“Are you ready to meet our first boy? I am so excited, I can't wait any longer. Please meet JJ.” She introduces as JJ emerges from the villa.

JJ walks out with his flirty attitude, charming all of the girls, including Ariana before she announces that the public has paired him up with Maddy. Y/N claps along with the others as he rushes to Maddy, giving her a side hug. They seem happy, as she smiles and looks ahead to the presenter.

“Are you happy with this decision? JJ, how about you? You good to give things a go?” Ariana asks and JJ nods, his hand finding a place on Maddy’s waist.

“I'm happy. Yeah, definitely.” He replies.

“You got no choice!” Maddy teases and he chuckles nodding.

“True, true.”

Ariana smiles and looks down at her cards again, before moving ahead.

“Okay, 4 single girls left, are you ready to meet our next boy?” She asks and the girls nod “Here is Rafe!”

The nerves in Y/N’s stomach double as Ariana introduces the next boy. The name barely registers before he emerges. He has buzzed hair, piercing cerulean eyes that glint under the sunlight, as they scan the line of girls. Y/N feels her breath catch. His toned physique is impossible to ignore, but it is the sharp yet boyish smile tugging at his lips that sends her pulse racing.

“Hello and welcome to Love Island, Rafe!” Ariana greets him as Rafe nods.

“Hi, thank you.” He responds smoothly as he looks at the girls standing in front of him. His eyes linger a fraction longer on Y/N. She looks down, suddenly hyper-aware of herself. He then turns back to Ariana who has asked him a question.

“Sorry?” He asks and Ariana chuckles.

“I asked if you like our villa? But I guess you got distracted by our beautiful single ladies!” Ariana teases and Rafe's grin widens.

“Yeah, yeah. Umm…it's unreal” He answers.

“You happy to stay here for a while?” She asks and he nods.

“Yeah, I hope so anyway.” He replies, cheekily and the girls giggle.

“What about these ladies in front of you?” Ariana asks, looking straight at Y/N. “Is there someone who caught your eye already?” Y/N widens her eyes and hides her face in her hands. Rafe chuckles, looking down before looking up at her.

“They're all absolutely stunning but yeah…one did.” His voice drops slightly, but the microphone catches his confession. Y/N freezes, her cheeks heating. The other girls gasp and giggle, nudging her teasingly.

“It's time to get coupled up.” Ariana announces, before explaining to Rafe about this year's change in rules. Rafe nods and seems hopeful for the result.

“Okay, Rafe, the girl you're coupling up with is…Y/N. Go on over.” When Ariana reveals that the public has paired him with Y/N, her heart thuds loudly in her ears. She tries to steady her breath as Rafe approaches, his confident stride softening when he reaches her.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks, his voice low, almost intimate, as he opens his arms.

“Yeah, you?” Y/N replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She steps into his embrace happily, his warmth enveloping her. Rafe nods and moves to stand behind her. His hand is hovering over her waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks, meeting her gaze before she nods. His touch settles lightly on her waist. A jolt of electricity seems to spark between them and they both stiffen for a moment, glancing at each other as if to confirm what they feel. Y/N smiles shyly, her heart racing.

“Rafe, how are you feeling? I saw a bit of a smile while you were walking over there. Did the public choose wisely?” Ariana teases and he chuckles, nodding.

“Yeah, definitely. I'm a happy man. 100%.” He admits, grinning widely. His words are sure and his tone is light but genuine.

“Y/N, he's 100% happy, what about you?” Ariana asks and Y/N turns her attention back to her.

“Yeah, he's cute. I'm happy.” Y/N nervously answers, her voice falters slightly under everyone’s gaze, but her smile doesn’t waver. Rafe chuckles, looking down at her with a glimmer of amusement and something softer.

“Good.” He murmurs just for her to hear, his hand tightening ever so slightly at her waist.

“And there we have it! Our second couple!” Ariana announces as everyone cheers and applauds. Y/N feels Rafe’s presence at her side like an anchor. His confidence is magnetic, but it is the way he subtly checked on her, making sure she was comfortable, that stays with her. Maybe the public got it right after all.

The coupling ceremony continues. The public pairs Topper with Sarah, John B with Cleo and Pope with Kiara.

“That's it! Now, we have our gorgeous 5 couples!” Ariana announces, introducing each one, her energy lighting up the group.

“So you're now gonna spend time as couples. Doing challenges together. Sharing a bed together. Living together. How does that sound?” Ariana asks and the group erupts in cheers, Topper hollering loudly as Sarah chuckles beside him.

“In eight weeks time, the public will be voting for their favorite couple.” Ariana continues, her tone teasing yet firm. “And that couple stands to win a massive prize of 100,000 dollars. But remember guys, this is Love Island and the path to true love never runs smooth.” She pauses to let her words sink in.

“I'm gonna leave you to get to know each other and I will see you very soon. Have fun.” Ariana walks off, leaving the Islanders buzzing with anticipation. They cluster together, conversations breaking out as everyone starts introducing themselves.

Confessional - JJ “Love Island, baby!” He shouts with a grin, hands cupped around his mouth. He leans back and exhales dramatically. “This is so unreal, the villa is insane and there are six hot girls walking around in bikinis. I’m living the dream, man.”

Y/N finds herself standing with Rafe.

“How you feeling?” He asks, his voice deep and husky, cutting through the chatter.

“Good. Kinda nervous. But…it's okay. I'll be okay. You? What about you?” She replies, meeting his gaze, fidgeting nervously with a ring on her finger. Rafe smirks, his posture relaxing.

“No, yeah. Same. I'm shitting my pants, if I'm being honest.” He admits, earning a laugh from her.

“So what…what did you say you do?” She asks, adjusting her bikini top. Rafe watches her carefully. He hesitates for a moment, scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, I am a business owner. We do development and construction…stuff.” He winces inwardly, annoyed at how clumsy his words sound but he couldn't help himself getting nervous in front of her. Y/N nods and smiles playfully.

“Okay, mr. Businessman!” She teases, her tone light and inviting. Rafe chuckles, her easygoing attitude calming his nerves. For the first time that morning, he feels himself relax. Y/N shifts her weight as she leans slightly closer to Rafe.

“Development and construction, huh? So, what does that mean exactly? Like…building houses and stuff?” She asks. Rafe nods, his confidence slowly returning under her curious gaze.

“Yeah, houses, commercial spaces, renovations. Pretty much anything you can think of. My family’s been in the business for a while, but I’m trying to carve out my own thing.” He explains and she nods.

“Impressive.” Y/N says, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest. “I mean, that’s no small feat. Sounds like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.” She says and he shrugs, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“I try. What about you?” He asks, his eyes lighting up with genuine curiosity.

“I’m a baker.” She says with a proud smile. His brows lift, impressed.

“A baker? That’s amazing. How did you get into that?” He crosses his arms, his biceps flexing slightly and Y/N swallows, trying not to stare.

“Well…I’ve always loved baking.” She begins, her tone soft with nostalgia. “When I was little, my dad and I would spend weekends experimenting with recipes and making sweets for the family. It became our thing and I just fell in love with it.” She smiles at the memory, her expression warm.

“That’s incredible.” Rafe replies, his admiration evident. “It’s rare to see someone doing something they’re so passionate about. Not everyone gets that chance.”

“I know.” She says with a nod. “I’m really lucky.”

Before Rafe can respond, Sarah appears, cutting through the moment.

“Hey, want to take a tour of the villa?” She asks, Y/N glances up at Rafe, giving him the chance to answer first. He seems surprised but quickly nods.

“Yeah, sure.” He replies as Sarah leads the way and the trio heads toward the kitchen. Y/N’s eyes light up as she takes in the massive counters, mixers and gleaming appliances.

“You think you’ll show off your baking skills here, Y/N?” Sarah teases, nudging her.

“Maybe.” Y/N replies with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Rafe notices the sparkle in her eye as she talks about baking and before he realizes it, a wide grin spreads across his face. He’s so caught up in watching her that he misses most of their conversation.

“You okay?” Y/N’s voice pulls him from his daze, her expression tinged with concern.

“Yeah, yeah.” He says, clearing his throat and trying to play it cool.

The tour moves to the bedroom. The expansive space is lined with huge closets covered by mirrors, beds side by side and across from each other with personalized plaques. Sarah immediately finds her bed and claims it with a dramatic jump, making both Rafe and Y/N laugh. Her laughter stirs something deep inside Rafe, a longing he hadn’t expected. Y/N walks down the carpeted aisle, scanning the plaques until she spots her name.

“Here we are!” She exclaims, pointing to a bed with a bright yellow blanket. Rafe follows her and stands close, glancing at her plaque.

“Which side do you prefer?” He asks and she shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me. But fair warning…” She says, a mischievous grin forming, “I sleep like a starfish.”

“Oh yeah?” Rafe chuckles.

“Sometimes upside down.” She adds with a laugh, earning a loud laugh from him in return.

“Good to know.” He teases. “We’ll figure it out.” Their conversation is interrupted as Sarah leads them upstairs to the bathroom and makeup room. Sarah squeals at the sight of the luxurious setup, while Y/N pauses to glance at her reflection in the mirror.

“Looking good.” Rafe murmurs as he passes behind her, heading to the balcony. Y/N’s breath hitches at his voice, and she catches herself staring as he walks away.

“You’re staring.” Sarah teases in a singsong voice.

“Shut up.” Y/N mutters, brushing past her to step out onto the balcony.

“Wow!” She breathes, taking in the stunning view.

“Right? It’s unreal.” Rafe says, leaning closer.

“I can’t believe we’re staying here all summer.” She admits, sitting on a bench. Rafe joins her, nodding.

“Yeah, pretty surreal. Great house, great view…” He glances at her with a playful smirk. “Great company, too.”

“Can’t argue with that.” She grins, bumping his arm lightly. Their eyes lock and the air between them grows heavy with unspoken tension. Rafe’s gaze flickers to her lips and she unconsciously wets them with her tongue. He starts to lean in but right then, the door bursts open. Topper, Kiara and John B spill onto the balcony.

“Whoa, this view is insane!” Topper exclaims, oblivious to the moment he’s just shattered. Rafe exhales in frustration, earning a soft giggle from Y/N.

“Maybe later.” She whispers, standing and joining the girls back inside. Rafe stays behind, stunned, watching her walk away. It hasn’t even been an hour, but he already knows he can’t stay away from her for long.

The day passes quickly as the islanders get to know one another. The girls instantly click and are soon upstairs, getting ready for the evening’s first party.

“So, what did you think of the boys?” Sarah asks, running a flat iron through her hair.

“They’re very good-looking.” Maddy replies, carefully applying her mascara. Kiara and Cleo nod in agreement before turning to Y/N, who is focused on curling her hair.

“And you, Y/N?” Sarah teases, nudging her playfully. “What do you think about Rafe?” Y/N giggles, wrapping another strand of hair around the curling wand.

“The boys seem nice, fun to be around. Rafe…yeah.” She begins, pausing briefly. “He seems really sweet.”

“And very fit!” Maddy adds, prompting laughter from the group.

“That too.” Y/N agrees with a grin.

“Would you say he’s your type?” Maddy presses, her curiosity evident as Y/N nods slowly.

“He…he’s different from what I usually go for, for sure.” She reveals making the girls exchange curious glances.

“What do you mean? Different how?” Cleo asks, watching as Y/N finishes curling her last strand.

“Well, all my exes have had darker features, darker skin. I don’t mind the change, though.” Y/N admits with a small smile. “But he’s different in terms of vibe, energy…all of that. We’ve only had a couple of chats, but he made it feel so easy, like we already knew each other. I really liked that.” The girls collectively swoon.

“It’s that soulmate energy.” Cleo jokes. “Like Bluetooth syncing or something!” Her comment earns a round of laughter.

“In all seriousness, it’s great that you already feel comfortable with him.” Maddy says, nodding. “And to have good banter on the first day? That’s rare.”

The girls agree, soon transitioning to sharing how they spent their day with the boys.

“JJ asked me my bra size! Like…dude, we just met!” She exclaims, making everyone laugh.

Later, they head downstairs, all dressed to impress. Y/N wears a matching top and skirt set paired with sleek black heels. As they enter the kitchen, the boys cheer and whistle, clearly appreciating the girls’ efforts.

“Here you go.” Rafe steps forward, offering Y/N a glass of champagne with a warm smile.

“Thanks.” She replies, taking it as she leans against the counter. JJ raises his glass for a toast.

“To Love Island! To the hottest cast ever! And to finding love and friends!” JJ announces, his energy contagious. The group laughs, clinking their glasses together. Rafe turns to Y/N, raising his glass to her specifically. She chuckles, gently tapping her glass to his before taking a sip.

After some time spent chatting, JJ claps his hands to grab everyone’s attention.

“Alright, how about a game of truth or dare to break the ice? Let’s get comfortable around here.” He suggests with a grin. The boys immediately agree, their enthusiasm contagious, while the girls exchange looks before Sarah shrugs.

“Why the heck not?” She says, prompting the others to nod in agreement, before heading to the firepit. JJ holds up two small boxes labeled 'Truth' and 'Dare' and heads over to John B, who’s sitting on the edge of the firepit’s rounded seating.

“Alright, John B, you’re up first. Truth or dare?” JJ prompts, shaking the boxes. John B reaches for the truth box, earning boos from Kiara. He chuckles as he unfolds the slip of paper.

“‘Have you ever been to the mile-high club?’” He reads aloud, his face lighting up with amusement. The girls burst into laughter while Rafe elbows him teasingly.

“No, I haven’t.” John B admits. “But I wouldn’t mind.” He shoots a cheeky glance at the girls and Cleo rolls her eyes giggling. Passing the boxes to Rafe, John B grins.

“Your turn, Rafe. Truth or dare?” He asks as Rafe smirks, nodding toward the dare box. John B holds it out, and Rafe picks a slip, unfolding it carefully.

“‘Kiss the islander you find most attractive.’” He reads, prompting whistles and cheers from the group.

“So me, obviously!” JJ jokes, earning another round of laughter. Rolling his eyes playfully, Rafe stands up without hesitation. His eyes land on Y/N and he walks toward her, heart pounding. Leaning down, he meets her wide-eyed gaze.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly. Y/N swallows hard, her cheeks flushing. She nods, her lashes fluttering shut as he leans in. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss and Rafe’s senses are overwhelmed. Her lips are soft, sweet like vanilla, with a hint of champagne from earlier. Time seems to stop and when he pulls back, he’s left breathless. Y/N opens her eyes slowly, her chest rising and falling. She smiles shyly and Rafe returns it with a soft nod before heading back to his seat. He notices her licking her lips and glancing down as Kiara teases her.

The game continues, but Rafe can’t stop sneaking glances at Y/N, his mind replaying the kiss over and over. It’s only day one, but he knows he’s already hooked.

When it’s Y/N’s turn, Pope hands her the boxes and Maddy elbows her playfully. She hesitates for a moment before reaching toward the truth box, only to change her mind and choose dare instead. The boys cheer as she picks up the slip, her cheeks turning crimson.

“Oh no.” She mutters, drawing everyone’s attention.

“What is it?” Sarah asks eagerly.

“Come on, spill!” JJ demands and Y/N groans, reading aloud

“‘Reenact your favorite sex position with an islander of your choice.’”

The girls gasp while the boys erupt into laughter, their excitement palpable. John B claps Rafe on the back, a knowing grin on his face. Rafe tries to keep a neutral expression, but his mind races. Part of him hopes she’ll choose him, though the thought of her picking someone else stirs a pang of jealousy. When Y/N stands and adjusts her skirt, his breath catches. She walks straight toward him and his pulse quickens.

“Is this okay?” She asks softly, standing between his legs. He nods quickly, his voice caught in his throat. Y/N straddles his lap, pretending to ride him. The girls giggle and the boys holler, their cheers echoing around them. Rafe freezes, his mind blank as he takes in her closeness. Y/N notices his dumbfounded expression and stops abruptly.

“Too far?” She whispers.

“No, no…just, damn.” Rafe shakes his head and replies. She laughs softly, her smile radiant as she climbs off his lap, adjusting her skirt before returning to her seat. Rafe’s cheeks burn as John B and Topper waste no time teasing him.

“Someone’s got a boner!” Topper yells, earning an elbow from Rafe.

Confessional - Rafe He lets out a low laugh, glancing off-camera. “Y’all are so messy with these dares.” He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t think she’d actually do it. But…yeah, I’m not complaining.”

The game continues, filled with laughter, wild dares and revealing truths. Topper does the worm, Pope eats a spoonful of mayo and Maddy shares her craziest sex story. But no matter how much fun unfolds, Rafe’s focus keeps drifting back to Y/N and the moments they just shared.

As the game ends, the islanders begin to drift away from the fire pit, eager to chat and unwind. Sarah, Kiara and Cleo head off together, with Topper and Pope trailing behind. John B pulls Maddy toward the daybed, while JJ makes his way to the kitchen for a snack. This leaves Y/N and Rafe alone by the firepit.

“Hey, um…” Rafe begins, glancing at her as she stands by the fire, rubbing her hands for warmth. He moves closer, standing beside her.

“You having fun?” He asks, his voice soft. Y/N looks up at him and smiles warmly.

“Yeah, I am. You?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He replies, nodding, his lips curling into a small smile. Y/N hesitates before speaking again, her voice tinged with guilt.

“Oh my god, about earlier, I'm so sorry. I took it too far with the whole position thing. If I made you uncomfortable-”

“You didn't.” He interrupts firmly, his tone reassuring.

“You sure?” She presses, searching his face. “You seemed…I don't know.” Rafe chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“I was just surprised. But…” He looks her in the eyes, a playful smirk forming. "I enjoyed it." Y/N's brows shoot up in surprise.

“Oh, yeah?” She teases, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Good to know.” She adds, her voice light but her gaze steady. The air between them shifts, an undeniable tension settling in. Their chemistry crackles, their banter flowing naturally despite their nervous energy. Y/N's eyes flicker to Rafe's lips and he notices, instinctively licking them.

“You know.” He says, his voice dropping. “You're a really good kisser.”

“You think so?” She asks, her pulse quickening, palms growing clammy.

“Know so.” He replies, his confidence unwavering. “And I wouldn't mind sharing another.” He reveals, as Y/N's breath catches at his words, her heart racing. She meets his intense blue gaze, taking a moment.

“I wouldn't mind either.” She whispers. Rafe raises his brows slightly in surprise before quickly scanning the villa. Everyone seems occupied, leaving them unnoticed. Stepping closer, he positions himself in front of her, shielding her from view. His hand gently rests on her waist, while the other cups her cheek, tilting her face toward his.

“Tell me to stop.” He murmurs, his breath warm against her skin.

“I don't want you to.” She whispers back, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. That's all Rafe needs to hear. He leans in, his lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss. Y/N recovers quickly, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he deepens the kiss. It's full of promise, desire and something neither of them fully understands yet but feels deeply.

“Oy, oy, easy there!” JJ's voice cuts through, approaching the daybed with a cheeky grin. Y/N pulls back with a laugh, her cheeks flushed, while Rafe turns to shoot JJ a middle finger. Y/N grabs his arm, pushing it down with a playful shake of her head. Then, unable to resist, she pulls him back for another peck, which quickly turns into another and another.

When they finally part, both are breathless, their laughter mixing softly. Y/N raises her hand, gently wiping the smudged lip gloss from Rafe's lips.

“Oh, yeah, do your thing.” Rafe murmurs, his eyes fixed on her. He takes in her flushed cheeks, the way her lashes flutter and the delicate touch of her fingers brushing his skin. For a moment, the world fades away, leaving only the two of them and the spark that's becoming impossible to ignore.

“You...you okay?” He asks, his voice uncertain but filled with a need for reassurance. He wants to know the kiss meant something to her, that it wasn’t just a fleeting moment. That even after one day, he’s claimed her in some unspoken way.

“Yeah. You? Was...was it okay?” She asks softly, her brows knitting with concern as she searchees his face for an answer.

“It was perfect.” He admits, his voice steady and sincere. A smile tugs at herr lips and he can’t help but mirror it, pulling her into his arms. His hands trail lightly over her arms, noticing the faint goosebumps there.

“I like getting to know you already.” She murmurs, half-teasing but entirely honest.

“Yeah, me too.” Rafe replies, a low chuckle escaping his throat. “That's...that's definitely an interesting way to get to know someone.” She laughs softly, the sound warm and light, before the two of them begin walking back toward the group.

Confessional - Y/N She smiles shyly, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “The kiss? Yeah…it was nice. He’s-he’s definitely a good kisser.” She says, cheeks going visibly red. “Like…really good."

As soon as they rejoin the others, the teasing begins, playful and relentless. Y/N rolls her eyes, face flushing as she hides behind her hands, but Rafe only watches her, his gaze lingering. Admiring.

For him, there’s no teasing in the world that could ruin this moment.

