#sorry this took a while I wanted to draw something extra for it ^_^ and I've been busyyy

[dollgxtz]

At Your Service Pt. 3

⟡ Word Count: 16.2k words

⟡ Tags: boss!Sylus x housekeeper!reader, fem reader, dubcon, drinking, suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, kidnapping, stalking, degradation, spitting, nicknames like doll, sweetie, sweetheart,

⟡ Summary: Your life is falling apart. Yes, you've left one mans hell behind, but reality is quick to knock you back down on your feet. Faced with no other way, you consider your last option...all while Sylus struggles to come up with ways to get you to come back to him.

Maybe the universe had made a mistake. Maybe it was punishing you for slipping through its fingers. For surviving when you weren’t supposed to. The shame of existing when everything in your life screamed that you shouldn’t be here anymore was unbearable. A curse stitched into the seams of your skin. Every breath you took felt like defiance in a world that never wanted you. And in that moment, it became so clear: maybe it was time to stop running from it. Maybe you should just give the universe what it had always wanted from you—your soul. Maybe then, if you died, everything would finally stop hurting.

⟡ AN: Hi!! Sorry this took so long! I decided to flesh out the plot a little more and give you guys just one extra chapter. (aka I wrote too much to just do one chapter LOL). So this fic will end in part 4! I just love this fic so much! A little tw if you struggle or have struggled with suicidal thoughts! Pls be safe!! Next part will be less angsty and more smutty hehe.

Tag list for this fic is full sadly!! Sorry to anyone that wanted to be added! :(

Enjoy! I spent many days and nights on this. Im gonna sleep for days now (｡>﹏<)

@leiaglamela @shia247 @hyphensei @hummingbirdoooo @beaconsxd @zoezhive @syluslover1 @mmeerraa @webmvie @calebsbabyapple @mysterios-hoe @ymrai @sinstae @sylvieisoffline @blcknebula @wooasecret @chososlvrr @deathlycrow @joshazraelian @mcdepressed290 @sylusqt @harbingers-lullaby @dummiebunny @rachelaishi @dilf-destroyer-04 @rjreins @thelittlebutton @rie-star @blcknebula @zoezhive @theplaid-wearingmoose @chaotictsumu @ni3rdem1se @certainduckanchor @suicidollz @shi-thats-kiera @marliisastarfrfr @ikesimpleton @chososlvrr @seventeen-x @maiznamai @sabage101 @xanhnax @uchihabucketlist @rubylescent @joshazraelian @teary-eyed-egg @writteninlunarlight-years @sylusgirlie7 @finalgirlfanatic

twt/x | ao3

Read the other parts on my masterlist!

Sylus wasn’t one to panic. In fact, he prided himself on his ability to keep cool no matter the circumstances. Strategy, restraint, control—those were his trademarks. Even in chaos, he thrived. It was one of the reasons people feared him. There was always a plan, a backup, an edge that kept him grounded when others faltered.

But that composure cracked the moment his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He was seated near the front of a high-stakes auction, surrounded by the silent, simmering tension of powerful men and women bidding discreetly behind masks and digital paddles. The room was dimly lit, every surface polished to excess. Velvet-lined chairs. Crystal glasses. Shadowy security stationed at every exit. A rare and powerful weapon was rumored to be unveiled tonight—something nearly mythical, lost to time and blood and buried history. He had waited weeks to take a seat in this room. He hadn’t come all this way to be distracted.

Still, something unfamiliar tightened in his chest.

He felt the single buzz in his pocket and instinctively ignored it. But it lingered in the back of his mind, like a whisper he couldn’t quite make out. Something about it felt different. The weight of it settled in his chest, heavy and slow-burning. He didn’t know why, but it stuck with him.

Sylus shifted slightly, subtle enough not to draw attention, and slipped his phone from his pocket. He held it low in his lap, thumb unlocking the screen out of habit. He expected a routine update. One of the twins checking in. A shipment arrival. A simple confirmation.

Instead, it was your name.

The moment he saw it, his entire body stilled. His breath caught. His pulse began to quicken in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline or the auctioneer’s rising call.

He hadn’t heard from you since you'd vanished. Not a single message. And now here it was—your name lighting up his screen. Hope surged in his chest before he could suppress it. Maybe—finally—you were ready to talk. Maybe you were coming back to work. Maybe you missed him?

But then he read the message.

Two words.

"I quit."

They glowed against the screen like a slap to the face. Just two words, sharp and clean, carved straight into him. For a long second, Sylus just stared.

The room blurred. The droning voice of the auctioneer became a distant hum. The subtle movements of the bidders, the gleam of weapons on display—all of it faded into the periphery. All he could hear was the echo of those words in his head and the growing roar of blood rushing past his ears.

His grip on the phone tightened.

Something was wrong. This wasn’t you trying to provoke him. He knew your tone. Knew the way you normally sent a message. And this one was too sharp. There was no dramatics in that message, no play for attention. It read like someone who’d truly given up.

And for the first time in years, Sylus felt it—panic.

Quiet. Gnawing at the edge of his carefully constructed calm. He rose without a word, chair scraping softly as he stood. Let the weapon sell.

He had somewhere more important to be.

He ordered his driver to speed up, urgency creeping into his voice as they barreled through the streets toward Onychinus’s base. The city lights streaked past the tinted windows, tall buildings twisting into a blur, but Sylus barely registered any of it. His mind wasn’t on the road—it was on you. That message. Just two words, but they echoed louder than a scream.

What did you mean you quit? Didn’t you need the money? He had offered you a package most would dream of. Tripled pay. A fast track to financial freedom. A car to get you out of that rundown apartment. It wasn’t charity—it was calculated, but generous. He had made sure of that. So why the hell would you walk away?

His fingers tightened around the phone in his hand. There had to be more to it. Had something happened? Had someone pushed you? Or was this about him? Had he gone too far?

The thought gnawed at him, unsettling. Sylus was many things—ruthless, commanding, manipulative when he had to be—but careless wasn’t one of them. He thought he had read you right. Understood you. He thought he could reel you back in.

Grinding his teeth, he unlocked his phone again and called Luke, needing answers.

The line rang once. Twice.

Sylus's jaw flexed as he waited, each second stretching like wire pulled taut.

Finally, Luke picked up.

"Yes, boss!" Luke’s upbeat tone spilled through the speaker, light and casual, utterly mismatched to the pressure building in Sylus’s chest.

"Is she there?" Sylus asked, voice tight and clipped, barely more than a growl. He was already bracing for the answer he didn’t want to hear, but something in him still held on to the hope that you might be there.

"Uh... Lira? Yeah, she’s here—"

"No," Sylus cut in, his patience thinning to threads. His voice sharpened, cold steel beneath the words. "The housekeeper."

A beat of silence followed. A slight shuffling noise through the line—maybe Luke shifting in place, maybe him realizing too late that this wasn’t a casual check-in. The weight of the question finally landed.

"Oh! Her! Um…I’m not sure. She wasn’t here when we got back. There’s a mess in the kitchen, by the way. Lira said she knocked over some cleaning water. Do you want me to clean it up?"

Sylus’s jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around the phone until his knuckles whitened. A mess in the kitchen. Cleaning water. From Lira. That didn’t sit right. Not one bit. Lira never touched anything that would require her having to work. She certainly wouldn't be cleaning anything. So just how had it gotten in a place it could be knocked over?

A bad feeling coiled low in his gut. He could feel it rising, slow and sickening. 

He hung up without saying goodbye or answering Luke's question.

The unease in his chest didn’t just linger—it clawed deeper with every passing second. A cold pressure built at the base of his spine, an instinctual warning that something had gone horribly wrong. By the time the car screeched to a stop in front of the Onychinus's base, Sylus didn’t bother waiting for the driver to pull into place. He opened the door mid-motion, stepping out before the vehicle came to a full halt.

He didn’t take the elevator. Didn’t greet the guards at the front. Didn’t pause to compose himself. In a blur of red and black mist, he dissolved from the street and reappeared directly in the living room.