It’s finally time for the couples to head to bed. The girls gather upstairs in the makeup room, taking off their makeup, slipping into pajamas and chatting as they wind down.

“Okay, Y/N.” Kiara says with a smirk. “Spill!”

“Yeah, don’t leave us hanging like that.” Maddy adds eagerly. Y/N stammers, her cheeks flushing as she searches for the right words.

“Guys, give her a second to breathe.” Sarah says, grabbing the bottle of micellar water.

“I…it just happened.” Y/N finally manages.

“How was it?” Kiara presses, leaning closer.

“Did he use tongue?” Maddy teases.

“Ew!” Cleo exclaims, wrinkling her nose. The girls dissolve into laughter.

“Okay, okay, relax!” Y/N starts, shaking her head. “We just…we had a moment. He wanted to kiss me and I wanted to kiss him. And…it was probably the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

The girls all let out a synchronized “aww”, making Y/N laugh nervously.

“I told you, it’s that Bluetooth connection.” Cleo chimes in, earning another round of giggles.

One by one, the girls head downstairs to the bedroom. John B and JJ are being their usual goofy selves, jumping from bed to bed. Pope and Topper are deep in conversation and Rafe is sitting at the edge of the bed, quietly watching everyone with a soft smile.

Confessional - Sarah “I'm actually really happy for her. They've got a vibe, you know? I can see it working.” She nods thoughtfully, a small smile playing on her lips.

Y/N is the last to enter and all eyes fall on her as she steps into the room. Her cheeks heat up under the attention, but she quickly makes her way to the bed. Rafe stands the moment he sees her, scratching the back of his neck.

“I…uh…wasn’t sure which side you wanted.” He says awkwardly. She waves it off with a small smile.

“I told you, I don’t mind.” She replies.

“Right.” He mumbles, clearing his throat. “Okay.” He moves to the right side of the bed.

“This okay?” She nods, still smiling as she sets her water bottle and phone on the bedside table. Rafe watches her, mesmerized. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie, one he wishes was his and tiny shorts that barely peek out from under the hem. Her hair is in loose braids, framing her face in a way that makes his heart race. Sliding under the covers, she glances up at him.

“Aren’t you getting in?” She asks and he blinks, realizing he’s still standing.

“Right! Yeah. Yes.” He quickly climbs into bed, keeping a safe distance so she feels comfortable. The lights go out and the room is filled with quiet laughter as Topper and Sarah cuddle boldly, earning a loud holler from JJ. Maddy smacks him playfully, pulling him closer to her. The teasing dies down and soon the room grows quiet. Y/N shifts under the covers, trying not to disturb anyone as she struggles to get comfortable.

“Hey, you okay?” Rafe’s voice is soft in the dark and she turns to face him.

“Sorry.” She whispers. “I’m just not used to sleeping anywhere but my own bed.” He nods in understanding.

“Yeah, I get that.” A pause. “Do…do you wanna come closer?” Her eyes widen slightly.

“I-” “You don’t have to.” He quickly adds. “It’s the first night. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She hesitates before inching closer, her leg lightly brushing his.

“Is…is this okay?” She asks quietly.

“It’s perfect.” He murmurs. She relaxes, settling into the space beside him. Her arm finds its way around him, her knee brushing against his thigh. Rafe’s heart pounds at the contact and he focuses on keeping his breathing steady.

“Good night.” She whispers, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Good night.” He replies, his voice barely audible. Within moments, she drifts to sleep, her body softening against his. Rafe glances down at her, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. Her arm instinctively tightens around his torso, making his breath catch.

Looking around the room, he sees that everyone else is already asleep. He sighs, turning his gaze to the ceiling, wondering how it’s possible to feel so much for someone he met only hours ago.

The next morning, the bedroom lights flicker on, rousing everyone from their slumber. Groans and stretches echo around the room as Y/N blinks her eyes open, realizing her head was resting on Rafe’s chest. She pulls away quickly, her face flushing.

“Sorry.” She murmurs groggily while Rafe gives her a sleepy smile, his voice low and husky.

“It’s fine.” He whispers. Y/N sighs, tugging the covers over her head.

“I don’t wanna get up.” She groans and Rafe chuckles softly, yanking the covers away.

“Come on, sleepyhead.” He teases as a small smile tugs at her lips as she sits up, rubbing her eyes. Around the room, people start asking about each other's sleep.

“What about you, Y/N?” Maddy asks and Pope smirks. “You two cuddled last night, didn’t you?” He asks teasingly. Y/N’s cheeks turn crimson.

“I slept well.” She says quickly, then hesitates. “And… yeah, we did.” Topper, from his bed, grins and leans over to give Rafe a high-five. Rafe rolls his eyes but smirks, reaching out to connect hands. Y/N shakes her head at their antics, amused despite herself. She throws the covers off and stands up as the rest of the girls follow suit, heading upstairs to start the day. As Y/N walks away, Rafe couldn’t help but watch her, his gaze lingering.

“Man, you’re whipped already.” Topper jokes.

“Shut up.” Rafe mutters, though a small grin tugs at his lips as he gets out of bed to get ready.

Not long after, the boys gather outside for a morning workout, while the girls, now dressed in bikinis, fill the kitchen with chatter as they make coffee. Rafe works out until thirst gets the better of him. He heads to the kitchen to grab a water bottle, his eyes naturally drawn to the lively scene there.

That’s where Rafe spots Y/N, standing by the counter in a tiny bikini that perfectly highlights her silhouette. She’s in her element, flipping pancakes with ease, barely acknowledging whatever JJ is saying to her or noticing Rafe’s presence. His gaze lingers as she stacks the golden pancakes on a plate. When she finally looks up, her eyes meet his.

“Oh, hey!” She says, smiling warmly.

“Hey.” Rafe replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. His skin glistens with sweat from his workout, the sun highlighting his sun kissed complexion and making his blue eyes sparkle.

“You want some? They’re sugar-free, for all you gym rats.” She teases playfully, making him chuckle and nod.

“Yeah, I’d love some.” He says and he starts to move behind the counter, but she stops him, pressing the end of the spatula lightly against his chest.

“Go sit down. I’ve got this.” She exclaims as Rafe raises a questioning brow.

“You sure? I can-” “I insist.” She cuts him off firmly. With a slight shake of his head and a grin, he backs away, taking a seat on one of the stools. Y/N stacks pancakes onto two plates, adding a dollop of yogurt, a handful of berries and a drizzle of honey. Once she’s satisfied, she carries the plates over, placing one in front of him before settling beside him.

“Here you go. I…I didn't know if this is how you wanted them. Fuck, I should’ve asked.” She mutters, scolding herself. Rafe glances at the plate, then back at her.

“Actually, just like this.” He reveals with a faint grin and she narrows her eyes playfully.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.” She says.

“I’m not lying.” He replies quickly, shaking his head. “Seriously, you can ask my family or any of my friends, this is exactly how I make them too.” Y/N’s eyes widen, and Rafe can’t help but feel stunned. It’s such a small, silly thing, but it means something to him. He wonders why he hadn’t met her sooner.

They both mirror a smile before she starts to dig into her pancakes, she strikes up small talk with him, her laughter and easygoing nature making it impossible for him to look away.

Confessional - Rafe "I know it's just pancakes, but come on...that is definitely a sign" He smirks.

Breakfast flies by and the islanders soon head to their first challenge, designed to help them get to know each other better. The setup resembles an airport, complete with a metal detector and a luggage carousel at the center. The game is simple: the girls read cards with spicy truths about the boys and try to guess which one the secret belongs to. Once they’ve guessed, they "scan" the boy and seal it with a kiss. The boy then walks through the metal detector to reveal if the guess was correct. Afterward, the roles reverse and the boys guess about the girls. The team with the most correct answers wins.

Sarah goes first, picking up her card.

“‘This boy’s first time happened in the back of his dad’s van.’” She reads out loud. “Hope dad wasn’t there.” She adds smirking as the girls laugh and exchange guesses, while Sarah studies the boys. Her eyes land on John B, who’s nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“You! You look guilty!” She declares, pointing at him. Laughing, John B takes her hand and they step to the center. Sarah cups his face and pulls him into a soft kiss. John B’s hands settle on her waist, letting her take the lead as the kiss deepens. The other girls cheer excitedly. When they break apart, both are flushed and Sarah playfully pushes John B toward the metal detector. He steps through and it blinks green. She guessed correctly.

“And no, my dad wasn’t there.” John B jokes. “But thanks for that mental image I’ll never unsee.”

The group bursts into laughter and Sarah sends him a cheeky wink before returning to the girls.

The game continues until it’s Kiara’s turn. She steps forward, grabs a card and reads it aloud.

“‘This boy drunk-dialed a celebrity and hooked up with her.’” Gasps fill the room.

“What? That’s insane!” Kiara exclaims, scanning the boys’ faces for clues. After a moment, she points to Rafe. “You seem like the type to drunk-dial someone.” She drags him to the middle and they share a brief, soft kiss. He steps through the detector, but it flashes red. As everyone murmurs, JJ steps forward, grinning.

“Yeah, that was me.” He admits.

“What? Spill the details!” Maddy presses and JJ scratches the back of his neck, chuckling.

“There was this woman, an actress, can’t name her, obviously, who was taking surfing lessons from me. One night, I got totally wasted, called her and well…we ended up on my boat.” The room erupts in shock, the boys teasing him for more details, but JJ keeps the name to himself, basking in the attention.

Confessional - JJ He crosses his arms, trying to keep a straight face. “I’m not saying her name. Nope.” He shakes his head, glancing off-camera. When he focuses back on the lens, he throws his hand up to his ear like a phone and whispers “Call me” with a cheeky grin.

Finally, it’s Y/N’s turn. She steps forward, picks up a card and reads.

“‘This boy accidentally sent a dirty picture to a colleague.’” She gulps and laughs nervously. “Oh no, that’s…unfortunate.”

After a moment of deliberation, she points to Rafe.

“I’m going with you.” She says, unsure but willing to take the chance. Rafe’s breath catches as Y/N takes his hand and pulls him to the center. Their eyes meet, lingering, before she stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. The kiss is soft but charged, with an unspoken intensity that sets it apart. Rafe’s hands settle on her waist, pulling her closer.

When they finally part, Rafe takes a moment to collect himself before stepping under the detector. It blinks green. Y/N grins as the girls cheer, but her gaze stays locked on his.

“What kind of dirty picture?” She asks, raising a curious brow and Rafe smirks.

“You know the kind.” His teasing tone earns a round of laughter and screams from the group, while Y/N fights a blush, unable to look away from him.

Now it’s the guys’ turn. JJ steps up first, grabbing a card and reading it aloud.

“‘This girl has had a threesome with her best friend and her boyfriend.’” He pauses dramatically, then smirks. “Oh, spicy!” His eyes sweep over the girls before he steps in front of Y/N, extending his hand.

“Come on, sweets.” He says with a playful grin. Y/N hesitates for a moment but takes his hand, letting him lead her to the center. Rafe watches, trying to keep his expression neutral as JJ cups Y/N’s face and pulls her in for a messy, passionate kiss. Despite himself, Rafe’s jaw tightens and he looks away briefly. When the kiss ends, Y/N wipes her lips with a small smile and steps under the detector, which flashes red. As the islanders try to figure out who it was, Kiara steps forward, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, fine! It was one time and I’m not even friends with her anymore.” She admits.

“Did the threesome have anything to do with that?” Maddy teases, raising an eyebrow.

“What? No! She was just a two-faced bitch.” Kiara shoots back, making everyone laugh. Y/N chuckles softly as she takes her spot again.

Confessional - Kiara She tilts her head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Sorry, not sorry…bitch.” She says sweetly.

Finally, it’s Rafe’s turn. He picks up a card and reads it, a sly smile spreading across his face.

“‘This girl had a sex dream about a superhero.’” He glances at the girls, his gaze landing on Y/N, who suddenly seems very interested in her nails. Rafe chuckles.

“Come on, Y/N.”

She looks up, cheeks flushing and takes his outstretched hand. He leads her to the middle, his hand settling on her waist. Tilting her chin up with his finger, he leans in for a kiss. It starts soft, almost tentative, but quickly deepens as he pulls her closer. Her arms wrap around his shoulders and Rafe, unable to resist, lifts her off the ground, continuing the kiss until he gently sets her back down.

When they finally pull away, both of them are breathless, laughing quietly as Y/N steps under the detector, which flashes green. Rafe’s smirk widens as Topper chimes in.

“Care to tell us which superhero it was?” He asks and everyone starts begging her to spill and Y/N groans, her face burning.

“It was…Captain America.” She reveals as the girls nod knowingly, while the guys gape in shock.

“I had a Marvel phase, okay? And…I’m sorry if Chris Evans ever hears about this.” She adds, making everyone laugh.

With the game wrapped up, the girls victorious, the islanders head back to the villa, the tension between Y/N and Rafe lingering in the air.

The girls head straight upstairs to the makeup room to get ready for the night.

“So… Captain America?” Maddy teases as she works on her hair. Y/N rolls her eyes, sifting through the racks of outfits.

“Don’t even start.” She warns, though her lips twitch with a smile.

“I don’t blame you.” Sarah chimes in, applying lip gloss.

“He’s hot!” Cleo agrees enthusiastically.

The girls laugh and chat as they get ready, rehashing the challenge and the scandalous truths that were revealed. By the time they head downstairs, they’re glammed up and dressed to impress.

The boys, also cleaned up in their best outfits, let out whistles and cheers as the girls enter the bedroom. Rafe can’t take his eyes off Y/N, especially the short dress that hugs her in all the right places. She moves through the corridor toward him, but her heel catches and she stumbles. Rafe reacts instantly, grabbing her waist to steady her. Her hands press against his chest as she regains her balance.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice low and concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” She murmurs, meeting his gaze briefly before standing upright. His hands linger on her waist, reluctant to let go.

“Aw, looks like you’ve got your own superhero!” Maddy teases as she walks by, grinning. Y/N chuckles softly, stepping back and rolling her eyes.

“Thanks again.” She says before following Maddy and the other girls. Rafe stays rooted to the spot, watching her walk away. Topper claps him on the back.

“Dude, you’re staring again. Chill.”

“Fuck.” Rafe blinks, muttering under his breath, before he trails behind the group as they head to the kitchen.

Later, Y/N, Maddy and Sarah lounge on the daybed with JJ and John B. The vibe is relaxed, laughter flowing easily among them. Rafe approaches, his hands in his pockets.

“Mind if I join?” He asks. The guys scoot over to make space, but his eyes are fixed on Y/N.

“Of course.” She says with a small smile, shifting slightly to make room.

“You having a good time?” She asks, taking a sip of water from her bottle.

“Yeah. It’s good. All good.” Rafe replies, his voice a bit strained.

The conversation resumes, light and playful, but Rafe seems distracted. Finally, he clears his throat, his expression unusually serious.

“I’m sorry, but I have to bring this up.” He says, breaking into the chatter. Everyone looks at him curiously.

“What are you talking about?” Maddy asks. Rafe glances at Y/N, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Captain America? Really?”

The group erupts into laughter as Y/N groans, hiding her face in her hands.

“You’re never letting this go, are you?” She asks, her voice muffled.

“Never.” Sarah chimes in, wrapping an arm around Y/N. “This is too good.” Y/N sighs dramatically.

“Fine. Yes, I had a Marvel phase. And yes, Chris Evans is ridiculously hot. So is Steve Rogers. And yes, I’d happily let him save me from a burning building and then kiss me and…is that so bad?”

Everyone laughs, but before Y/N can join in, she notices movement in the distance. A figure appears, walking down the villa’s flower-adorned corridor, the click of heels echoing against the floor.

“Where’s my warm welcome?” A sultry voice calls out. All heads turn and Y/N’s eyes widen in shock.

“Shit.” She mutters under her breath. A hot new bombshell just entered the villa.

to be continued…

taglist: @cherrygirlfriend @judesgfirl @slickdickwitchbitchh @leather-n-velvet @alinavalentine @littlelamy @nami11 @madiisynnxx @ts1mp0ne @starkeyslibrary @venusluves @rafecameronsfavourite @lolharrystylesissexy @nofacenocase00 @k4yr14 @drewslefttoe @tinie03 @angielvsnick @dellevans @malibuhearts @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @harryweeniee @imawhoreforu @fastlovela @jjmaybankmylovee @miserablebl00d @angeliki-spiteri9711 @drewsnr1slut @laniirackssss @emotionsmgcbabe @oconnrs @missabsey @amterasuu @cornliastreett @pvyden @italk2god @swagmoneydrew @lerclec @emmaaas-posts @dorcas4meadowes @isabellaxlilah @xoxosblogsblog @bxbychxrry @julesbog @annaaaamichelle @st8rkey @lewispool @my-name-is-baby @silkylovey @soincredible

A/N: this was long and i hope you enjoyed it, i have so much planned for this series and i am so excited and so happy you all have shown it so much love already!! likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! 🩵

[sevarchive]

♡ read it again, sae! ──

synopsis: in which sae itoshi gets invited to buzzfeed celeb to read thirst tweets, and instantly regrets saying yes. starring: sae itoshi

a/n: this was a last minute idea i did at 8 pm, lmfaoooo enjoy!

[intro – camera rolls]

sae sits stiffly in the chair. arms crossed. jaw clenched. like he’s bracing for impact.

“hi,” he says blandly. “i’m itoshi sae. and today i’ll be reading thirst tweets written by people who desperately need hobbies. or god.”

he pauses.

“i’m a professional athlete. this is what they’re making me do.”

[tweet 1]

he stares at the tweet. “that’s… disturbingly creative. but i do train lower body, yeah. thanks, i guess.”

[tweet 2]

“do you understand how long a champions league final is?! that’s 120 minutes. plus penalties.”

someone in the crew says, “stamina king 🤭”

he turns, eyes wide.

“don’t encourage them.”

then he starts quietly repeating the tweet under his breath. “‘all day all night… full intensity…’ oh my god. oh my god.”

he stands up. “i need water. i need air. i need to go back to madrid.”

he pauses on the way out.

“also there’s no way your stamina matches that energy. be for real.”

and then he skips to the next tweet.

[tweet 3]

he reads it. then just—

“…you’re begging. in a tweet.”

he leans forward, staring into the camera.

“do you understand how low your self-respect has to be for this sentence to exist.”

he sighs.

“also. i would give you a red card. on sight.”

[tweet 4]

he goes completely still.

“...you want me to run an analytical report on your ass.”

he squints. reading it again.

“are my cheeks pressing high enough???”

he slowly turns to look at the crew.

“i don’t even know how to respond to that. what do you want me to say. that i pause replays for a better view of glute activation??”

someone in the back loses it.

he drops the card on the table and leans back, absolutely defeated.

“you know what. sure. yes. if your movement lacks control, i will be the first to say it.”

he sighs. long and deep.

“…can’t believe i’m talking about ass form on camera.”

[tweet 5]

he doesn’t even read it out loud.

he just… holds it. looks at it. blinks. sets it down like it’s cursed parchment from an ancient ruin.

he pushes his chair back.

“…i’m scared.”

he looks down at the card again. reads it silently. slowly blinks.

“…this one takes the cake. this is it. this is the worst thing i’ve ever read in my life.”

he gestures vaguely at the air.

“and i’ve read… contracts.”

off-camera someone’s wheezing. he finally sets the card down like it’s a biohazard.

“i don’t even have a response. you win. congrats.”

he picks up his coat.

“i’m done. i’m not reacting to anything else. i’m retiring. delete the internet. burn this set down.”

he pauses at the door.

“i can’t keep doing this. i came here to promote my season, not read tweets written by possessed people with breeding kinks.”

and then he leaves.

[OUTRO – camera still rolling]

just as sae reaches the edge of the set, the producer calls out, “wait, sae—before you go…”

he stops. doesn’t look back.

“…what.”

the producer clears their throat, trying to sound casual. “so for the next video, we were thinking… maybe you react to those smut fanfics about you on tumblr?”

the room goes completely silent.

sae slowly turns around—painfully slow—like a horror movie villain who just got told the sequel is about him.

“…react to what.”

the producer shrugs. “y’know. ‘itoshi sae x reader,’ ‘nsfw minors dni 💕,’ ‘#smut’—”

he lifts a hand. they shut up immediately. he stares straight into the camera.

“…this channel needs jesus.”

then he walks off again, muttering, “i’m calling my lawyer. and my priest.”

cut to black.

[text on screen:]

coming soon: “itoshi sae reacts to tumblr fanfics about himself (pray for him)” subscribe for more emotional damage!

જ⁀➴ © sevarchive ✦ masterlist ; like/reblogs are appreciated ꣑ৎ

[soaps-mohawk]

Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.

It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 

As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.

Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Chapters containing smut are marked with a *

Join my Patreon for exclusives -> HERE

This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE

I will no longer be using a taglist for this fic, please follow THIS BLOG and turn on notifications

**This fic is currently in progress**

NAVIGATION PAGE

CRCB DIRECTORY

Part 1 - The Omega

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Chapter 5 - What I Want *

Part 2 - The Bond

Chapter 6 - One Step Closer *

Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry

Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost

Chapter 9 - Save Me

Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*

Part 3 - The First Heat

Chapter 11 - It's Coming

Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins*

Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together*

Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*

Part 4 - The New Normal

Chapter 15: Bonnie*

Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes *

Chapter 17: Alone

Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

Chapter 19: Daddy Issues

Chapter 20: The New Normal *

Chapter 21: Crime and Punishment *

Chapter 22: I Won't Be Gentle

Part 5 - A Pack of Five

Chapter 23: Regrets

Chapter 24: The Last First Time *

Chapter 25: Animals *

Chapter 26: Fuck *

Chapter 27: Drown In It *

Chapter 28: Two Is Company, Three Is A Party *

Chapter 29: There's Something Wrong With My Omega

Part 6 - The Tragedy

Chapter 30: Butterfly's Wings

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Chapter 32: The Tragedy

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Part 7 - The Aftermath

Chapter 35: Threads

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Chapter 37: The Silence

Chapter 38: Shattered

Chapter 39: Life

Part 8 - The Next Chapter

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here

Chapter 41: Revenge

Chapter 42: Comfort and Joy

Chapter 43: Lies

Chapter 44: Little Shit

Chapter 45: Heat of the Moment *

Chapter 46: My Girl *

Chapter 47: The Reunion

Chapter 48: Wild Times *

Chapter 49: Reforming Bonds *

Chapter 50: Flashback *

Part 9 - Finding Home

Chapter 51: Back To The Start

Chapter 52: The Rucking Princess

Chapter 53: Meeting the Family

Chapter 54: The Farm

Chapter 55: Finding Home *

Title card made by the beautiful @141wh0re

Chapter 56: Making Home *

Chapter 57: Reunited And It Feels So Good *

[thewritingfairy]

જ⁀➴Nobody's child

Inspired by @acid-ixx (undoing fate) (again & again), @rizzanon (undoing fate), @nikovraskol (crack baby)

main m.list bad ending m.list

↪ READER NOTES

-> disabled reader, reader's non-binary but hasn't come out yet, due to this pronouns she/they will be used.

↪ TRIGGER WARNINGS

-> emotional + physical + medical neglect, kidnapping, explosive anger, misgendering, grieve, mentions of murder, there will be individual trigger warnings on each chapter, more might be added

↪ SUMMARY

Sometimes pain can be an ephipany and bring perspective in someone's life.

In your case it finally made you stop chasing your family's love. It changed you, yes. But it did so for the better.

Just too bad that you needed to change before your 'father' and 'siblings' noticed what was wrong, and for that wrong to finally teach them you were always deserving of love and now you'll make your own story line.

↪ CHAPTERS

00. A plan to live

01. A job to pay the bills

02. A job interview gone right

03. To the ones that love you fully

04. Distraction is the best medication

05. Tim doesn't understand you

06. Your first day at work

07. An explosion of emotions

08. A state of dreams

09. Oh no!

10. Duke is done

11. Something is wrong

12. Confrontation gone wrong!

13. Damian attempts self-reflection

14. Chaos and Bruce's guilt

15. The beginning of the end

16. Anger is powerful

17. A deck of cards

18. For justice has many faces

19. For this end will not be in their favour

↪ SIDE STORIES

Jason's crime

Duke and (Name)

↪ DRABBLES, ONESHOTS

au: Poetic justice

Tim's debt

pride month special; gender dysphoria

Bruce's biggest mistake

A long day

Slade Wilson is petty

↪ ASKS

🪷anon 1 2 3 4 5

😶‍🌫️ anon 1 2 3

Realization and forgiveness

Tim cares (😶‍🌫️ anon)

Massive ick

Reader working with the villains

heirlooms

Will your friends be yandere?

Romance?

Counting days (😶‍🌫️ anon)

Tim 1 2

Incorrect quotes

They'll get worse

The worst yandere

Alfred's title

Abusive

Close parental figure

Jason's confrontation

CANON Bruce and NOBODY'S CHILD Bruce

↪ TAGLIST

@prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue, @bunniotomia, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @princessbonnie-bell, @seemee3, @pix-stuff, @venomsvl, @amber-content, @stove-top96, @frank-vanderboom, @leeiasure, @1abi, @shadowytravelerlover, @chericia, @lithiumval, @lingxio, @cssammyyarts, @marsmabe, @foolishseven, @kore-of-the-underworld, @bunbunboysworld, @homeless-clown, @miashico, @alwaysholymilkshake, @1cxndy, @kittzu, @rtyuy1346, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @artistwithcreativeburnout, @alishii, @vanessa-boo, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @91-kya, @ryuushou, @jjsmeowthie, @justthere1956, @depressed--therapist, @xzmickeyzx, @cheappremingerfromdelululand, @plsfckmedxddy, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @trashlaternfish360, @leogf, @dirtydiavolo, @lilyalone, @welpthisisboring, @kenman00001, @nxdxsworld, @icefox8155, @ironsaladwitch, @holderoflostmemories, @asillysimp, @wisefuncherryblossom, @eyeless-kun, @marina27826, @muggleloveralways, @ironsaladwitch, @shyenemyperson, @iamaunknownsecret

TAGLIST CLOSED

[softaestluv]

Grease & Grime Won’t Break Your Bones

You never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is.

Mechanic! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem! reader

Tags: dirty, greasy, grimy, sweaty, blue collar worker, yeah I’ll take one of those! you own a pick up, & I actually don’t know anything about cars, eventual smut

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Ao3 | masterlist

You’re entirely too eager to return to ‘Ghost’s Garage.’ Maybe you walk through the front doors of the rundown shop a little early, definitely do.

Your shitty pick-up probably only needs to be topped off, but you did drive 3000 miles, and it’s not like being on top of maintenance would hurt.

So, you brush your arrival off as maintaining the integrity of your pick-up, and not the fact that sweat drenched skin and a Manchester accent hasn’t left the confines of your mind since.

Unfortunately, you’re not greeted by Simon when you arrive, instead, blonde hair is replaced with a brown Mohawk, said English accent replaced by a Scottish one.

“Oi, hello lass!” The man greets, a wide smile on his lips.

“Oh, hi,” You respond, giving him a tight smile in return, “Is Simon not here?”

“Aye, he’s busy wi’ another car right now, but ah can help ye, nae worries,” He explains, with an encouraging nod.

You try your best to hide the disappointment in your tone, but its hard when you did your hair this morning with Simon in mind, when you wore your uncomfortable pencil skirt to work with him in mind, when you showed up after work instead of on your day off because you had been hoping that you could see him just as filthy after a full days of work.

“Ah, okay,” You mumble quietly, “I just need my oil changed is all.”

You can’t help, but mourn the money you’re about to spend on an oil change you don’t really need, when the whole reason you were so adamant to return isn’t plausible. It’s too late to walk out now, how desperate would you look if you left because Simon wouldn’t be the one working on your car?

So, you accept your fate, that it wasn’t in the cards, listen to the new man’s instructions and pull your truck into the service drive.

Guilt eats at your chest because it’s not really the mohawked mans fault; he isn’t even ugly, definitely a sight for sore eyes— desperate eyes that is. He wears less than Simon had, a white tank top that’s a little too tight for him, and worn in jeans with more than one rip in them. Wears it a little braver than Simon had, smug and confident, probably a heartthrob for all the mom’s cars he works on, probably flirts with all of them too with no actual intentions, just to make them feel good.

When you park in the service drive, your wandering eyes find Simon across the garage, bent over the hood of a car. It’s not your truck; you won’t get to talk to him, but you think it’s worth it when he’s bent so low over the sedan that his white shirt rises over his hips as he reaches forward. The sliver revealed is paler than the rest of his bronzed skin, freckles littered across the lighter flesh, draws excess saliva in your cheeks, embarrassingly so, over an inch of skin.

But it makes your mind wander, filthy images of connecting the sun marks with timid fingers and shaking hesitation, find out how far down the brown freckles trail.

You don’t have to imagine for long, not when he realizes you’re standing across the garage, gawking at him with a ravenous hunger in your eyes, and starts to walk over to you. He dabs at the sweat on his hairline, makes his shirt rise even higher, reveals light brown freckles curled over his abdomen and a blonde happy trail disappearing into his coveralls.

It’s almost impossible to force your eyes up, find his gaze when he’s walking around like that. With his fucking happy trail on display between the sweat drenched skin and grimy oil marks. The spitting image of a hard working man, powerful and stout, makes a stinging warmth coil in your limbs, thighs pressing tightly together.

“Hi,” You squeak when he stops in front of you, cheeks burning hot in embarrassment because you can’t decide if getting caught drawing lewd shapes with his freckles outweighs the reward of him approaching you.

“Hi, sweeth’art.”— and you decide right then and there that getting caught was worth it when the deep timbre of his voice washes over your shoulders.

He’s positively filthy, more so than last time.

Wet, greasy.

You can smell it on him just as strongly as you can see it on his skin. Like car oil that sat out for too long, the rubber burnt off tires.

A heavy musk, acrid, pungent odor.

You have half the mind to know you should be disgusted by it, that a dirty mechanic calling you a term of endearment should crawl under your skin and make you uncomfortable, but it does the complete opposite. It’s not like you have much of a fight in that game when you were just greedily memorizing his blonde tufts of hair, picturing how it would curl over his pelvis, matted and damp from his hard work.

Even still, you’re pinpointing all the places fingerprint grease stains would imprint on your skin in his wake. How thick the layers of sweat and grime would taste on your tongue.

“Johnny, I got ‘his one, okay?” He shouts to the other side of the garage.

Johnny wears a devious smirk on his face, but Simon doesn’t let you see it for long, shifting to face you just as quickly as he wore it.

You’re not sure if you took a step forward or if Simon was standing this close to begin with. Maybe he was just truly this massive, but you have to tilt your head back just to look at him. He doesn’t necessarily make it easy either, not when he stares down at you with piercing eyes, makes you feel out of your own skin.

“You jus’ need yer oil again?” He asks.

You nod, licking your lips, “Yes, but I thought you were busy? You don’t have to stop to help.”

“Don’t y’worry,” He reassures, shaking his head, “I’ll do it, told you t’come back ‘n you listened didn’t ya?”

You can’t do anything else but nod because you did listen, practically thought of any excuse to find yourself back in his office, his thick build over your engine over you, as soon as possible.

Simon’s lips twitch at your agreement, “Jus’ sit in my office, yeah? No worries, I’ll take care of you.”

You find yourself back in Simon’s office, a warmth to your skin that you can’t seem to shake, not when you keep thinking of every imaginable way he could take care of you. It only gets worse when you perch yourself on the edge of the seat to get the best view of him working on your pick-up.

Maybe it’s something primal, but seeing his large frame bent over, working on your truck and not someone else’s sedan flares satisfaction in your chest. Especially when you watch his sweat drip from his forehead onto your engine, splattered droplets on your blue hood.

If it was anyone else it would make your stomach twist in disgust, gnawing at the back of your mind until you could wipe the hood clean, but it’s not. You’re not entirely sure why you feel this way, maybe it’s his physique that allows you to brush these things off, but it scratches at something carnal in your conscious.

You don’t get much time to appreciate the divots in his shoulders and neck like you truly wanted, like a specimen of his kind really deserves, when Johnny walks in the room. You fall back into the chair quickly, trying to hide the way you were practically leaning forward desperately to see Simon.

He wears a knowing smile, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything about it, “Didnae think ma work would be up tae par?”

You chuckle lightly, shaking your head, “No, Simon insisted.”

“Never heard of tha’ man takin’ on extra work willingly,” He jokes, leaning against the window sill— quiet irritation settling in your stomach as he covers Simon completely from your view.

“Must be that skirt yer wearin’.”

Your eyes widen, face burning, “Jus’ my work clothes.”

You’re not lying, they are your work clothes, just happen to be the more form fitting ones, is all.

“And your work clothes?” You remark, arching your brow at him, gesturing from head to toe, because his outfit is entirely more barren than yours is.

“Workin’ man’s uniform,” He shrugs nonchalantly, but he struts across the thin office and does a twirl for you, propping his hip out as he poses.

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, Simon walks into the office.

“Johnny, I thought I told ya to stop harassin’ our customers.”

“Ah’m doin’ nae such thing. Just tellin’ lass here she might’ve got oil grease on her skirt.”

You furrow your brows at his words, looking down at the front of your skirt with a pout because you really didn’t want to stain the skirt without a purpose, except you don’t see anything.

“Nae, nae,” He shakes his head, gesturing to your back.

You do a spin of sorts, arching your head to find what he’s referring to.

“Johnny.” Simon spits.

His tone has more bite to it than you completely understand, but he grabs your arm, pushing you to face forward again.

“There’s nothin’,” Simon explains.

You’re still confused, brows still pinched together, until you look at Johnny, a proud smile smeared across his face.

“Aw, come on, ye liked it jus’ as much, Si,” Johnny teases, realization dawning on you, throat constricting in embarrassment, but he mumbles an apologize when he meets Simon’s scowl.

“Your pick-ups ready for ya,” Simon says, ignoring Johnny.

You follow him out of the office gratefully, too humiliated to even think for yourself right now.

“Is it too much?” You ask Simon with a frown.

“Huh?”

You tug on the seams of your skirt as an explanation.

“Oh,” He says before pausing, “No, no ‘ts not— you look great.”

“Thank you,” You murmur bashfully, atleast you got a compliment out of the whole ordeal, “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothin’.”

“No!” You protest, “You have to let me pay you back somehow!”

You’re not prepared for the way his expression changes, irises dipping into something dark, and you’re definitely not prepared for his next request.

“Do a twirl just f’me?”

✦.─Masterlist ─.✦

[onceinablueberrymoon]

made for this | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | series masterlist scenario: pregnant!reader has a doctor’s appointment and wants to help husband!salesman by recruiting some new players at the clinic. the salesman has a different idea in mind… setting: a couple months after the events of season 1; sequel to this but can be read as a stand-alone fic warnings: pregnant!reader; a bit of spice and a lot of fluff; both reader and salesman feel morally superior to others; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 931 notes: thank you all for the love on the first part! i hope i didn’t make the salesman too ooc, i try to keep things as accurate to the show as possible! but i think he is somewhat capable of having soft moments, although very rarely. i have at least one more idea for this series (if it can even be called that), so be on the lookout for that ٩>ᴗ<)و (also if anyone has any ideas for this ship, send them my way!) please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“Hey, can I borrow some business cards? I have an appointment at the clinic today and thought I’d pass some out.”

At your call, your husband walked into the bedroom to find you standing in front of the mirror next to your shared bed, adjusting your outfit for the day. He crossed his arms.

“I don’t think so. Any public involvement with the Games could endanger you,” his gaze lingered on your swollen stomach. He sighed, “You can’t defend yourself in your condition, no matter how much you think you can.” 

You just rolled your eyes and shot him a piercing look. 

“My pregnancy doesn’t impact my job, though. I can take care of myself just fine.” You took a couple steps towards him. “Who’s the one who befriended Gi-hun again? You?” You looked around the room before you pointed at yourself. 

“Me, that’s who,” you grinned proudly, only for your husband to cover his face with his hands, his patience clearly running thin.

“Besides,” you shrugged, “it’s not like I’ll be playing ddakji and smacking people. No, my dear husband, that’s your thing.” You brought a finger up to your lips. 

“I have my own ways to play.” You flashed a wicked smile towards your husband, causing him to shiver. 

Right there and then, you knew that you had won the battle.

…or so you thought.

In the blink of an eye, your husband swept you off your feet and pinned you on the bed with only one arm. Your startled expression pleased him judging by the wild look on his face. His unoccupied hand came to gently press on your growing stomach, adding to the tense situation. He brought his lips up to graze your ear.

“See how vulnerable you are? Just think,” he lightly bit at your helix, “others won’t be so nice.”

It was your turn to shiver. 

When you didn’t respond, he continued nibbling at your ear with his hand still firmly planted on your belly.

Soon after, he lifted his head and asked, “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He kissed you deeply, only breaking away to gasp for air. The most smug expression was plastered on his face. 

“Oh wait, I do.”

How cheeky of him. And cheesy, too! 

You huffed, “Wow, already starting with the dad jokes? And not even the good ones either.” His eyebrow quirked upwards before he bent down to press his nose against yours.

“Do you really want to play this game?” He whispered softly, causing you to shudder. “You know I always win.”

Turning your head to the right, you let out a small chuckle.

“Oh really?” You retorted, “Prove it.”

This sent him into a borderline frenzy as he started planting kisses down the side of your neck. You threw your arms around his neck, a smile on your face. Sometimes it was just too easy to manipulate him.

As he was about to leave a mark, a sharp movement stopped him in his tracks. He blinked, snapping out of his trance. You were both confused when there was another movement, although not as sharp as the first.

The two of you looked down at your rounded stomach, and your husband removed his hand. The baby’s kicks continued nearly every minute, while you both just watched, not moving a muscle. Then, your husband lifted himself up off of you, moving to sit on the bed beside you. You sat up and, taking one of his hands, gently laid it on your stomach. Your husband carefully wrapped an arm around you, now acting as if you were made of glass.

“They’re so active. Do you think,” he paused, then in a whisper, asked, “Do you think I hurt them?” 

“No… I think they’re just making themselves known,” you kissed him on the cheek. 

Both of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, only to soon realize that you were now running late for your appointment.

“Is there any chance I can still get those business cards?” You pleaded. 

Your husband chuckled, “Absolutely not. In fact, I’ll accompany you.” 

“I thought we weren’t allowed to be seen together in public?” You furrowed your eyebrows. 

He let go of you and turned to open his briefcase at the foot of the bed. Pulling out some files, he nodded, “There’s quite a few prospective players residing at that hospital. You attend your appointment, I’ll recruit more players.” He flashed his signature smirk, putting the files back in his briefcase.

“Wow, I thought you wanted to come to my appointment with me!” You laughed, giving him a light shove.

Your husband gave you a knowing look, “I can’t do that. But I expect a copy of the sonogram.” He stood up, holding out a hand for you to take.

“What a gentleman.” You took his offer and stood up.

Placing a hand on your husband’s chest, you teased, “Try to take it easy at the hospital, hm? Most of the prospects there are already on the verge of cracking. We don’t want to break them before the Games – it wouldn’t make for a good show.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, your husband pouted, “But where’s the fun in that?”

“Giving them a tiny sliver of hope, only to eventually rip it away…” You looked him straight in the eyes. “The suspense is so thrilling, don’t you think?”

“And here I was starting to think you weren’t cut out for the job,” he chuckled. He checked his watch, noting the time.

“We should get going – it’s rude to be late.” 

a/n: by the way, i don’t think i have it in me to write full-on smut, the most i can probably do is a bit of lime lol

tags: @preppyfella

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹📘Number of part: 30/30

⊹ Words: 224 018 k

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words, scenes of violence, coercion, psychological pressure.

⊹ 🫂Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and love you🥰💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋 Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad, @kelsyx33, @bhonbhon, @unholyforjk, @ambiee3, @mianhae-baozi , @someoneelse0109, @medstudentlifestyle, @mskookie, @kooccult, @smokinghotstargirl , @curse-of-art, @curse-of-art2 @wintaemoonjen, @jungkookswifeeeeeee, @someonegoood, @kooko009, @indigomoonchild09, @zeytiable (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

⌖ Part 1. These fucking rules.

⌖ Part 2. In theory.

⌖ Part 3. The most real type.

⌖ Part 4. Taste of divine.

⌖ Part 5. Someone from the past.

⌖ Part 6. A school friend and an offer that's hard to refuse.

⌖ Part 7. A good student.

⌖ Part 8. That man driving the Mercedes.

⌖ Part 9. Knows what no one else knowing.

⌖ Part 10. Mine.

⌖ Part 11. Not your girlfriend. Not your boyfriend.

⌖ Part 12. Christmas trip to Niseko.

⌖ Part 13. Between despair and desire.

⌖ Part 14. A gift for Christmas.

⌖ Part 15. Who are you, Jungkook?

⌖ Part 16. Read my love.

⌖ Part 17. The flame of sympathy.

⌖ Part 18. Dangerous.

⌖ Part 19. Kidnapped under the glow of fireworks.

⌖ Part 20. House of Cards.

⌖ Part 21. The Dance of Souls on the Edge of the Abyss.

⌖ Part 22. Stop resisting. We are inevitable.

⌖ Part 23. The point of no return.

⌖ Part 24. The plan to destroy and the heart of the Queen. 

⌖ Part 25. Black Dust.

⌖ Part 26. Gold on the tip of the knife. 