The sudden burst of energy made Lira jump where she sat perched on the couch, legs crossed, scrolling lazily through her phone. She looked up sharply, clearly startled by the abrupt appearance.

"Hi, Sylus! How’d the auction go?" she chirped, her voice sugarcoated and bright. She tossed her phone aside, standing up quickly and moving toward him with a bounce in her step. Her arms reached up to wrap around his neck in an affectionate greeting, clearly playing up her charm.

Sylus returned the hug, but his touch was light—detached. His posture remained stiff, his focus elsewhere. His sharp eyes flicked around the room like searchlights, scanning every corner for a sign of you. Your shoes weren’t by the door. Your jacket wasn’t on the hook. The air lacked the faint scent of the shampoo you used or the quiet rustle you always made when moving through the rooms.

Nothing.

You weren’t there.

"I heard you spilled something?" he asked, his voice calm, low, and laced with quiet force. He wasn’t making small talk. He wasn’t here for polite conversation.

Lira blinked in surprise, then gave a light, airy laugh. "Oh, that? Yeah. I guess I did. Just knocked over some cleaning stuff by accident. My elbow slipped," she added with an apologetic shrug, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was kind of a mess, but no big deal. I think one of the twins is cleaning it up right now."

Sylus watched her carefully. Every movement. Every inflection. She was trying too hard to sound casual, too quick with her explanation. He could see it—the faint tightness at the corners of her eyes, the slight shift in her stance. She was lying.

He didn’t feel like entertaining Lira’s games right now. So he pressed her.

"Cleaning stuff? Was the housekeeper here earlier?" Sylus asked, his tone deceptively calm, but his eyes locked on her with unnerving intensity, the kind that made people forget how to breathe. He didn’t blink. Just stared like he could see through her skin.

Lira's expression twitched. Her cheerful facade faltered for the briefest second, lips pulling into a tight, annoyed grimace at the mention of you. That reaction alone told him more than he needed. She tried to recover, but the damage was already done.

"Er, yeah. I kinda got some on her and she got like so mad at me," she said with a scoff, arms crossing defensively. Her tone sharpened. "What a bitch. Don’t think she’s coming back."

Sylus’s fist curled tightly at his side, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain. That sounded...unlike you. Very unlike you. You didn’t lash out, even when provoked. You swallowed things. Endured. You held your breath until the moment passed, even when it hurt. He knew that about you—how much you took without standing up for yourself. Hated how quietly you hurt. For you to have snapped, something must have seriously gone wrong. And he had a sinking feeling he knew who had caused it.

"Is that so?" he murmured, voice dropping an octave, deeper now, colder. "Did she seem alright?"

Lira rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as if this entire conversation were beneath her. "She washed whatever got into her eyes out. She’s probably not blind...I don’t know," she said, casually inspecting her nails like the outcome meant nothing to her. Her tone was flippant, dismissive, and callously unconcerned—far too casual for someone potentially responsible for a serious injury.

It was painfully clear she didn’t care. Not about the mess. Not about you. Not about anything beyond her own amusement.

"Don’t tell me you actually give a shit about some random housekeeper?" she added with a mocking tilt of her head, as if the very notion was laughable. Her eyes gleamed with smugness, and her voice dripped with disdain, like she knew exactly what she was doing—trying to needle him into a reaction.

Sylus’s jaw flexed. He forced his features to remain smooth, impassive. The storm inside him stayed carefully caged behind a mask of cool indifference. He couldn’t afford to let her see it.

In her eyes? The words echoed in his skull, loud and brutal. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his breath. His mind began assembling images, each more infuriating than the last. You, blinking through stinging pain. Your eyes red and watering. Your small hands trembling as you tried to wash it away. Had you cried? Had you screamed? How much had it hurt?

His fists tightened at his sides. Something cold and ugly began to crawl beneath his skin.

He knew Lira. Knew her manipulative streak. Her vanity. Her need to dominate. And you? You had been quiet. Polite. Meek. An easy target. Of course Lira saw you as disposable. It was never an accident. Not with her. She’d done it to provoke you.

The fury brewing in his chest was becoming harder to ignore.