⌖ Part 27. Under her heart is his future, behind their back is his past.

⌖ Part 28. Checkmate.

⌖ Part 29. Saved.

⌖ Part 30. A candy with the taste of revenge.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᰔᩚ Love Letter ᰔᩚ

[tsuy4n]

The Artist Who Lives for the Plot

Warning/s: Fem!Reader, Mild language/swearing, Still Chaotic™, Verbal bullying disguised as flirting, petty drama, reader still very much suffering (comically), Unwilling reverse harem, Reader is done with them all (not really)

[a/n]: Woo, Saja Boys! I have nothing important to say... Yeah, enjoy.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, >Part 7<

You woke up with a very specific kind of dread.

The kind that coils low in your gut and refuses to leave. The kind that whispers today's the day—and for once, it wasn't being dramatic.

You didn't need a vision. You didn't need tarot cards or the stars to align. You felt it in your bones. This was the day they'd come for you.

And not with knives.

Worse.

With words. With teasing. With war.

You should've known something was off the moment your phone started vibrating like it was trying to escape the counter while you were making breakfast.

A stream of unread messages from your friends (all clinically insane), your manager (marginally more functional), and one particularly concerning voicemail that simply said:

"Are you alive? Blink twice. The group chat is on fire."

You snorted.

Ironic.

You know what else had been on fire? Your apartment building.

You were tempted to reply with that, just drop it in the chat with no context. Let them laugh. Let them panic a little. Maybe both.

Yeah, you'll do that after finishing up your task.

You will, however, message your boss now. You can let your staff job end, but not the artist one. You didn't risk your life for the tablet and sketchbook just to let that career be done with after all.

Though, the real question was: Why the hell was your phone alive?

You'd gone to bed with it stone-cold dead—thanks to five fully grown men who all, very suddenly, refused to lend you a charger. Just for a few minutes. Just to send a single message.

It's not like you were going to report them to the police for emotional damage or something. (Though after their insults, you considered it)

All you needed was to text a friend. To ask if you could crash at their place.

To let someone know your place, and your charger, had both flatlined.

But no.

Petty. All of them.

But despite their words, here it was. Alive. Glowing. Thriving.

Weird morning. Especially because someone had knocked earlier. You opened it despite expecting it'd be one of those annoying boys who wanted nothing more than to already ruin this 'perfect' morning.

Instead?

No one. Just a charger that was neatly wrapped. Sitting there like a peace offering from the universe.

You stared at it for a solid ten seconds before picking it up. No note. No threatening aura. Just… a charger. New. Untouched. Slightly warm.

Whoever the hell left it—angel, ghost, early Santa, or tech fairy, you weren't going to complain.

You stopped believing in Santa years ago, but hey. If he was real and into USB-C now, you weren't about to argue.

You didn't ask questions and simply just took it with the thought: Whatever brings your phone back to life.

After checking your wound and changing the bandages, you made breakfast.

Left it in labeled containers, all carefully stacked in the fridge like some domestic housewife. Or maybe a single mother of five demonic children.

Speaking of five, they were out early. You didn't hear any ruckus or something...

You were probably just knocked out cold. The bed is comfy which is why you took it as them finally acting normal for once.

Who knows? Maybe they're at work, rehearsing like hell.

...

Hilarious.

They came back by noon.

You heard them the moment the front door slammed open—not closed, slammed—like their entrance needed to register on a seismograph.

Thudding boots, raised voices, obnoxious laughter. Not a conversation in sight. Just noise.

It wasn't "we're home."

It was we've returned to ruin your peace.

They'd arrived home loud, clearly on purpose.

Five hours of non-stop rehearsals (thanks to Jinu's tyrannical 6AM call time) and yet somehow, they still had the energy to cause problems.

Baby had flung the door open like a man returning from war, Abby dramatically limped inside like rehearsal had physically wounded him, and Romance whined about needing a new spine. Mystery just slipped through the doorway in silence. Classic.

But you hadn't come out to greet them.

That was weird.

Romance was the first to notice. He paused by your door, leaned in. No footsteps. No rustling. Not even your soft grumbling about noise levels or humanity's many flaws.

"...She asleep?" He murmured, only for no one to answer.

Mystery appears beside him and also copies his action.

Baby went into the kitchen to get a drink, only to stop dead when he noticed a note taped to the fridge. Sloppy handwriting. Quick.

'We're out of chili oil because a certain idiot poured the last bottle on popcorn. You know who you are. P.S. I'm not dead, just busy. Don't knock.'

"Uh…"

Baby didn't even get to finish his sentence before Abby appeared behind him, clearly sniffing around for leftovers. He read the note over his shoulder and blinked. "So she was here. We were gone for five hours."

"Looks like someone didn't miss us." Baby said, acting cool like he hadn't been waiting.

"Not even me?" Abby gasped.

The former scoffed, eyes flicking to his phone like he wasn't checking your activity again. "Romance gave her that charger for what, exactly?"

Jinu entered next, took one look at the note, and scoffed. "Fine. If she won't come to us, we'll drag her out by sheer emotional violence."

And thus, the siege began.

They stomped down the hallway like it was a runway, deliberately letting each step echo off the walls. One of them (Jinu, you'd bet your left kidney) even let out an exaggerated yawn as they passed your room.

"Oh nooo," He groaned, too loud, too fake. "I forgot what silence sounds like. I think I miss it already. Abby, can you mourn for me?"

A knock—just once, knuckle to wood, like a test. A challenge.

You didn't answer.

So they tried harder.

"You think she's still alive in there?" Jinu muttered, eyes fixed on the door like it owed him answers. "Or did she ascend after sketching us...ugh, kissing?"

Abby let out a low whistle, flipping through the sketchbook again with the delight of someone finding blackmail material. "That shading, though. Real passionate. Her lines screamed yearning."

"I'm gonna throw up." Jinu said flatly before shooting them a warning look. They were at it again.

It seems like all those practice they did in the morning weren't enough considering they still have some energy and the audacity to try again.

"You're just mad she captured your good side." Romance chimed in, grinning as he leaned over Abby's shoulder. "Look at you, all soft and pretty. You even clutched his shirt like it was life or death."

Baby didn't blink. He simply leaned back in his chair, smug as ever, resting one ankle over his knee. "Don't be jealous I photograph well. Besides, he was the one looking like he'd melt if I let go."

"I'm setting it on fire." Jinu muttered, voice sharp.

"Don't you dare." Abby hugged the sketchbook protectively. "This is historic. I'm framing it."

Baby just smiled. But his eye twitched.

Cue more dramatic wailing. A fake sob. Someone began slow-clapping—probably Abby. Someone else (definitely Romance) made a gagging sound.

You could hear them moving past your door again, one set of footsteps deliberately dragging like a corpse being hauled across the floor.

"Oh! Oh! Mystery." One of them crooned. "Hey, remember when she called you baby? That was so special."

If you didn't know any better, you'd think Romance was setting you up for some even more shit. That he is.

Another loud knock. Then a pause. Waiting.

Nothing from you.

They persisted. They wanted to see your face. Wanted to hear the click of your door. Wanted you to snap.

"Do you think if I cry enough, she'll call me baby? No? What about 'cursed little meow-meow'?" Romance tried, far too casually for someone begging. "I'd settle for that."

He sounded so sure. Like this was a reasonable negotiation. Like this wasn't the third time this week he tried to emotionally blackmail his way into affection.

Abby scoffed from behind him, arms crossed. "Mystery didn't even ask. She just favored him. Like some divine right.”

There was venom there. Not real, not deadly—just the kind that bubbled out when pride was bruised and someone else had been crowned king.

Jinu leaned against the wall outside her door, voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Must be nice, huh? Getting your favorite sketched like he's some tragic Greek hero."

Baby nodded solemnly, tapping on the door. "Some of us get drawn in traffic. He gets drawn in lighting."

Jinu sighed. "You ever see how soft the shading was? She shaded his jawline like she loved him."

"Meanwhile, I looked like a tax scam with legs." Baby added, a quiet hum of betrayal in his voice. "My hands weren't even finished. Scribbled. Like an afterthought."

Jinu cupped his mouth and turned to the door. "Hey, [Y/n]? I get it. You've got your muse. But he better be paying rent for that kind of favoritism."

From the living room, you could hear someone snort. Probably Romance. Abby muttered something about needing popcorn.

Mystery didn't flinch. Reclined on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, he looked like the picture of disinterest, arms folded, a slow, steady breath. Unbothered.

But the others were watching him.

They didn't say it, not outright, but it was all over their faces. Jinu tilted his head, like he was trying to figure out what game Mystery was playing.

Baby had gone quiet, unusually so, a little wrinkle forming between his brows. Romance narrowed his eyes just slightly, like he could read something in Mystery's posture that he didn't like.

And Abby? He looked like he'd bitten into something bitter.

Mystery didn't gloat, didn't rise to meet their silent accusations, didn't need to. He was calm. Maybe he was smug. Maybe he was just still. Either way, the others noticed.

Silence was a power move. Still, he glanced toward the hallway, just in case.

Baby gave your door one last mournful pat. "At least tell me—was it a kiss with meaning? Or just for shading practice? Because I need to know if I should feel violated or flattered."

Jinu muttered, "We weren't even posed right. My hand was—why was my hand on your thigh, man?"

Baby didn't look at him. "Don't speak to me."

At the other side, your grip on your pen tightened.

So this was the game.

A full petty-voiced, hallway-stomping, emotionally-damaged-circus-level bait operation.

Fine. You have time for this game. You talked to your friends, and you've already announced you're going on a short hiatus on your story.

You've buried men for less.

And yet, you didn't fall for it. Not immediately. Not when they started sighing like they were dying. Not when Baby fake-cried like a wounded anime sidekick.

Not even when they escalated into what could only be described as a coordinated psychological operation powered entirely by delusion, desperation, and unchecked male ego.

For exactly sixty-three minutes and forty-nine seconds, you waited.

You listened.

Every dramatic thump against the wall. Every exaggerated groan. Every insult flung at each other with the kind of flair that only heartbreak, insecurity, and mild art critique could birth. And worse? The teamwork.

Despite everything, they were still outside. Obviously.

Baby was sprawled on the floor like he'd been personally wronged by art itself. One leg twitched lazily as he nursed an imagined injury, muttering to no one in particular.

Jinu sat beside him with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his whole posture radiating indignation. "It's the proportions for me," He said. "Like—why would she give you a back like that? You look like you lost a fight with a baguette."

"No." Baby replied deeply, still staring at the ceiling. "She did that on purpose. I can feel it. That was targeted."

Romance didn't even respond. He was halfway through braiding his own hair with mechanical precision, each twist tighter than the last, as if his anger could be woven into rope.

Abby had gone eerily still. He sat with his arms propped on his knees, hands folded together like he was at a funeral. His eyes were locked on the door. No smirk. No commentary. Just quiet calculation. He hadn't blinked in minutes.

And Mystery… was curled into the far end of the couch, phone in one hand, thumb scrolling idly. He hadn't said a word since they'd started complaining, but his eyes flicked to the hallway every so often. Like he was listening for footsteps. For you.

You haven't come out no matter how much they tried to lure you. They were starting to get restless. At this point one of them was considering breaking down that door.

Or maybe they all did—

Click

The sound of the door unlocking sliced through the silence like a shot. Every head turned.

The door creaked open.

You stepped out, expression unreadable, a pad of paper cradled in one hand like it was something holy. Or dangerous. No fanfare. No apology. Just a quiet, steady calm that made the air feel heavier.

The boys stared.

Your eyes swept over them one by one, patient and clinical, as if you were observing a still life instead of a group of deeply offended demons.

Jinu squinted at you, like your existence alone was a personal attack. His arms were crossed, one brow raised, but his posture was too stiff—like he'd been waiting too long to act casual about it now.

"Oh, wow." He said, his tone all airy mockery. "Look who finally showed up. Should we clap? Or are you saving that for your next emotionally damaging masterpiece?"

You paused, eyes flicking over him in that slow, indifferent way you always did when he was performing. And he was performing.

Trying too hard. Smiling too wide. Letting his voice lift just a little too much on the sarcasm.

Jinu hated that about himself.

That whenever you didn't seem to care, whenever you looked bored or distracted or like your mind was somewhere else—he tried harder. Louder. Sharper.

Like if he could just say the right line, pull the right face, maybe you'd stop looking past him.

It was pathetic.

It was compulsive.

It was you.

"I mean," He added with a little shrug, voice curling at the edge, "if you were aiming for psychological terrorism, the 'kissing-Baby' bit really was inspired. Or do I need to thank you for exploring my sexuality for me?"

You blinked once, slowly. Then took a step forward.

It was so small. So casual. But the hallway shifted with it.

Jinu's mouth opened like he was about to keep talking, but his breath hitched just slightly. He didn't move. Didn't blink.

He thought maybe you'd say something sharp, something mean.

Instead, you just looked at him with a calm that felt unfair. Like you'd already won. Like you didn't even need to try.

"I think," You said, voice calm and thoughtful. "I need to push my art more."

The hallway went still.

The kind of still where even the walls seemed to hold their breath. Your tone hadn't been aggressive, but it carried the weight of certainty, like someone casually preparing to make a deal with the devil and fully expecting to win.

Romance's fingers halted mid-braid. Jinu's mouth hung open slightly, unsure whether to laugh or argue. Abby blinked once, very slowly, like he was rebooting.

Baby's smirk was gone.

He stared at you, not in anger, but in something far more unsettling—stillness. The kind of stillness that predators had when watching something unfamiliar walk into their territory. He wasn't unnerved. But he wasn't amused anymore either.

You took a step forward, just one, but it was enough. Baby straightened automatically, as if something in him recognized the shift even before his mind caught up.

You met his gaze and didn't look away.

"I'm thinking something more textured next time." You said quietly. "Maybe oil. Or charcoal. Something that clings to the page. Something that… glistens."

Jinu let out a breath like he'd been punched in the stomach. "What? No. No glistening. We are not glistening."

You tilted your head slightly, gaze flicking toward Baby. "You wouldn't mind modeling, would you?"

He raised an eyebrow slowly, his expression unreadable. "You sure you want to test that?" He asked, tone flat.

"I'm very sure," You replied, your voice smooth, unhurried. "Because I'm good at capturing the details people try to hide. And I think you have a lot of them."

For a long moment, Baby didn't answer. He just stared back at you, the usual glint in his eyes dulling into something colder, something quieter. Not quite respect. Not quite challenge. But close to both.

Then he shifted his weight back, jaw tightening just slightly.

You smiled. "There it is."

That was when your tone shifted, light and syrupy. "You gonna say something stupid again with that pretty mouth, sweetheart?"

It hit like a slap. Jinu audibly choked. Romance blinked. Mystery...he's Mystery. Abby turned his head so fast his hair fell into his eyes.

Baby still didn't react—not in any obvious way. But his mouth parted just enough to speak, then didn't. He breathed out through his nose.

The eye contact broke only when your gaze went to the paper in your arm. They still had the sketchbook, taking turns in getting to look at it over and over again like something so sacred, keeping it to their room like it rightfully belonged to them.

No matter. As long as they're careful in handling it, it's fine.

Besides, you'll take it back eventually.

You looked up with polite interest, like a doctor calling the next patient.

"Well then," You said, smiling sweetly like some psychopath. "Who's first?"

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then, in the hushed horror of what had just transpired, Jinu went and leaned slightly toward the others and whispered, "Did she just flirt?"

"I think?" Romance asked, blinking like he'd been hit with a flashbang.

Abby squinted. "I feel like I should be taking notes. That felt like flirting and a felony."

"She called me sweetheart." Baby appeared beside them. He blinked once. Slow. Like a program was loading.

Then he tilted his head, lips quirking into that faint, unreadable smirk. "Huh. Didn't know we were doing pet names now. Should I start calling her 'pumpkin' or would that get me stabbed?"

"She's never called any of us sweetheart." Jinu remarks, trying to snap him out of it. "She usually calls us things like 'emotionally bankrupt' or 'a waste of good paper.'"

"Maybe she really hit her head." Romance suggests the thought.

Abby wheezed then glanced a concerned look towards your way.

Meanwhile, you gave them all a pointed once-over, chin tilting up, the smugness practically glowing off you like a sunburn of pride.

"Thought so." You said with a casual flick of your wrist, like they were beneath you artistically and evolutionarily.

And with that, you turned and disappeared into the kitchen like a final boss retreating to your lair.

The five of them stared at the doorway long after you were gone.

"…So we all saw that, right?" Jinu whispered.

"Yeah." Romance said with a blink then nod. "Yeah, we saw her unlock something. In him."

Baby didn't speak. He just picked up the sketchbook that was on the couch like it was holy scripture, and followed after you.

"Don't do it." Jinu called after him.

"I'm not doing anything." Baby replied, voice airy, innocent. Not turning around. Not slowing down either, as he padded toward the kitchen like a man on a mission.

"You're gonna do something." Mystery said flatly. He didn't even sound annoyed—just resigned. The same tone you'd use watching a cat slowly inching toward the one fragile thing on a shelf.

He knows his friend after all.

Baby didn't answer.

But Abby shifted. He slouched, he stretched one leg across the couch like he was settling in for a show, then spoke without looking at anyone.

"He's not special." Abby muttered, eyes fixed on the large window or the view outside. The words came out too fast, too flat—like he was trying to convince someone. Maybe them.

Maybe himself.

But the bitterness slipped through anyway, quiet and sharp like a splinter. And he didn't take it back.

Because he was the one you handed the sketchbook to. You trust him.

So he sat back like it didn't matter. Like he hadn't just clocked the way Baby lit up, or the way the others went quiet.

If there was a race, Abby was already ahead. He just had to make sure it stayed that way.

And from the corner, Mystery turned.

No words. No sound. Just that slight shift. That impossible-to-miss stillness.

Abby didn't look at him. Didn't need to. He could feel it, the weight of that stare, even with Mystery's face half-buried under that wall of hair.

You could never tell what he was thinking, but somehow, it always felt like he knew everything. Like he saw the crack before it even formed.

The glance wasn't sharp, or cruel. But it landed. Quietly. Deeply.

Abby felt it slice clean through the confidence he wore like armor. He exhaled slowly, jaw tight.

Inside the kitchen, you were mid-sip of your drink, leaning against the counter with the kind of smug satisfaction usually reserved for cartoon villains.

Your expression froze the second you noticed movement. And then you sighed.

"Oh god. I can feel the stupid from here." You muttered, not even looking up. "What do you want now?"

"Peace." Baby said innocently. He stepped into the light, sketchbook still hugged to his chest, his eyes wide and glittering with the kind of faux-humility that could only mean trouble. "Forgiveness. Maybe a hug."

Your stare didn't falter. "You want me to kill you. Got it."

He clicked his tongue and grinned. "C'mon, don't be shy. I bring holy artifacts and everything." He waved the sketchbook vaguely before tucking it under his arm.

You raised a brow, unimpressed. "So now it's holy?"

"To me, yeah. It has my face in it. Multiple times."

"Defaced, you mean."

He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "Only because you see me as art, and art demands suffering."

You made a noise between a scoff and a laugh, and he seized it immediately.

"Oh?" He leaned closer now, elbow on the counter, chin on his palm. "Did you just giggle, Sunshine?"

You visibly recoiled, feeling a sense of deja vu. "Don't call me that."

"But you like it." He said, eyes lighting up. "Remember the face you made when I first called you that? Priceless. Like you'd just been personally victimized by verbal affection."

"I will throw this cup." You sweetly tell him.

"You won't. You like me too much."

Arrogant bastard. But you didn't deny it... idiot.

You went quiet. The slow blink. The blank expression. The subtle reach toward the drawer where the knives lived.

Baby grinned. "See? That's the face. You do like me."

He's repeating lines from that day.

But of course, you didn't flinch. Didn't blink. You just lifted your drink and sipped it like it was wine and not sad powdered juice from the pantry.

"Like is a strong word."

"I'd settle for 'tolerate,'" He offered, smile still sharp, cocky. "Or 'secretly obsessed with but emotionally repressed and incapable of showing it without threats of violence.'"

You raised a brow. Then snorted.

"Believe what you want, Captain Ego."

Baby's smile twitched but before he could make a comeback, you had stepped forward and without ceremony patted his head. Twice. Right on the crown like a kid, or a gremlin, or a cat who'd just bitten someone and was now pretending it hadn't.

"There. Gold star for effort." You said, voice mock-sweet.

Baby visibly froze.

Not just paused. Froze.

His body was still but his brain? His brain was running emergency diagnostics in real time.

System reboot. Confidence overflow. Cooldown: 6–8 business days.

And of course, of course, this was when the others decided to show up.

From the open kitchen archway, four heads peeked around the corner like nosy neighbors.

Romance's eyes narrowed. "I'm the one who wanted head pats and he gets it?? Unbelievable."

"Favoritism." Jinu muttered beside him. He didn't know how many times he'd said that word this week, but he was prepared to keep repeating it like a broken record until he got a turn in that sacred spot. Soon. (Hopefully.)

Beside them, Abby scoffed, casually adjusting the hem of his fitted floral shirt as a breeze (conveniently) fluttered by, lifting the fabric just enough to flash the golden ratio of abs to skin.

"Can't say I blame her." He said, voice smooth, that same faint smirk curling his lips. His gaze softened, just a bit when he recalled something sweet from last night.

"But if it's abs she's into..." He glanced at Baby with something that wasn't quite disdain, but close. "She's already seen the best."

Mystery looked at him, expression unreadable as ever with all those hair. "You've said that three times today."

"And I'll keep saying it." Abby replied, his tone light but far-off, as if reliving the scene in his head all over again. "She gave me the sketchbook. Out of all of us."

Romance groaned. There he goes again. "You're reading into it. She just handed it to whoever was closest."

"I wasn't the closest." Abby's voice dipped just slightly, enough to sound almost wounded. "She chose."

"Okay, Narcissus." Jinu muttered. "Maybe let go of the echo and step into reality."

But Abby was already lost in thought, or was just ignoring him.

From the back, Mystery looked vaguely offended on principle. Meanwhile, Jinu looked like he was about to start a petition.

And Baby? Still frozen in place, one hand hovering over his hair like he'd just witnessed a miracle.

You gave them a saccharine smile. "Try harder." You sing-songed, walking past like you hadn't just emotionally defenestrated someone.

As you disappeared back into the living room, Baby finally moved—lifting a hand to his head like the phantom touch had short-circuited him.

"She touched me." He muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Romance shoved past him. "Good. Move. It's my turn in the emotionally confusing spotlight."

You were curled up on the couch now, one leg tucked under the other, scrolling through your phone like a queen basking in her hard-won victory.

The living room had settled into a temporary calm—no more chaos, no more weird interrogations or backhanded compliments. Just you, the couch, and sweet, sweet digital nothingness.

That is, until a shadow fell over your screen.

"Hey." Romance said, stepping into view like he was making his grand entrance in some drama. His smile was soft. A little dreamy. Uncharacteristically quiet.

You blinked up at him, half-expecting another dumb line or one of his dramatics. After all, he had been thick as thieves with the three stooges who tried to ragebait you earlier.

But the expression on his face wasn't smug or teasing. It was… expectant. Like he wanted this to go right.

From behind his back, he pulled out a paper bag—worn on the edges like he'd been handling it too long or many times.

You raised a brow, suspicious. "If this is another prank, I'm letting Abby shoot you."

Romance snorted, but the way he sat beside you felt careful. Like he didn't want to ruin the moment before it began. "Relax. It's not cursed or anything. Just saw something online and thought of you."

You peeked inside.

And stopped.

Inside were art supplies—sketchpads, a pristine set of colored pencils, technical pens and pencils. High-end ones, too. The kind you used to stare at behind glass or scroll past with a sigh.

They looked expensive, sure, but that wasn't what made your chest ache.

It was the fact that someone thought of you at all.

You hadn't held materials this new in... you didn't even know how long. Just that it felt like forever. Long enough to forget what it felt like to be seen.

Your throat tightened. You blinked hard and swallowed it back.

"This—" Your voice cracked, embarrassingly thin. You cleared it fast and tried again. "This is for me?"

Romance nodded, feeling a bit shy under your gaze.

"For our artist-in-residence," He said, voice lower now. Gentler. "Figured you might want these. You know... since you lost your stuff."

You stared down at the contents, and something lodged itself in your throat.

He wasn't being flashy. Or flirty. Or insufferable.

Just… kind.

You turned your head away quickly, as if you were just adjusting your seat. But Romance stilled. For one agonizing second, he thought he'd messed up. That maybe it reminded you too much of everything you'd lost.

But then he saw you turn back, beaming like he just gave you the stars. A smile so real, so bright, so enchanting, it nearly bowled him over.

"Thank you, Rome."

Rome. A nickname. A soft one. He swore he heard distant bells.

Romance practically sparkled. "That's it? No 'good boy'? No head pats? Nothing?"

"Don't push it, Valentine." You said with a playful side-eye.

He clutched his chest like you'd wounded him, then burst into a warm laugh that filled the space between you.

"Want me to pose for your first masterpiece? Maybe shirtless? With grapes?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you hugged the bag to your chest.

"Go touch grass."

Jinu leaned against the nearest wall, arms crossed, a permanent scowl on his face. That bag you were holding looked like it belonged in a museum the way you were staring at it.

"That traitor." He muttered under his breath—low, like a hiss. But the bite in his voice dulled when he saw how soft your eyes had gone. His shoulders dropped a little.

Mystery stood beside Baby. No one could tell what kind of look he was giving you and Romance, but he did let out a little growl.

For some reason he feels threatened.

"Well played, Romance." Abby's voice came from the back. He huffs with his arms folded in front of his chest.

Baby squinted at the both of you like he was watching a scene from a cheesy romcom.

"What's next? Gonna feed him strawberries on a chaise lounge?" He scoffed, lips twisting into a pout that was 30% judgment and 70% hurt ego.

The living room was peaceful for exactly three seconds.

Then Jinu flung himself onto the armrest beside you like he was auditioning for a tragic opera. One hand over his heart, the other gesturing wildly.

"There she is," He declared, loud enough to summon ghosts. "The artist. The Rembrandt of betrayal."

You didn't even blink at his appearance. "Oh, sorry— I didn't realize the victim complex had legs."

Abby blinked. Baby choked on a snort. Romance discreetly turned his laugh into a cough. Even Mystery looked mildly entertained.

Jinu gaped, hand flying to his chest. "Excuse me?!"

You twirled your pencil like a knife. "You heard me, Kissyface."

He rose to his full height, indignant and dramatic. "You think just because you can smudge graphite like some charcoal-stained oracle from a crumbling dynasty, you have the right— the audacity— to pair me with him?!"

"Face it." You said coolly, resting your chin on your hand as if this was a courtroom drama and you were the judge. "You two had chemistry."

Baby scrunches his face in disgust.

Jinu looked like you'd just accused him of catching feelings (towards you, yes). "Chem—chemistry?! I was leaning in to threaten him!"

"And he leaned back." You replied, all sugar and venom, hands clasped like you were praying for his downfall. "With trust. And yearning."

He pointed at you like a scandalized noble on the verge of a duel. "I want a redraw. And I want it ugly. I want veins. Put rot in my eyes. Make me look like a cursed oil painting someone keeps in a locked basement."

You tilted your head. "Oh? Going for realism, are we?"

"No!" He snapped, flinging his arms up. "I want to haunt people. I want parents to shield their children. I want to be the reason someone drops their croissant."

"Aww~" You cooed, lashes fluttering. "I didn't know you wanted a self-portrait."

The boys oooohh'd like it was a street fight with no ref. Even Mystery coughed behind his hand.

Jinu narrowed his eyes, stepping closer until his knee brushed yours. "You think you're so clever, huh?"

You stood up slowly, letting the tension build between you. "I don't think," You smirked, flicking the chain around his neck just to watch it swing. "I know."

For a moment, neither of you moved. It was all smirks and sharp gazes, tension thick enough to carve names into.

Jinu didn't flinch. He leaned in like he was about to whisper a secret, voice low and wicked. "Careful. You keep poking around like that, you might wake something up."

You didn't back down. "What, your ego?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, sharp and reluctant. Like he hated that he liked the way you talked to him.

Too close. Too loud. Too much.

You were too much, and it was starting to get under his skin—in a way he couldn't shake off. Not since you got his attention that day and actually looked at him like he was human.

Or when you sympathized with him, like you understood something unspoken in him before he even realized he wanted someone to.

And definitely not since you smiled. That one smile. Casual. Soft. Stupidly bright.

It had no right to stick to his ribs the way it did, replaying in his head like a curse.

"I—" Jinu blinked, caught off guard by his own voice. His eyes flicked to your lips, then back up.

He didn't know what he was about to say. Maybe something dumb. Maybe something true. Maybe something that would ruin the game you two were playing.

But before he could speak again, you were lifted.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

One second, you were standing your ground like someone ready to square up. The next, your feet left the floor abruptly, without warning, and a solid arm hooked under your knees like you were some stray kitten getting evicted from a crime scene.

"Up we go." Abby muttered, casual as ever, like you didn't just shriek in protest. Like this wasn't your emotional high point being hijacked in broad daylight.

"ABBY—!"

No response. No guilt. Just him adjusting your weight midair and—god—flipping you around until your arms were over his shoulders like a human backpack.

He moved toward the couch, posture unbothered, eyes half-lidded as he cast a quick glance at Jinu, who still hadn't moved. But his eyes? They were darker than before.

"Looked tense. I'm saving your life." Abby added lazily, as if he were rescuing you from something dangerous.

He settles you down beside Baby like you were cargo being relocated.

The said person (demon) made a noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. "...You pick her up every time you feel threatened. It's getting predictable."

He swung one leg over the other and looked like this was all deeply exhausting to watch. Then he smirked, leaned in, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

"Bold of you to assume I ever feel threatened." Abby called back, unbothered by the sight.

Whereas, Mystery appears just as smoothly, slipping into your other side like he'd been waiting for his cue. He said nothing, just reached down and took your hand.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it belonged there.

He laced your fingers through his, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

You glanced at him, questioning, maybe even accusing—but he didn't look back. Only watched Jinu, eyes narrowed just slightly, as if calculating whether he’d need to step in again.

"She looks better over here anyway." He said under his breath, voice light but just smug enough to needle.

"Oh, come on." You groaned, trying to shift under the weight of Baby's arm and Mystery's hold. "What is this, a security protocol?"

Romance and Abby now flanked Jinu, all three of them watching with a flicker of amusement like this was some kind of sitcom. You glared at the black-haired boy in the middle.

He's lucky he's got his underlings, otherwise you would've gladly made him eat his own medicine.

Seriously. What the hell was happening?

Was the world ending? Were you dying? Why were they all so touchy all of a sudden?

No—on second thought, this looked less like a tragedy and more like a magazine cover. You felt like you were five seconds away from a reverse harem photo shoot.

And honestly? It was never not flattering to be surrounded by beautiful men.

Even if said beautiful men were absolute children half the time, dragging you into their playground-level power games with zero warning.

The chaos, of course, did not end there. That had only been the opening act.

Because for the rest of the day, the boys turned it into a group effort. They were teaming up now.

Nothing new but it was still horrifying in itself.

Abby kept flirting like he was God's favorite creation. Shirt unbuttoned just enough to showcase the beginnings of his abs (he swore it was just hot in the kitchen, but you knew better), throwing wink after wink like he had them on a timer.

At one point, he leaned against the fridge and actually said, "Go ahead, babe. One-time offer to touch perfection."

You didn't even hesitate.

You pressed a palm to his stomach like a scientist taking samples, all business.

"Good texture." You said calmly as if this was no big deal. "I'm using you for a villain character. Thanks."

Abby froze. Romance choked on his orange juice.

Mystery was subtler. Of course he was. That was his whole thing—sly smiles and thoughtful little gestures that he always passed off as nothing.

He lurked close but never too close, brushed your hair back from your eyes with an excuse about ink smudges, handed you your favorite mug without being asked, adjusted the hoodie on your shoulder like it was a cape that needed fixing. (It just came to you that you needed your own clothes)

When you called him out for trying to "boyfriend" you, he blinked and just gave you a tiny smile without walking away.

You didn't know how to react so you walked away.

Now, Romance was the real threat.

He didn't need volume or antics. He simply existed and said sweet things like he was breathing them out. Flirted because he felt immune. Like he'd earned some sort of title—King of [Y/n]'s Soft Spot, or something equally ridiculous. You suspected he was right.

The others definitely felt it. Especially when you prepped some fruits and left out a personal plate for him.

Mystery saw it. He felt a sense of betrayal.

Because it felt like just yesterday—actually, it was yesterday—when no one was happy about him being the favorites. And now? Now you were just hand-feeding the enemy.

Which is why Baby had thrown himself across your lap for absolutely no reason.

"I think I'm dying." He muttered, flopping dramatically, cheek pressed to your thigh. "My head hurts. I need someone warm and comforting."

"You need a lobotomy." You replied flatly, not budging. "Get off."

He didn't. And maybe out of pity, maybe out of distraction, maybe just because you were scrolling through your phone and not really thinking—you started carding your fingers through his teal hair.

You didn't look down, didn't pause. Just kept scrolling as your nails gently scraped his scalp. You felt him freeze for a moment, then slowly relax.

Then came that smirk. The lazy, smug one.

You didn't look, but you knew. If he said a single word—

"Try. I swear I'm throwing you across the room."

He snorted. "Kinky."

You tried to shove him off, but he only let out a deep laugh, hooking his arms around your waist—or was that a hug? You weren't sure, only that his grin got wider.

They were relentless, but so were you. Always had been. Ever since day one, and you weren't about to roll over and let them have all the fun.

They wanted a rival? They got one.

Sure, they tried to bring you down. Ragebait you. Pick you apart piece by piece until you snapped. But you’d learned from the best.

His name was Gumball Watterson.

After all their shenanigans, you were starving. Which brings us here.

Currently stationed in the kitchen, you were handling dinner prep—volunteered, basically. It just didn’t sit right, letting the sketchbook pass off as payment.

Sure, they were rich, but you didn't like being indebted. Not for free food. Not for hot baths. Not even for reliable Wi-Fi.

You told yourself that until you had money in hand and could confidently slap it down with a smug little grin, you'd pull your weight in the kitchen.

You were in your own world.

The kitchen felt too big for one person, but you weren't complaining. Sleek marble counters. Gas stove. Cabinets that opened like magic with the slightest push.

It was the kind of kitchen you used to pause TikToks over just to stare at the layout. The kind you'd sketch in notebooks when you were younger, dreaming of "someday."

And now, you were in it. Living in it. Okay, temporarily, but that didn't kill the magic.

You moved with purpose, multitasking without missing a beat—slicing vegetables with precision while mentally narrating scenes for a cooking vlog you'd never make. Something about "effortless meals in an effortless life," which was a lie, but you liked how it sounded.

And then, of course, you felt it.

A presence behind you. Soft, but deliberate. A little too close.

You didn't even need to look.

"Don't try me, Jinu." You warned, voice light, but sharp enough to pass as a threat. "I have a knife."

(You did. And maybe you were smiling a bit too much while saying that)

"So violent." His voice dripped with mock hurt, eyes wide in faux innocence. "And here I was, hoping to be greeted with a smile."

You turned, finding him leaning against the counter like this was his show. That stupid smirk on his face, eyes scanning the kitchen like he owned the place.

(Which, technically, he did. But you refused to give him the satisfaction)

"I came to assist." He added, still putting on the act, hands held up like he was unarmed and misunderstood.

You squinted at him. "You mean sabotage."

"I'd never." His voice was mock-hurt. "I'm deeply offended. Chef."

That last part was added with a slight bow and a flourish of his wrist, like he expected applause. You stared at him, unimpressed.

Still, you handed him a cutting board.

"Fine. But if you ruin this, I'll force-feed it to you and make you rate it out of ten."

"Is that a threat or a date?"

You pointed your knife at him. He wisely said no more.

You were attempting a Korean-Chinese dish you'd seen online: jjajangmyeon. Rich, savory, dark. You'd always wanted to try making it from scratch, but the ingredients were pricey, and the time? Yeah. Who had time?

Apparently, you did now.

There was something satisfying about the way Jinu moved around the kitchen. Efficient. Almost graceful. He didn't hover or get in your way, didn't try to take over. Just peeled and chopped quietly, following your lead. The rare type of kitchen partner who didn't make things harder.

You kept side-eyeing him, suspicious.

And yet—no salt where sugar should go. No "accidental" spills. No dumb prank involving wasabi and dessert.

Huh.

You caught yourself smiling, just a little. Just… enjoying it. The peace. The normalcy. A warm kitchen and the sound of bubbling sauce, someone next to you who wasn't trying to ruin your life.

Your fingers reached for the drawer to grab a ladle—

And stopped. A hand was already there.

Yours, and his.

You both looked down at the same time.

Silence.

His hand was larger than yours, but not by much. Calloused and warm. There was no weird tension, just a… pause.

Only this time, his fingers didn't freeze. They moved, slightly. As if hesitating between retreat and—

He noticed. The bandages.

The humor in his face faltered. Jinu's thumb barely skimmed your wrist before he gently turned your arm just enough to see the edge of the wrappings peeking past your sleeve. A light touch—quick, but careful.

You blinked at him.

He didn't say anything. Just stared at your forearm, then back up at you. Like he was assessing damage. Like he gave a damn.

Your brain short-circuited.

You looked at his hand still holding your arm. Then his face. Then back to his hand. Straight-faced. Frozen. Processing.

Jinu suddenly looked like he'd just realized he was touching a live wire.

He jolted upright. He retracted his hand so fast it almost looked rehearsed, like some mental protocol kicked in. His arms snapped to his sides, stiff like he forgot how to function.

"Ladle's all yours." He said coolly, stepping back like a gentleman. Like nothing happened. Like he hadn't just glitched in real time.

He was trying not to look at you, gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder like the ceiling fan had just become fascinating.

You didn't say anything. Just took the utensil and turned back to the pot. His touch lingered yet instead of being flustered you were trying not to laugh because what was that?

The whole thing felt like it crawled straight out of some cringy romance show.

Okay, maybe a little cringe. His hand was nice...and there was a flicker of worry in his eyes.

Jinu hovered for a second longer, then busied himself with wiping down the counter like his life depended on it. Like the silence had teeth.

He cleared his throat, voice a little stiff, ears betraying him with the faintest flush. "So… how's the sauce?"

You didn't look up. "Thick. Like your skull."

He blinked once. "…Solid burn."

A smug little smile tugged at your lips. He smiled behind your back, trying to look unfazed, but the curve of his mouth was just shy of flustered.

And just like that, the moment passed. Sort of.

You went back to stirring like nothing happened. No big deal. Just another normal cooking session. No hand-touching. No lingering eye contact. No weird pauses.

Behind you, Jinu hovered. Too quiet. Too still.

You glanced over your shoulder.

He was staring at the back of your head like it had personally betrayed him. When you caught his eye, he jumped slightly—then played it off with a clumsy stretch and a quick tug at the collar of his shirt.

"Whew. Hot in here, huh?" He blurted out, voice louder than necessary, already fanning himself. "Is it the stove or… chemistry?"

You blinked. Slowly. "What."

He coughed into his fist, looking like he wanted to crawl into the nearest drawer. "I mean— the stove. Definitely the stove. Ha. Ha… ha…"

You stared and he did the same.

You squinted at him. Jinu didn’t move, but his posture suddenly screamed guilty statue. "…Did you just flirt?"

His brows snapped together, and his ears flushed crimson—traitorously loud against the usual smug mask.

"No." He said a little too fast, voice climbing like it had something to prove. "Maybe— Shut up."

You blinked, like you couldn't believe what just came out of his mouth. Then, with all the grace of a daytime soap actor, you raised the ladle like it was Mjölnir and you were worthy.

"Oh my god. You did." Your eyes were wide at first, stunned, then narrowed with teasing delight.

"Okay, wow." He stepped back, hands raised like you were about to throw something. "Hostile kitchen energy. I am being persecuted for helping and also being hot."

You grabbed a stray green onion and flicked it at him.

He caught it with a dramatic flair—spinning it like a baton. "Still got it."

You shake your head. "Get out."

"I was already leaving!" He declared, pointing toward the door like a man who had made an executive decision. "Too pretty for manual labor anyway."

Your brow arched. A small scoff slipped out as you turned back to the pot, that tiny smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Idiot.

He paused in the doorway, half his face still in view—grin cocky, but eyes flicking uncertainly toward you, like he was waiting for some kind of cue.

"You're welcome, by the way."

You looked at him, unimpressed. "For what?"

He shrugged, like it was nothing. "Not ruining dinner. And uh… for the—" He wiggled his fingers vaguely. "—hand-holding."

Your eyes narrowed. "You touched my hand and froze like the WiFi cut out."

He opened his mouth. Closed it. No words. Just existential regret.

You waved him off with your ladle. "Shoo."

He faltered.

"Okay, bye. Uh—b-bye." He stammered, throwing up awkward finger guns like his body couldn't decide what to do. "I'm leaving. Yeah." He spun around to go, paused, then spun back in, pointing vaguely at nothing. "Cool. Chill. Uh—"

You didn't even look up. "Door's that way."

"Yep. Knew that. I live here, by the way." Realizing he rambled on, he whispered his scolding to none other than himself.

And just like that, Jinu disappeared—like he was trying to physically outrun the memory of the past thirty seconds.

You stirred the pot again, fighting off the grin. But the way your shoulders trembled betrayed you. You bit your lip. A tiny laugh escaped.

Then another. A louder one.

You wiped at your eye as the laughter rolled out, helpless now. It wasn’t disappointment, not really. Just this dumb warmth bubbling under your skin like the simmering stew.

Loser, you thought, chuckling to yourself.

…But you kind of liked him.

Somewhere down the hallway, Jinu had to stop.

He didn't know whether to curl up in a ball, run into traffic, or just lie face down on the tile for the next century. So instead, he leaned back against the wall, running both hands over his face, groaning into his palms like he was trying to physically erase the memory.

You laughed.

Not just laughed. Full-on cackled like he was a walking sitcom special.

He'd take it as a win—if it didn't feel like his dignity had just thrown itself out the window. His face was so red it practically glowed in the dim lighting. He stayed there for a minute. Maybe two.

"Smooth, Jinu." He muttered under his breath, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Real smooth."

Eventually, he marched past the living room without saying a word. The others were sprawled on the couch, probably heard everything by how they stared at him like they wanted to say something but valued their lives too much.

He ignored them.

Straight to his room. Door shut. Goodbye world.

—

Dinner passed in a blur of teasing remarks, second servings, and the chaotic clatter of utensils as the boys tried to act like your cooking wasn't the best thing they'd had all week.

It was.

The gochujang sauce hit hard—too hard for some.

Abby coughed through the first bite, eyes watering, muttering something about betrayal while still reaching for another piece.

Romance tapped his chest like it might calm the burn. Mystery didn't say a word, just kept eating with quiet endurance. Jinu kept sipping water between bites, red-faced but determined.

Only Baby seemed unfazed, clearing his plate with calm efficiency and even spooning extra sauce on top.

You watched him with faint amusement, secretly pleased that someone was genuinely enjoying your creation. He looked effortlessly cool even now, casually blowing on a steaming bite before popping it into his mouth. Cute.

"You guys asked for a surprise." You said, biting back a smirk and trying to act all poised. "This one bites back."

"Yeah, well—it bit me first." Abby croaked, reaching for his fifth glass of water. "You could've warned us!"

"I did." You replied innocently, barely holding back a smirk. "I asked what you all wanted for dinner. You said, 'Surprise us, princess.'"

Romance let out a long, betrayed groan and collapsed over the table like the spice had just ended a long-term relationship with him.

"This isn't food." He whimpered, face buried in his arms. "This is a punishment."

Jinu, red-faced and hiccupping like a malfunctioning kettle, struggled to maintain what little pride he had left. "Well—the, uh, texture. The tofu. Very silky. Great mouthfeel."

You blinked then held in a laugh. "Did you just say mouthfeel?"

He looked like he regretted everything. Again.

Mystery? Still eating. Quiet. Stoic. Suffering in silence.

Dinner continued in loud chaos—chopsticks clattering, water being poured and spilled, praises slurred through mouthfuls.

You only rolled your eyes and told them to shut up and eat.

And they did.

—

Later that night, you were curled up in bed, phone balanced in one hand, your other leg bouncing lazily under the covers. The group chat was going feral—your friends all-caps screaming over Huntrix’s newest drop.

🎧 GOLDEN IS OUT‼️ GO LISTEN‼️ IT'S A MASTERPIECE??? I LOVE MIRA. RUMI. ZOEY. HUNTR/X NEVER MISSES.

You laughed under your breath, replying with a flurry of emojis before clicking the link.

The song opened with a slow build—soft synths shimmering like city lights underwater, pulsing gently in your ears. Then came the beat: steady, unhurried, like a heartbeat finding rhythm.

And then that voice. Smooth, aching. Familiar in the way favorite songs always are.

I was a ghost, I was alone Eoduwojin apgilsoge (Hah) Given the throne, I didn't know how to believe (Hah)

Your gaze drifted up to the ceiling, where the soft glow of your nightlight stretched long shadows across the room.

From the living room came the muffled sound of laughter—familiar voices, the clink of glasses, someone shushing someone else far too loudly. The boys were still awake.

You exhaled, quiet and long.

Then your eyes fell to the bandages wrapped around your forearm, and for a moment, you replayed the memory in your head—reaching for the ladle, Jinu's hand brushing yours, the way he froze like his brain had blue-screened.

And how, instead of teasing you for once, he looked at your arm. Just looked. Like something fragile. Like it meant something.

Then your gaze flicked to the desk—Romance's gift bag sat there, still safely hidden inside it. You'll organize them tomorrow.

Today had been… chaotic. Noisy. Dumb, even. Baby had flung himself across your lap like a sleepy cat, groaning about a "migraine". You're still under the impression he only just wanted to be coddled.

Abby had picked you up earlier like it was nothing, making you yelp in surprise—and then just stood there, calm and sturdy, as if to say I've got you without needing the words.

Even Mystery, quiet and unreadable, had wordlessly placed a glass of water beside you when you thought no one was watching.

They'd teased you, poked at your patience, baited a meltdown—but underneath all the ridiculousness was something softer. Something steady. Like they'd made room for you without needing to say it aloud.

And you felt it.

For once, your life didn't feel like it was slipping past without touching you.

It felt alive.

Like maybe this noise, this mess, was something worth holding onto.

Your eyes softened as the chorus rose, swelling bright and full in your ears.

You know together we're glowing Gonna be, gonna be golden…

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe it.

[kabuki-writes]

An Entertainment For The Gods

chapter: 2 chapter 1 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Through an invitation from the Emperors themselves General Acacius and his daughter attend one of the bloody Gladiator fights at the Colosseum. But this time it is not only the brutality of the arena that encaptures Geta and Caralla.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol consumption | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 2.5k

There was no bigger temple in Rome than the Colosseum. A monument to the Roman Empire, an architectural masterpiece as well as a slaughterhouse for humans and animals. They had to die for the amusement of the masses in the pale white sand and under the eyes of the Roman citizens as well as the Emperor's. You've never visited the arena before, it just wasn't the entertainment you usually seeked as you fancied the amphitheater and stage plays of comedies or tragedies. No one really died from a well-spoken dialogue and the stages weren't drown in blood afterwords. Your father was a similar soul with this. As someone who had seen war and death countless of times, Acacius developed a distaste for the useless killing, which he argued was the mere core of the collosseum's existence.

But while one would despise this form of humanity at its core brutality, other's simply loved it. First under Commodus the fights in the arena became more frequent, while Septimius Severus after him didn't change anything in that matter. Under Geta and Caracalla however Gladiator fights reached an all time high, especially those 'special' spectacles with exotic animals or ships. They themselves had an own Gladiator school under their wings, which was due to their wealth filled with the most skillful warriors and the best equipment, that it was almost unfair.

Given the fact that both twins enjoyed the performance in the arena and the bloody outcome, it wasn't surprising that they were frequent visitors. For the Emperor the colosseum had an own arena box with the best view over the inner pit and with two throne like chairs for each one of them to sit comfortably. It wasn't unusual for them to have guests here either and this time it was a special one. The moment Geta and Caracalla stepped out, the masses greeted and cheered for their Emperors, who - at least in Rome - offered them bread and games to forget the common sorrows of life. Both of them were dressed in the finest, colorful fabrics, while their golden laurel crowns throned on their heads. They waited for General Acacius at the balustrade to come forward, join them and speak to the people. He was still their celebrated hero, their triumph card, so to speak. It was an easy way to win the hearts of the people through a figure like Acacius, who was the ideal Roman.

After your father held a small, yet powerful speech about the braveness of the Gladiators they'll see today, a slave went forward to place a cushioned chair between the thrones of the Emperors. You hesitated a second, since usually you would be seated at the side of your father. "Since we've heard that you had never witnessed a fight in the arena befoe, we thought you might like a good view", Geta suddenly explained to you, before he sank into his own chair. "Please, sit down."

Your eyes went to your father for a quick exchange and you saw in them how he displeased this way of treatment, yet he nodded and you sat down. More and more you understood that the situation had a differnt tone in it. It wasn't mere courtesy why the Emperors treated you like that and given the way you'd read their eyes, it was more than clear that you've captured their interest. Usually any woman of the realm would fight for that privilege, but you had seen how your father acted in front of them, how worried he was when you first made your way to the palace - something was off. You knew you needed to pay attention and be cautious.

"Citizens of Rome, the arena welcomes you! Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, we the people bow to your greatness and the mighty of our beloved Empire! Under the eyes of the sun the colosseum presents to you a spectacle like no other!", the high-toned, yet thunderous voice of the richly decorated announcer set the beginning of the show and drew all eyes on the white sand down in the arena pit, where a group of men in armor but with a limited equipment of weapons entered through a door from the Colosseum's catacombs. "First we present to you the brave Gladiators that will be our Theseus' today! They may not need to save their Ariadne, but they'll still have to face horde of Minotaurs today in an attempt to safe their own lives!" With those words a couple of other doors opened and six wild bulls entered the arena. Their massive and strong bodies stirred up the sands with every step of their big hooves. They may've been animals, but they had terrible weapons on their head with sharp horns that grew out of their heads.

Caracalla clapped with a joyful laugh. "Oh i love mythological pieces, even though they forgot the labyrinth!"

Your fingers nestled with the fabric of your dress in nervousness as you watched the men prepare themselves for the attack of the angry bulls, which were already pawing with their hooves. More than one set off to ran towards the Gladiators and given the fast but powerful movements of those animals, it didn't take long until the first fighter got overrun by them and another one faced the horns that drilled themselves like spikes into his torso, where blood spilled like a waterfall. The other fighters tried their best to ran or face the bulls with the few weapons they'd been given. One of them even striked down a beast by pressing his sword into its neck, when it was running towards him. You watched the spectacle with a neutral, yet pale face, while the Emperors seemingly enjoyed the show. Geta quickly noticed the way you followed the happenings down in the arena and leaned towards you.

"Are you not entertained, y/n ?", he asked you in a low voice, still loud enough to overcome the cheerings of the crowd. Your eyes went to him, facing the deep blue of his own, while you tried to put on a mask of apathy. "It is hard for me to understand, why useless killing is viewed as entertainment, I'm afraid," you answered, but it just got you an amused smirk in return.

"Oh it is not useless. You see, nothing is as entertaining as humanity itself. What lies more in our human nature than violence, power and the survival of the strongest? Without that, your father wouldn't be able to win all his great victories and our father would not have been able to secure the Roman Empire after the weak reign of the senate."

"And yet Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that true strength isn't born in violence, but in mindfulness and kindness. The ability to speak, think and therefore to thrive for something higher than mere survival, is what distinguishes us from animals," you responded in a clear, settled tone. This sudden response surprised Geta clearly as his eyes widened and his fingers tensed up. Even Caracalla's eyes had left the arena for a moment and were locked at you. Even though he followed the fight down there, one of his ears had catched every word you'd said. What a sweet, naive woman you were... it made this whole moment even more interesting.

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched and at first you weren't able to tell if he found your words disrespectful or not. In fact, he'd not expected such a bold answer from a woman, especially not against an Emperor. And even though he wouldn't agree with you, it proved him right, that you were not a simple-minded girl. Naive maybe, but not dull.

"Interesting thought, my dear. But would you recite the words to one of these brave warriors down there too? Who will ll earn their freedom, if violence keeps them alive long enough? We offer them a precious gift, and in return they entertain us."

Your eyes went to the pit again, which was mottled in deep red blood now with only one man and one bull remaining. The moment was intense as both animal and human watched each other with intensity, before the bull stormed forward and the speer of the Gladiator, who waited for the perfect moment, hit his opponent. The massive body fell to the ground and the people cheered in Ecstasy. Geta and Caracalla clapped with admiration for the celebrated Gladiator, as he sunk to his knee and bowed to them.

The next round began after the exhausted and wounded 'hero' stumbled through one of the doors, back into the darkness of the catacombs, before he was replaced by a bigger group of Gladiators, who now had to face armed chariots. Their opponents wore the armory of old Sparta while they teared down one after one with their arrows. You leaned back in silence, watched by Caracalla, whose eyes were taking in her side profile for quite a while now. Even though he loved the fights down there, the blood, the violence... you encaptured him more right now. Your stern face, which carried a deep displeasure for this, while you tried so hard to hide it, it was captivating.

Everyone, even his own twin tend to underestimate Caracalla. Even though he was born a couple of minutes earlier than Geta and was therefore technically older than him, his stature was smaller and he wasn't as tall as his brother. This was accompanied by the fact that he enjoyed the pleasantries the god Bacchus had to offer him: wine, music, arts and sex - even more than Geta did. Together with his rather impulsive way of acting, it often led to the false thought that the more capable brother of them was Geta. Oh, Caracalla hated this, it was a misinterpretation weaved like a thread through his whole life. Because he had a gift, he could read people and together with his extensive web of information sources and spies within the city of Rome and beyond, he had a power that lied in the dark. And it was a preparation he did on purpose after he'd learned about the plot that was once set against Emperor Commodus. Some would've said it was paranoia, maybe it was, but he would call it 'preparation'. Nonetheless it came with the pleasant side effect of knowing a lot about the people around him.

"I've heard that you rather choose the theater over the arena", he said with a soft, yet unreadable smile on his lips. "You're a dreamer, aren't you?"

As you heard his voice next to you, your eyes quickly turned to him. "There is nothing wrong with dreaming, my Emperor...", you answered and he nodded quickly as if he'd hoped for that answer. Caracalla even grinned, his golden tooth gleaming in the light. "No, not at all." My Emperor. The way you've said it with your eyes looking at him. It electrified him, so much so that the cheers of the crowd almost faded in the background. You'd faced the pit and the fighters again, but he was still staring at you.

"Which play?"

"Octavia," the name almost shot from you mouth.

"And you consider yourself to be?"

"Octavia. And you?" You didn't even expected him to give you an answer on that, but meanwhile Caracalla's grin grew wider.

"Nero," he said just as fast as you'd answered before.

Your eyes instantly went back to the Emperor, whose eyes were now focused on the deadly fight between a Gladiator and a chariot rider. He couldn't hold back a chuckle, while he watched how the man pushed his sword through the neck of his opponent, ripping off his head.

Nero.

"Why?", you suddenly asked, this time it were your eyes, that watched him.

"I cannot blame him for setting himself free." His answer was almost like a whisper, yet you heard every word. It was a very unconventional way of interpreting the mad Emperor, one she herself would even despise, if he wouldn't seem to be so certain of it. It meant something more.

The arena fight slowly came to an end, when only to oppontents were fighting for the right to claim the victory. Nearly all of the Gladiators and chariot riders were dead, their bodys laying in the pale sand and drowining it with their blood, a weird composition of death that accompanied your questions about Caracalla's answer.

After a final hit, one of the men went down on his knees. He was wounded, severely, and he now felt the tip of a sword against his neck. He surrendered and the gods had to decide what will happen with him. One of the Gods was Geta, who stood up from his chair and approached the balustrade, while the crowd called for a decision. The Gods need to decide, yet Geta suddenly turned his head to you. "What do we say,...? y/n, should he live or die?"

Your face grew even paler than it already was, your fingers were almost digging themselves into the armrests of your chair. You felt a thousand eyes on you, even though it was only Geta and Caracalla watching you, as well as the eyes of your father from behind. The Gladiator waited, while his opponent's arm was cut off and his head was bowed down as if he awaited death. And the crowd screamed and screamend. Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

It rang in your ears, you didn't want to make this decision. But the moment you faced the Emperor, just as you opened your mouth, Geta simply bowed his thumb down - Death.

And the sword went down. Death.

The head dropped in the sand followed by the body, the cheers errupted in the arena, screaming the name of the victorious Gladiator. But you just stared into the nothingness that was in front of you, while you bit your tongue to the point of pain. "Don't pain yourself about this, my dear. There was only one answer anyways," Geta said while he suddenly reached out for your hand and kissed your knuckles, before he took his glass of wine. You didn't move, you couldn't.

Caracalla stared at this scenery and his fingers were shaking as his eyes darkened. The intense urge came up his mind: To simply take his brother and throw him from this box into the pit, his neck breaking from the impact. Those thoughts sometimes came and went, but they got more intense every time he saw Geta interacting with you. And this interaction hit a new high point in him that was only interruped by your form the moment you stood up.

"My Emperors, it was a pleasure to join you, but i need to leave now...", you said in a tone that tried so hard to be polite and not carry any emotion, before you turned your back and quickly stepped out of the imperial arena box, followed by your father General Acacius, who bowed and excused himself in an equally neutral tone.

Both Geta and Caracalla watched them leaving, before the taller one of the twins took a deep sip of his wine. "She'll learn to love it sooner or later."

______________________________

Tags:

@barcelonaloverf1life @naysha140 @shinnerslighttt @mmkkzz @ange-olras @earfq0ake @honey-eyed-munson @koshkahhh

Please leave a comment, if you want to be tagged in the next chapter.

If you liked my fic, please feel free to like, reblog and leave a comment. I am always happy to hear your thoughts <3

[mishappeningss]

MORE THAN A DRIVER

CHAPTER EIGHT

more about driver!yn

formula one + female!driver!reader smau + irl

Drive to Survive 🏎️ — Episode 6

we all know yn’s itching to get that first ever p1. when’ll she get it?

notes: reader is classified as british here, and silverstone being her home race.

Silverstone Circuit, United Kingdom.

Silverstone didn’t belong to her. It belonged to the ones she loved. To Lewis, who grew up racing on this very track. To Lando, whose smile lit up every grandstand and whose name echoed from little children in McLaren hats.

And yet, this year, she stood between them both. YN stood behind the garages in her black and teal suit, arms crossed, helmet on a table beside her. She could hear the crowd before she could even see them. Voices. British Flags. Silverstone.

And none of it was hers.

Her name wasn’t on posters. She wasn’t in the montages shown on screen. She was the wild card. The ex-MotoGP girl. The girl Toto Wolff had taken a risk on.

And then — a voice behind her: “You’re awfully quiet today.”

She turned. Lewis. Familiar. Soft smile under the brim of his cap. “Not quiet,” she said. “Just focused.”

“You say that before every race you podium.”

Then came Lando — bright eyed, grinning. He bumped her shoulder. “Oi, no speeches yet. Wait until you beaf us first.”

They stood together as the anthem played. Lando on P3, Lewis P5. She’d only managed P6. And yet, when she stepped onto the grid between them both — it felt like walking beside people who chose her to stand there.

YN LN, DTS Interview:

Shot in a small light. Smiling gently, YN says, “They could’ve made me feel small here. It’s their home race after all. But they made space for me, they always do.

I think that’s why I keep fighting for them too. I want them to see that I deserve to be part of the story.”

Lap 1-10. The charge. The risk. It’s light’s out.

The start was chaos. Everyone launched. Max all the way from pole darted to the right to cover Sainz. George at P4 nearly collided with Piastri. Lando slipped clean through Turn 1 in P3 — slightly aggressive, but graceful.

And YN? She exploded off the line. Her tires gripped the track like claws. She cut across Gasly. Dived past Piastri into Turn 2. Nearly squeezed wheel to wheel with Russell into Turn 4 and didn’t lift.

By the end of Lap 1, she was in P4.

Lewis’ voice crackled on the radio, “She’s flying. Tell her I’m watching.”

Lap 3. Sainz blocked her like a wall in red. Dirty air flying everywhere.

Lap 5. She went for it anyway — braking late. The kind of move that could end in debris and tears. But she held it.

“You’ve got him,” Luca, her engineer said.

She was in P3. Right behind Lando. And for a brief moment, she smiled. Just for her.

Carlos Sainz, DTS Interview — Post Race

His arms crossed, in a respectful tone he said, “She sent it. No hesitation. You don’t see that often from a rookie, especially not at Silverstone. I defended like hell, and she still got to me.”

YN LN, DTS Interview — Post Race

Eyes wide, adrenaline still running in her voice, “I didn’t think. I just felt the gap open, and I… went. I heard Luca’s voice but I didn’t listen. I couldn’t, I had to trust my gut.”

Lap 11-35. Three brits, three friends. All leading in the Silverstone Grand Prix.

Lando in P1. YN in P2 now — having overtaken Max in the pit cycle. Lewis sitting pretty in P3, flying on hard tires like a man possessed. They didn’t talk, but the track did.

Lap 18. Verstappen tried to undercut. Oscar defended. YN found herself boxed in, but Lewis slowed just enough for her to slipstream past Oscar.

Lap 21. Rain threatened. DRS was disabled. Lando’s radio crackled with stress.

“Someone tell her not to send it yet,” he joked.

Lap 25. Russell DNF. Virtual Safety Car. YN and Lewis boxed in together. Out in sync. Back in the fight.

By Lap 30, the podium was written in tire marks. Lando, YN, Lewis.

Lando Norris, DTS Interview

“I knew she was behind me the whole time. I could feel her there. Honestly? If it were anyone else — I would’ve panicked. But her? I trust her.”

Lewis Hamilton, DTS Interview

“This isn’t just about racing. This is about showing up for each other. I knew where she was the whole race. I was proud before the flag even dropped.”

Lap 36-52. The final push. The final ten laps of Silverstone were the kind that made legends.

Lando’s tires were degrading. YN’s engine temp was spiking. Lewis was gaining. And the crowd? The crowd was losing its mind.

Three brits, one podium. But there could be only be one king — or queen — of Silverstone.

Lap 38. The wind picked up. Rain kissed the outer edge of the circuit. Lando radioed in:

“Is she gaining?” He already knew the answer.

YN was in his mirrors. Not recklessly. Not lunging. But stalking. The way she used to on her two wheels. Tight. Controlled. Close enough to whisper.

Lap 40. Max came alive again. New tires, charging. He lunged at Lewis. And Lewis? He defended like hell. Late braking, no fear.

“Is he seriously holding Max off for me?” YN whispered into her helmet, the world muffled by the rain.

Lap 44. She had one chance. One line, and she took it.

DRS open, McLaren flashing right in front of her — and she just sent it. Lando didn’t block. Not fully. Just enough to say, “You’re gonna have to earn it.”

She braked late, Lando turned in. For a heartbeat — they touched wheels. She made the corner, she was alongside. But not past.

Lap 45. They were side by side. Silverstone screamed, it didn’t know who to cheer for.

Lap 46-50. She stayed there. Like a shadow. Like the part of him he couldn’t shake off. Lando was smiling underneath his helmet.

“She’s incredible,” he whispered.

Lap 51. Lewis radioed in, still holding Verstappen back.

“Tell her to go win this, I’ve got the rest.”

Lap 52. The final lap. Final corner. No moves left to make.

And Lando crossed the line — 0.371 seconds ahead.

But it didn’t matter. Not really. Because when YN crossed P2 and Lewis crossed P3, they had made something bigger than a victory. They had made history.

YN LN, DTS Interview

Her helmet was off, her arms were shaking. “I tried. I swear I tried. But I think some part of me always knew this was Lando’s day. And I wouldn’t want to lose to anyone else.”

“I didn’t win, but I felt like I belonged. And that’s more than I ever dreamed of.”

Lando Norris, DTS Interview

“She scared the hell out of me. But that’s the thing about YN — she races like she’s chasing fate. I just happened to get there first.”

Lewis Hamilton, DTS Interview

“I watched her fight the whole damn race. I’ve never been prouder in my whole life. She’s gonna win Silverstone one day.”

Post-race. Champagne. Everything.

They stood on the podium like they were born to be there. Lando in the center — champagne dripping from his curls, eyes lit like a thousand suns.

YN to his left — helmet hair and all, breathing heavily. Lewis on the right — eyes closed, hand on his heart as the anthem played.

And for the first time, Silverstone didn’t choose one winner. It chose three.

Lando poured champagne into her hair. Lewis shielded her from the worst of the spray, laughing like a teenager. And YN? She looked out into the stands. The crowd that once doubted her. And now they’re chanting her name.

Toto Wolff, DTS Interview

His voice was raw, holding both YN and Lewis’ trophy like it’s everything. “I remember when I signed her, people called it a PR move.”

“And now, she’s standing next to the best of drivers. That isn’t just PR. It’s destiny.”

YN LN, DTS Interview

Her voice was raw, “I’ve stood on podiums. But this one, it’s different. And maybe I wasn’t born here. But today? I’m home.”

Cool down room. The adrenaline had nowhere to go. Lando was pacing like a child on Christmas morning — his arms flying, hands still trembling. Lewis sat on the couch, breathing deep, his fingers tracing his race suit zipper like he needed something to anchor him. And YN?

She stood by the drinks fridge, helmet still on, hands gripping the counter so tight her knuckles were white. No one spoke — not at first. Just breaths, laughter. Shaking hands.

Then Lando turned, “You nearly had me.” His voice crackled with disbelief. “I felt you in every corner.”

She finally peeled off her helmet. Hair damp, eyes wide. “I would’ve sent it if I had another lap.”

And they both laughed — not because it was funny, but because it was true. Lewis stood. Walked over. Pulled her into a hug.

“I told you. You belong here.” She buried her head in his shoulder for a second too long.

The media room was packed. Microphones everywhere. The air buzzed with questions.

“Lando — was it personal with you and YN today?”

He grinned. “Nah, it’s never personal with her. It’s just… our kind of racing.”

“Lewis — how does it feel seeing your rookie teammate on the podium here at Silverstone?” Lewis leaned forward, his voice smooth.

“It feels right. She drove like a champion. She had my back, I had hers. That’s how it should be.”

Then the question she knew was coming.

“YN — a lot of people didn’t think you’d make it this far. What do you say to them now?”

“I say thank you. Because all of that doubt? It made this moment even better. I’m not done, I’m just getting started,” she said with a steady voice, her eyes gleaming.

After the media cleared. After the podium photos. After the crowd left. She was sitting on the edge of the Mercedes pit wall. Her boots were scuffed, trophy at her side.

Lewis walked over first. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. Just sat beside her. They didn’t need works.

Then Lando came — McLaren jacket over his shoulders, trophy in one hand, two cans of Red Bull in the other. He handed her one.

“Think you’ll win it next year?” he asked softly.

She looked out at the darkened circuit, where her name was shouted by thousands of strangers.

“I know she’s gonna win it next year, and we’ll be right here. Win or lose,” Lewis said softly.

yourusername

liked by zendaya, lewishamilton, and others

yourusername p2 at home. i’m still in awe.

view all comments

username she’s making everyone SWEAT and she’s still smiling

lewishamilton Couldn’t be prouder of you sis 🤍

username SIS ????? IM CRUING???

username the fact that she’s so competitive is wildddd

username we were SCREAMING. the energy you gave us? unreal

mercedesamgf1 Our rising star.

stormzy That P2 was FILTHY. You’re literally that driver.

florencepugh Screamed at the tv and im not sorry

username i’ll root for redbull again when yn wins her race. have a good day everyone

username toto was literally holding back tears

lando

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and others

lando home wiiinnn 🇬🇧🏆

best race of the season. only because yn was breathing down my neck the whole race.

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yourusername get ready lando

danielricciardo If you two start beefing I’ll bring the snacks

lewishamilton Bringing the drinks

username this trio can run the whole grid and i won’t complain

username someone check if lando’s heart rate ever came down 😭

username i need the first slide on merch IMMEDIATELY

lewishamilton

liked by lando, yourusername, and others

lewishamilton Silverstone gave us everything this weekend. So proud of these two — I’m happy to stand on this podium with them.

Together. ❤️

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username ENOUGH

yourusername hold on let me cry real quick

username wholesome content alert i’m in tears

carlossainz55 You guys were UNREAL today.

username the mutual respect?? we love to see itttt

lando happy for us three 💚

yourusername how are you normal rn

lando IM ACTUALLY NOT tears in my latina eyes

yourusername ???

ynfanpage

liked by username and others

ynfanpage This was her circuit. She didn’t win today, but she owned every second. Can’t wait to see you win, YN!

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username CHILLSSSSSS

username toto’s face watching her drive was SO DAD CODED

username okay fine. she’s growing on me. A LOT

username the grid’s not ready for her first win and we all know it

hi loveliessss, thank u for staying this long! here’s chapter eight for u :) chapters are getting longer and yn’s itch to win a race is getting larger. stay tuned for more !!!

if you’re interest in this story, leave a comment or dm me to be in the taglist! if you’d like to see more about driver!yn, leave me a message in my inbox :) likes and reblogs are much appreciated, love lots! xx

@omgsuperstarg @hymntostars @dollyvuu @halleest @smh-anon @scentedrosa @ceekokocee15 @melancholicandmessy @heavenbabyg @milkiane @jajouska @stqrgirlies-blog @imdyinghelpplease @iikissagirl @moonlight52moonlight @hollandxstanley  @sleutherclaw @deaddumblbumble @iamdedsthingz @scuderiapng @ninass-world @lagrandeourse @kodzuvk @reallifemermaidprincess @enfppuff @rosegoldorchid @cryinghotmess @hero-ically @anunstablefangirl @floraf1ln @beathreat @fromsaltandsea @i-need-to-be-put-down @usseraloo @starrgir1 @vinylphwoar @elliefind @wherethezoes-at @yarastilinski @liveoninmemory @lavaflow1012 @formulapierre @isagrace22 @lemon-stvrrr @celiacallsitcasual @peqch-pie @thisissomehowweird @guacala @backupchrissy96 @marleycline13 @allthings-fandoms @siennaluvshcky @mikiamu @tztuoo @radioactivepotato @lost-library-of-violets @blushmimi @madamebovary-of-moderndays @l-a-u-r-aaa @injerafiend @luvr4miya @l3thal-l0lita @eviswriting

[reixtsu]

Baby Saja x Reader pda headcanons

જ⁀➴ 1. King of Casual Touch

Baby Saja is constantly touching you in public — arm slung around your shoulders, hand resting on your waist, pinkies intertwined under the table.

It’s not possessive; it’s more like… if he’s not touching you, he feels off-balance.

> "Where you goin'? Stay here. I wasn’t done holding you yet.”

જ⁀➴  2. Whispers + Teasing = Flustered Reader

He lives for leaning in close just to whisper something that makes you blush — usually when others are around.

He’ll whisper in your ear way too close, smirking when you jump or hide your face.

> “If you keep looking that cute, I might forget we’re in public.”

જ⁀➴ 3. PDA Level: Clingy Koala

Back hugs from behind while waiting in line. Always.

If you’re standing still for more than 3 seconds, his arms are around you.

He rests his chin on your shoulder like it belongs there.

> “Mmm, don’t mind me. Just recharging from your warmth.”

જ⁀➴ 4. Sneaky Little Kisses

He’s sneaky with kisses. Quick pecks on your cheek when no one’s looking. A kiss on your temple while you’re mid-sentence. Light lips on your knuckles when you pass him something.

The moment you react flustered, he grins like a demon who just won the lottery.

> “Oops. Did I distract you again?”

જ⁀➴ 5. Fake Innocence, Real Mischief

When the others catch you two being couple-y, Baby pulls the “What? I’m just being nice!” card.

Meanwhile, he’s got your hand stuffed into his hoodie pocket with his.

> “I’m cold. What? I’m not doing anything weird. You’re the one looking guilty.”

જ⁀➴ 6. Sharing Drinks (Indirect Kisses?)

He sips from your straw and doesn’t even ask anymore. Then gives you a daring look like, “What? Wanna kiss me or not?”

He acts completely unfazed while you melt from the casual intimacy.

જ⁀➴ 7. Taking Selfies Just to Post Cropped Pics

He takes selfies with you every time you're out. But only posts the ones where your face is turned or hidden, saying you're "his secret treasure."

Fans go feral trying to guess who it is.

> Caption: "You can’t see her, but I can. 😌"

જ⁀➴ 8. PDA with a Hint of Flirty Threats

When he notices other people eyeing you, he pulls you closer with a lazy smile that doesn’t look threatening — but it is.

He’ll kiss your cheek in front of them and hum innocently.

> “Gotta remind the world you’re taken. And by a demon. Dangerous combo, huh?”

જ⁀➴ 9. Backstage Clinger

Backstage, he gets extra clingy. Before performances, he tugs you aside to hug you tightly, sometimes humming into your neck.

Says you’re his “luck charm” even if you say that’s cheesy.

જ⁀➴ 10. Napping in Public = Snuggling in Public

If you nap on a long ride or at the dorm couch, he’ll curl up against you without a care who sees.

Fans have caught him asleep on your shoulder during livestreams more than once.

> Comment section: “WHO IS HE SNUGGLING?!”

જ⁀➴ 11. He lives to fluster you in public.

You’ll be talking to someone, all normal, and Baby will casually run his hand down your back just a little too slow.

Or he’ll press in just a little too close when there's plenty of room.

> "Oops. Tight space." (It’s not.)

જ⁀➴ 12. Whispering things he knows will wreck you

He gets real close to your ear and says things like:

> “If I kissed you right now, would you melt or combust?”

“I’m being good right now. You don’t want me not being good.”

You slap his chest, he laughs, and of course, leans in closer.

જ⁀➴ 13. Neck nuzzles that feel way too intimate

He buries his face into your neck whenever he hugs you from behind — breath tickling your skin, lips brushing close but not quite kissing.

He hums low like he’s scenting you.

> “Mmm… You smell good. Like mine.”

જ⁀➴ 14. Subtle teasing in group settings

Hand on your thigh under the table. Pinky stroking your inner wrist. Smirking when you squirm.

And then acting completely innocent when you shoot him a glare.

> "You okay, baby? You look flushed. Need water?" (He's the reason you're overheated.)

જ⁀➴ 15. That dangerous lip bite

Whenever you catch his eye from across the room and smile? He bites his lip. Every time.

Doesn’t even try to hide it.

If you bite yours back, he’s immediately on his way to you.

જ⁀➴ 16. Whispered threats during hugs

He’ll hug you, pull you close, and very quietly say things like:

> “Keep tempting me and I’ll forget we’re in public.”

“If you keep looking that cute, I might start something I can’t finish.”

You gasp. He smirks. Always.

 જ⁀➴ 17. The back hug + hip grab combo

Walk too far ahead? He sneaks up, hugs from behind, and lets his hands rest a little low.

When you jump or gasp, he just chuckles and presses his chin to your shoulder.

> “That’s payback for ignoring me, pretty.”

જ⁀➴ 18. That stare he gives you from across the room

When you're talking to someone else, or laughing at something that isn't his joke — he watches. Smiling faintly, chin in hand, eyes locked on you.

The moment you look back, he mouths "Mine.”

જ⁀➴ 19. "Innocent" food sharing that's not innocent

Takes a bite of something, then offers it from his mouth. Deadass.

If you refuse, he pouts. If you accept, he grins like a devil.

> “Didn’t think you’d do it... You’re bold when you’re hungry, huh?”

જ⁀➴ 20. Goodbye kisses that leave you dazed

Pulls you in by the waist, kisses you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive — and then just casually walks away like he didn’t just fry your entire nervous system.

> “I’ll see you later, baby.”

winks “Try not to miss me too much.”

જ⁀➴ Bonus 1: If YOU get flirty first

You tug him close by his shirt and press a kiss to his jaw? He shuts down for 0.5 seconds.

But then he snaps out of it with a low chuckle, and suddenly he's grabbing your chin and whispering:

> “Keep sweet-talking and this could go a whole new direction.”

જ⁀➴ Bonus 2: How He Reacts If YOU Show PDA First

If you initiate a kiss or grab his hand first? He short-circuits for 0.2 seconds before smiling like a lovesick idiot.

He lives for it. Will act smug about it, but deep down he’s soft pudding.

> “Aww, you’re getting bold, baby. I love it.

[friskalicousbiscuits]

Neglected The Mask!reader x platonic Yan!Batfam

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Epi

I’d also like to say this Reader is Gender Neutral or at least you can pick your gender. Most of the pronouns are “you” and when they are referred to by other people, its “they” so… Yeah! Have fun reading and tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or things that don’t make sense.

Chapter Five

6:12am

It was way too early to be awake, you mused. As of now you were sipping coffee at the kitchen island with two people on either side of you. You were too tired to even bother glancing at who, instead deciding to stare ahead and blink bleary eyes. You could hear some murmurs about the Shadow Thief who’s been striking Gotham. Skillit. You wondered what the kid was doing right now.

Was he stealing some murderer’s shadow?

You hoped so. The kid didn’t seem restrained by the night so that probably meant he was off somewhere in the Bowery or something and being a little thief.

You sipped your coffee again. Mmm… Hazelnut flavor. You were pretty sure Tim liked this one. You sent a prayer of thanks to the other boy, though in the middle of your prayer you heard someone stomping over to you and the other two people sitting with you.

“Father!” The voice sounded a mixture of young and old. All three of the people sitting at the kitchen island turned.

It was… Damian?

It was Damian if he stayed the same height and everything but became a shriveled little old man.

What interesting makeup!

“Wow… You’re such an old young person.” You said as a hand reached over to try and poke Damian in the cheek. The boy, with an obviously grumpy expression that you were too sleepy to pick up, slapped your hand away. You must’ve been really tired to actually do that. During any normal circumstance, you wouldn’t have on account of being afraid of him trying to chop it off.

Thankfully, the younger boy only snarled before practically growling, “Shut it, Wayne.”

The person next to you turned their body slightly to put their mug of coffee down. “[Name], don’t antagonize your brother. Damian, what happened?”

Was that Bruce?

His voice alone startled you awake. Bruce Wayne was sitting next to you. Your father was sitting next to you.

This is a moment in history!

Is it a little crazy that in this morning alone, you’ve spent more time with him than the near decade you’ve spent in this house? Seriously. The literal one conversation you’ve had with this man was when you were eight and it involved him kneeling down and handing you a black card before shooing you away because he needed to do some paperwork(it was a case on some rogue actually). And sure… he ruffled your hair before you left, but, dang…

…Oh right, there was a conversation going on.

“I don’t know! I woke up like this.” You almost thought he was about to stomp his foot, y’know, actually act his age. Wait no, he’s twelve, not two.

“Is it what Constantine said? The rapid aging from having your shadow stolen?” So it was Tim on the other side of you. Unlike Bruce, he kept his coffee in hand and drank while watching Damian.

As for Tim’s words, they made you pause. Didn’t Skillit say something like that? It had been when you were still possessed by the mask that he’d mentioned the effect that stealing shadows had on the victims.

Though you don’t remember everything after putting on the mask, there are still bits and pieces, albeit extremely hazy ones. When you’re possessed, it’s like you’re on a sugar high while you run around taking whatever, doing whatever, feeling whatever. When you blink, you’re in a bank shoveling money into a bag with a dollar sign on it. When you blink again, you’re shooting a guy on a jet pack out of the air with a slingshot. There’s no telling what you’ll remember.

Like you said, bits and pieces.

“I’m sure you’ll get your shadow back, Damian.” You said, sipping your own coffee. The kid, or old man depending on how you looked at it, glared at you. You looked between him and your mug. “Coffee?” You offered the mug.

Wow. You must still be really tired if you’re still not afraid of him cutting off your hands.

He tried to smack the ceramic out of your hands this time, but you pulled the mug away just in time. You heard Bruce scold Damian for that as both you and Tim turned back to the kitchen isle just as Alfred set some pancakes out for the both of you.

You’d have to make sure to ask Skillit if he could let Damian’s shadow go. As much as you dislike Damian, you don’t hate him. Not as much as he-who-shall-not-be-named anyways… if only he’d taken his shadow.

In the meantime though… Your phone lit up with a message as you put down your fork and twisted to the side as Damian reached out to grab the utensil as soon as it landed on the ceramic. Every person, besides you, stared incredulously as he balanced on one of the bars of your chair and ate the rest of the pancakes off your plate. You were too busy typing back to a message from Sammy to notice.

You stood up and he immediately got in your chair afterwards. The message was basically inviting you to a party. You were a bit wary about going to one and ended up asking a bunch of probably stupid questions until you finally… finally! Agreed to go. Sammy sent a bunch of happy emoji’s in response.

Although you were a little nervous, it was a little exciting if you thought about it.

Maybe you can be a little free as yourself too.

(Immediately after you left the kitchen…

“Damian, what the hell is wrong with you?” Tim asked, looking at the younger boy as if he were crazy.

“What are you talking about?” Damian’s gaze slid to him as he carefully cut up the pancake and ate it.

Bruce put his head in his hands at the audacity. “Damian, you just— you—” The father was at a loss for words, praying that Damian has not done that in public to random people.

“What? Is it me and Wayne’s sharing of food? Or that the pancakes aren’t vegan, because I can assure you they are, aren’t they Pennyworth?” Damian put another piece of pancake in his mouth as his brows furrowed.

“Yes, young master.”

“How can you even call that sharing?” Tim gave Damian the most judgmental look ever, arm moving to shield his own plate from the younger boy.

“Because it is. We both do it all the time, Drake.”

You both in fact, do not do it all the time. Damian instead simply waddles over while you’re eating a sandwich for example, asks if it’s vegan, and then steals the entire thing from you if you say yes. He’d started doing that since a little bit after he came to the manor. Even when your arm was still bandaged from the stab wound from his katana. Eventually, after a while you would just give it to him before he would even ask because you were, in his words, a pushover. He’s done this at home, galas, the awkward dinners with Damian’s mother and creepy grandfather who has a little too much interest in Tim. The kid does not care.)

Jason Peter Todd - The Red Hood POV

Jason was chasing after the Shadow Thief. The little bastard had crossed into his territory and stolen the shadow of some little girl, and he was going to get it back.

No matter what.

He’d heard what happened to Damian. He wasn’t gonna allow that to happen to some civilian. A civilian child at that.

Right now, he was chasing it over roof tops. It was laughing and mocking him. The little freak literally blew a raspberry at him as it jumped down into an alleyway. He obviously jumped down after it, but instead of hitting gravel, the kid was waiting for him.

It literally kicked him into the building next to him. Instead of hitting a concrete wall though, thankfully, he was shoved through and burst through a window straight into a room with flashing lights and loud music. Colors changed as drinks were passed around. Alcohol and smoke stunk up most of the room. Screaming was also loud, but then cheering could be heard.

Shit. Did he literally crash a party?

“Go, red guy!” A girl yelled alcohol sloshing in her drink and some spilling on the floor.

Jason, after laying on the floor for a little bit, eventually forced himself up. Glass shards clinked and clacked to the floor as they fell off him. He checked his arms and legs for any punctures and thankfully, there weren’t any.

Alright, now to get out of this du…

…Wait a damn minute. Is that…?

[Name]?!

Jason stared in utter flabbergastery. Was that even a damn word? He doesn’t know! He also doesn’t care! What the hell was his quiet, favorite little sibling doing in a cesspool like this?!

You weren’t even partying!

You were sat on a couch next to some couple of degenerates making out, shirt pulled over your nose as you tapped on your phone.

(You were his favorite for a reason. You always shut the fuck up. He loves that. He didn’t know it was because you were still afraid of him.)

He stomped over to you until he was looking over you. God, you were playing Block Blast and— were you at like 100000 points?! Christ. He knew that all his siblings were freaky little weirdos. He supposed he finally found what made you weird.

You paused, about to place another block when you slowly looked up.

You’d finally noticed his shadow looming over you.

You looked at him like a kicked puppy. (You were extremely confused about who this random grown ass man was standing above you.) Okay, that’s it. He’s getting you out of here. His little sibling shall not and will not be here any longer with these cretins.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you out the door, ignoring your struggling and attempts to get him to let go. He doesn’t even know why you’re struggling. You obviously didn’t wanna be there. He’ll take you home, but not before…

By the time he’d dragged you to his bike, you were still struggling. He let you go as he rummaged around his utility belt, but he had to grab you again when you tried to make a break for it.

Why were you being so difficult?

He finally shoved it in your mouth. A breathalyzer. Jason wished that it was zero. He did not want his favorite little sibling going to the dark side. Not yet anyway. You were eighteen! Way too young to be drinking!

When the zero showed up, Jason gave you a rough pat on the back and put the batbreathalyzer away. Oh. Good on you then.

He’s still taking you home.

“Alright kid, time to go home.” He steered you down the street. He’d left his bike around here somewhere.

“What?! My home or your home?!” You asked.

Why’d you sound scared?

“…our home…?” Jason answered, though it was definitely more your home than his.

“WHAT?!”

“The manor.”

“Oh.” You went quiet for a bit. “Wait oh! No, I don’t wanna go there!” You went back to struggling.

He kept pushing you along anyways. “Why? You obviously didn’t like the party?”

“Well, yeah, but my brother might be there. And if he’s there I’m gonna hate that more than the party.” You sounded full of straight up despair. Damn.

“…Which brother?”

Who in the world is making you sound like that?

You were quiet for a long time. So long that he eventually saw his bike in the distance. “…Jason.”

What?

“Pardon?”

“Jason. He’s my second older brother and… he beat me up really badly when I was about fifteen.” You paused, swallowing, digging your heels into the ground the closer they got to the bike. “He’s the reason I don’t like being in that house. That amongst other things anyways.”

Jason stopped walking at that point. His hands were still on your shoulders, but he wasn’t steering anymore.

What?

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense to Jason and that one moment. One, you’re his quiet little sibling because you’re probably afraid of him. Two, you definitely do not know he’s Red Hood by the way you’re phrasing this. Three, you never forgave him for that night, did you?

You were both sort of standing in the sidewalk now. “I…” Your voice cracked. “I don’t know how Tim did it. I don’t know how he just forgave him like that.” You swallowed again. “I just gotta hope a bullet can stop the guy.” You whispered. “I have one of his guns, you know.”

Jason did, in fact, know. He’d left it to you.

“I… see.” He said as he started walking you forward again. He sat you down in his bike. “Well, if this Jason guy ever decides to hurt you again, give me a call.” The words were leaving his mouth as he handed you one of the stupid business cards Dick shoved into his utility belt. At least it had his actual number.

You seemed extremely confused by that.

You definitely did not know he was Red Hood.

“Uh… Well, that’s nice stranger.” You gave him a small smile. “A big bad guy like you should hopefully be able to take care of him.” You paused. “Hopefully.”

It was at that Jason made a promise to himself.

He’d never hurt you again.

He’d also never let anyone hurt you again.

“Okay… so if you don’t wanna go to the manor. How about we go for pizza instead? There’s a joint literally right across the stree—” Jason was caught off by that little. fucking. freaky kid.

It literally swooped down, grabbed you and flew off. You screamed like a chicken with his head cut off and everything.

Did he actually just break his promise and less than 30 seconds?

Skillit - The Shadow Thief

He couldn’t believe this! Masky hadn’t come out to play tonight! Instead, his host was chatting it up with the freaking guy that tried to arrest him!

So what did Skillit do in response to seeing you talk to him? He snatched you up like the vulture he practically was. Only, he stole shadows, not dead people parts. Anyways, he talked to the host for a little bit and they told him that they didn’t have the mask.

…why in the world wouldn’t you carry Masky with you?

Just before Skillit could get mad, the host had thankfully told him it was in their room. He flew them over there so they could grab it and turn into Masky, his best friend in the whole world. As for now? They were running around Gotham, stealing shadows from crooks and doing a little bit of light torture on the side. It was awesome!

Then the damn bats had to show up.

They fought all over Gotham. Masky hit them more times than Skillit could count! It was like wack-a-mole with these guys!

But then… oh then! One of them, the big one with the horns, decided to say something that almost sealed Skillit’s fate!

“Hand over the shadows. Those are innocent people suffering for your greed.”

And guess what? Because of that, Masky’s host’s morals just had to strike.

“Time-out.” Masky said, making a T with their hands. Most of those vigilantes have been frozen in midair trying to lunge and punch at Masky. They turned to Skillit. “Skillit, young man, you know the rules. I told you this body had morals.” They wagged their finger in his face.

“Yeah, well I know that, but—”

“But nothing.” Masky crossed their arms. “Open the bag, young man.”

“But—”

“Open the bag. We’ll get you plenty of corrupted and non-innocent shadows, but as for now, let them all go.”

“But Masky! I worked so hard to collect these!”

“You know this body doesn’t care, young man.” They shook their head. “Open it. After we’ll take you to a buffet. I know two places with plenty of sitting ducks.”

“You—” Skillit cut himself off as he groaned. He slammed his gigantic bag of shadows down on the ground. “You’re such a jerk!”

“I know I know. You say that now, but you’re gonna be extremely happy at either of the places I’ll take you.” Masky tapped their foot impatiently.

Yeah yeah, and that was true, Skillit did enjoy himself at Gotham City Jail, but still! It’s the principle of it! He spent days collecting all those shadows. Man. He kinda hated this new host.

Whatever. At least you had the decency to reimburse him in shadows as Masky and in candy as your— ugh, normal self.

Damian Wayne - Robin POV

4:36am

Damian was walking to his room when he heard the peculiar conversation between you and another boy. A boy around Damian’s age to be noted. The crinkling of wrappers could be heard.

“You can have all the candy you want. I used to to save them for Damian, but then he stabbed me in the arm and well…” It was your voice speaking.

He’d assumed you’d forgiven him for that by now, with how much of a pushover you are and all.

Withholding candy for something like that? Seriously? How childish.

“Really?! Also wait, who’s Damian?” It was the other boy again.

“My littlest brother.”

“Oh.” The other boy, whoever this other. boy. was, paused. “I don’t know who that is, but if it makes you feel ever so slightly better, because I don’t want Masky feeling bad either, you’re my sibling as well.”

That made Damian still. He was then stomping away.

Getting upset over something like this? Damian’s disappointed in himself.

(“I guess… but aren’t you mostly their’s though?” You asked.

“Well, yes but you influence Masky and they’ve also never ever taken me to get ice cream before.”)

Finally! I get to flesh out some relationships and yandere-ify the rest! Also, I know somebody said that they wanted to see more fights. Like I did in an earlier chapter, the bats will go over the fight vs the mask and Skillit in the Batcave before the next patrol aka next chapter.

Extra Info:

1.) the guy you shot out of the air with the slingshot was Firefly. 2.) you are a block blast legend.

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[thebluediner]

INTERVIEW HOTNESS/ HOTMESS

host! reader x guest! billie

explanation: it's like a video compilation of all the moments from the interview with reader but in words for y'all

"welcome to the hot ones show where we have an even hotter guest, Billie Eilish" you gesture your hands towards billie for the camera to follow.

"you think i'm hot ?" her brows arch in curiosity with a slight grin on her face.

"I think you're pipping hot" you confirm with slight aggression.

"so you wanna kiss " billie asks her shoulders shrugging with a big flirtatious smile.

"fuck yeah" you say leaning in-

#wing 1

you pick the cards with questions on them flipping through them for the right question to ask while eyeing billie.

"should I be scared ?" she asks with suspicion looking around at the cast behind the camera and back to you.

"not unless you have something so hide" you answer her looking at her hard like some detective from a kids show.

"bitch I'm a celebrity I try hiding everything" she bursts out laughing along with you for a couple of seconds before you both calm down.

"alright what something you've hidden from security when you go to events or boarding a plane" you ask her before setting the card down.

"uhm a vibrator, well vibrators cause there was a lot of them " she elaborates while trying her not to laugh.

"should've eaten that wing billie" you crack up in disbelief looking at the cast because they were also giggle behind the camera.

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#wing 2

"your question is a guest who smelt the foulest" billie who immediately takes out her "your turn " perfume and bangs it on the table.

you slightly flinch at the noise before looking closely at what it is. when you finally realise your eyes get bigger before clapping your hands.

"now that's some promo right there" you point at the product while billie waves it in the air.

"now tell us who it is so I can send it to them" she deapans before looking right at you with some pressure to answer.

"oh hell no I'm eating this wing and I'm keeping that for myself thank you very much" you say grabbing the perfume and eating the wing.

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#wing 3

"just eat the wing man i won't even bother asking the question" you surrender pushing the wing closer to her.

"no wait lemme see" she takes the card from you to read for herself. her eyes scan the paper reading what's written in the fine print before her jaw drops.

"you know what you were right" she places the card down and bites into the wing.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 4

"a celebrity you've hooked up while working with them on a project" the set members let's out little gasps.

"none but you could be the first" one of the set members hollers at your flirting making billie blush and hide it with her question card.

"oh my gosh girl get out" she says pointing to the door.

you who actually stands up and leaves the the set leaving billie in fits of laughter that you actually stood up and left.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 5

"bro now this wing is so hot it makes me wanna tell you all the people I've hooked up with" billie admits in the midst of drinking ice cold water to put out the spice on her tongue.

"oh don't expose us now" you joke catching billie off guard who then chokes on her water.

"oh my gosh billie don't die " you stand up from your seat to help her out while laughing a bit.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 6

"fuck my lips are so hot" you blubber picking up blocks of ice and putting them in your mouth.

"you do have hot lips " billie chimes in with a flirtatious smile.

since there is ice in your mouth you point at her mumbling something about how dare she flirts with you while you're suffering which only makes her laugh more.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 7

"you think if we kiss it'd burn less" billie asks panting with her tongue hanging out.

"that's not you speaking it's the spice right" you narrow your eyes in suspicion.

"I don't know wanna find out" billie leans forward.

"Billie Eilish Baird O'Connell!" you scream backing up because of being flustered.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 8

" I need to dip my lips in something to ease down the pain of the spice" billie says looking around the table for literally anything even a napkin at this point.

"I know something " your brow arches in mischief.

"oh yeah wh- bro get out! " billie finally catches up to your dirty joke.

"don't act like you wouldn't say that too" you try defending yourself while you double back laughing.

"actually yeah I would " billie admits shaking her head.

[tarotbyjam24]

Pick a card : Lemme describe your bf\gf\fs\lover\crush :

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3 pile 4

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗 Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Masterlist \ pick a piles feedback

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

I also offer paid readings you can book one as it'll help me a lot and don't forget to check the free readings offer ✨

Pile एक

funny without trying

doesn't hide you from their friends

sometimes boastful

extremely popular

knows everything about you

extremely smart

sometimes sassy

loves to look after you

usually hungry

sometimes rude without knowing it

loves listening to rap

never at home

doesn't realise they're very hardworking

sometimes feels underrated

remembers everything about you

sometimes pessimistic

get your personalised readings

Pile दो

18+ read at your own consent

Reckless

very indecisive

always eating

a bit of a fattie :D

party boy

gives the best advice

yolo mindset

best outfit/music taste

Doesn't care what other think

JEALOUS AF

Loud af

Dom

"ooh, sexy"

"Babe"

"How do you feel?"

*SPANKS*

Horny 24/7

Your friends like his look but hates his personality

"Send Nu*es"

"Nice Ass"

BUYS EXPENSIVE SHITS TO EXPRESS HIS LOVE OR APOLOGIZE

LOYAL BUT HARDLY SAY NO FOR A GOOD ASS

huge book reader

obsessed with one girl

quiet but loud

comfort > style

with the right people

best secret keeper

get your personalised readings

Pile तीन

ALWAYS looking at you

acts goofier around you

warm hugs

sends "this reminded me of you" texts

remembers every single word you've ever said

princess gf - bf who does anything to see her happy "baby"

"that's cute"

"hmmm?"

falling asleep on call

You've good taste in music

gm and gn texts

holds hands with you

"i can't wait for our future together"

big hands

"doll"

"go ahead... what "speak up. "were you saying?"

"don't be shy"

-grabs inner thigh-

holds your chin up w/Index finger and rubs lower lip w/thumb while making eye contact

"when they smirk and lick their lips"

"eye contact"

madly needs your attention

always ready to fight for you

impulsive and stubborn

seems terrifying but he's a warm bean

"duuude"

doesn't like horror movies

gives and wants kissies all the time

moms love him

high pitched scream

always fails when he tries to intimidate you

does everything to make you feel safe

"yooo"

enjoys causing chaos

pretty good at video game

feels a lil insecure sometimes

has some chad energy

can be hella sassy

afraid of being put aside

get your personalised readings

Pile चार

super clingy

wants forehead kisses

loves to sit on ur lap

spoiled brat

cuddles

short

"call me your angel, anon!"

caring & sweet

veryyy emotional

always sleepy

"yes please"

will cry if yelled at

sub

"i love you, anon :("

apologizes 24/7

tall straight ADHD bf who loves games - 5'3 mentally ill gf who loves astrology

actually a huge nerd

protective af

secretly gay

super duper nice

very pretty eyes

insecure

music

lowkey clingy

og sk8r boy

loves 2 cuddle

likes plants a lot

old soul

probably the coolest person u will ever meet

loves cartoons

handsome af but also pretty af

baggy clothes

get your personalised readings

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰 I'd love to hear which pile you chose

Loads of love , jam🩷

[n0rmal-cat]

Kpop demon hunters x reader- selling your soul for job experience Part 3

[i love you but...that hair has to go, also it took a little longer because i didn't want people to wait to long for 4]

headcanon's part 1 part 2 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11

It took the reader about an hour and a half to gather all the clothes they needed. “I got them!” they exclaimed, throwing the clothes at the boys.

“Ow…” one of them whined, rubbing his shoulder where the clothes made contact.

“Now go change! I need to see my vision realized,” reader insisted, gently ushering the boys toward the bathroom.

“Hold on, we can’t all go in together!” Jinu protested, glancing nervously back at the others.

The reader patiently waited by the door with derpy, who now had a little hat on. The door creaked open, and the boys stepped out one by one. “Yesss!... nooo....”

"I agree, this is stupid," Baby chimed in, crossing his arms and pouting.

"No, not you, you're perfect, you two on the other hand." reader studied romance and mystery. 

"What, me? What's wrong with me?!" Romance asked, offended.

The reader tilted their head, narrowing their eyes in thought. "I didn’t notice it before with your hat, but your bangs are enormous." Romance instinctively placed his hands on his head, shock written all over his face. "But don't worry, I can fix it."

"Fix my hair…" Romance muttered, his expression blank as he processed the idea.

"And you," the reader said, shifting their gaze to Mystery, "we need some hair clips." They reached out to brush the hair away from his face, but received a low growl in response.

"Did you just-"

"Mystery, don't do that. They're not human anymore, remember? Plus, they're our manager," Abby stepped forward, playfully ruffling Mystery's hair.

"It's fine... just please don’t remind me I’m not human," they replied. "Ah, Romance, just come with me and I'll fix it for you." Reluctantly, he followed the reader into the first room they had woken up in.

“Sit down, I’m going to try and find a brush,” the reader said, sifting through drawers filled with things they did not own. “So, do you like your outfit?”

Romance chuckled playfully. "Like it?" He looked down at his yellow shirt. "Darling, I look like a Valentine's Day card made by a toddler with glitter glue. But if you're asking if I 'pull it off," grinned and tilted his chin up, "obviously." 

Finally, the reader unearthed a pink hairbrush. "That’s good," they said, standing in front of him as they began their work. Romance watched them with a look of worry.

Romance winced as the brush tugged at his pink hair. "Are you-" yank "-torturing me on purpose?" His voice was strained. He clutched the bed sheets as if they were going to save him. "You know I could tell Gwi-ma to kill you for this, right? Not that I would! But-Ow! That’s my volume, you little menace!"

"Haha, the volume is your problem, and I'm not trying to hurt you, so sorry I'm just trying to fix it," reader replied with a laugh

The air between them shifted slightly as the reader worked through Romance’s hair, the soft bristles gliding through the strands. A comfortable silence enveloped them.

“Your hair is really nice. What shampoo do you use?” reader asked.

Romance laughed softly. “None. You don’t really take showers where we’re from. Can’t really do much of anything there,” he admitted, his gaze shifted away from them.

"Oh, it sounds... rough.”

Romance flashed a quick smile, though it flickered for a moment as his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "Yeah, well…" He let out a dramatic sigh, forcing his usual playful tone back in place. "It builds character! And at least I still managed to look this flawless without running water, ok, well, there is water, but it's not the cleanest."

The tension crept in once more.

“You know, your deal was pretty stupid, right? You should have bargained for more,” Romance commented.

“Yeah, well, if I had known I was selling my soul, I probably would have,” the reader chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “What about you?”

Romance seemed to freeze, his playful smirk crumbled. He exhaled sharply, staring at his own hands as if they betrayed him. "...Because I wanted to be loved." His voice cracked just once before he forced another laugh, tossing his head back. 

"Pathetic, right? A person who craves affection? Gwi-ma loves throwing that in my face." He glanced up at the reader with a grin too sharp to be real. "But hey, at least I got the idol gig out of it! Stage lights almost feel like the warmth of a lover" 

"No, no, I don't think it's pathetic, love is a good thing to sell your soul over, in my opinion. I think everyone deserves love." reader looks at him sadly

Romance's breath hitched. "That’s..." he looked into reader's eyes, "That’s the stupidest take I’ve ever heard." His laugh was loud. "And yet... you say it like you mean it." 

"Well...there, you're all done." The reader stepped back, admiring their handiwork with a satisfied smile.

Romance blinked, running a hand through his now neatly tamed bangs. "...Huh." He made his way to the nearby mirror on the wall.

"So?"

He playfully turned his head from side to side, tossing his hair with a flourish like he was in a shampoo commercial. "Well... somehow you didn’t manage to ruin me," he said with a grin as he looked at their reflection in the mirror. Then, with a fun twist, he spun around and gently tapped their forehead with his claws. "Just don’t let it get to your head, okay?~"

"ow, your claws are sharp." Their hands go up to their forehead. "Hey, actually, you know what, we can paint your guys' nails, I think it would make you more approachable," they said, taking his hand. 

"That’s actually a pretty good idea...." he looked at his own hand

"you know I think I'm killing it at this manager job," reader smiled.

Just after their comment, a knock was heard at the door, reader paused their conversation and went to answer it. "Hello"

Baby stood right outside looking as bored as ever. “We’ve got a problem.”

"A problem, what problem?" reader asked, confused, they were only gone for like ten minutes.

“Well, the Hunters just dropped a new song called 'Golden,' and Jinu is freaking out about it” Baby pointed behind him, where Jinu was furiously scribbling notes.

"Yeah sure, why wouldn't they release a new song right after a world tour? Why didn't I plan for that?" 

"Wait, the hunters are also singers? Oh, is that why you're an idol group?" 

Jinu points a finger at reader, "You manager! You're going to help me book a spot to perform"

"Yeah you're definitely killing it, little manager." Romance pats their shoulder.