He’d review the cameras later. Every frame. Every moment. If even a fraction of this had gone the way he imagined, Lira would regret it.

Then something on the floor caught his eye. A small glint of glass. A reflection where there shouldn't have been one. He stepped forward, his movement calm but filled with quiet purpose. Kneeling, he reached out and picked it up—and the breath caught in his throat.

It was your phone. Or rather, the one he had bought for you. The sleek device he had carefully picked out among hundreds of others, just for you. Now, it lay shattered. The screen was fractured into a web of cracks, the casing scuffed and bent. It hadn’t just fallen. It had been thrown. Or dropped in a moment of panic.

His grip around the phone tightened as he slowly rose to his feet. He turned it over in his palm, brushing his thumb over the broken glass. Something inside him went cold.

Behind him, Lira watched. Silent now.

He didn’t turn to face her right away. He felt it wasn't a good idea, given the fact he was picturing Lira's skull cracked open on his pristine marble floors.

"Of course not, love," Sylus said smoothly, slipping the phone into his pocket with deliberate calm. His voice was level, but there was an edge beneath it, a chill that hadn’t been there before. "I’m just disappointed she won’t be able to work anymore. She was quite the worker. Reliable. Quiet. Cleaned very well. A shame she’s probably blind now."

Lira snickered softly from behind him, clearly pleased with his response. Her arms slipped around his torso with the confidence of someone who believed they still held control, pressing herself close like nothing was wrong, like she hadn’t just admitted to possibly blinding someone and didn’t care. Her voice slithered against his back like a silk scarf soaked in venom. "Then let’s move on. Maybe hire a guy next time. She didn’t clean that well."

Sylus gave a low chuckle, perfectly rehearsed. Smooth. Hollow. He made sure the sound was just the right volume, just the right tone to pass as indulgent. Inside, his stomach was twisted with rage.

He finally turned, his body uncoiling like a panther in slow motion as he faced her and returned the embrace. His arms wrapped around her gently, his posture warm and relaxed. But his fingers flexed once at her back, and behind her, his eyes had hardened into something sharp and merciless. Ice in his veins. Stone in his chest. His smile had vanished the moment her face was out of sight.

From her angle, she couldn’t see the glare carved into his features, the boiling calculation simmering just beneath the surface. She didn’t see the pulse ticking sharply in his jaw, or the way his muscles stayed too tense beneath the fabric of his suit. This game had gone on long enough. Too long. And if she thought she’d gotten away with anything—if she thought her smugness meant safety—she was sorely mistaken.

Time to step up the act.

Win her over completely. Make her feel secure, untouchable, wanted. Let her bask in his attention and believe she had power—right before he pulled it out from under her and watched her fall.

He pulled back just enough to flash a smile, one of his most convincing. Dangerous in its subtlety.

"I feel awful you had to wait so long for my arrival," he said, brushing a loose strand of her dark hair from her shoulder with fingers that didn’t tremble despite the storm inside him. His voice was soft but steady, a low hum of reassurance that masked a growing hunger for bloodshed. "Why don’t we get you something nice to wear for our next date? Something that turns heads. Something expensive."

Lira beamed at the sound of the word expensive, oblivious. Her eyes sparkled with delight, exactly as he expected. She was already dreaming of dresses, shoes, handbags—all distractions.

The bait was set.

Soon, she would learn what it meant to cross a line that should never have been crossed. To hurt something he considered his. And when that moment came, there would be no signal, no dramatic gesture—just swift, calculated ruin. Only the crushing realization that every compliment, every gift, every smile had been part of a carefully layered trap.

He ordered Mephisto to track you down the moment they stepped out. All it took was a single look—no words, no motion, just the subtle narrowing of his eyes. Mephisto, perched near the archway, caught it immediately. The crow tilted his head once, an eerily human gesture laced with intelligence and loyalty, before lifting into the air.

His wings moved in deliberate silence, slicing through the dusk with practiced ease. Mephisto vanished into the descending night like smoke caught in reverse. Sylus didn’t bother watching the direction. He didn’t have to. The bond between master and creation was deeper than flesh or blood. Mephisto would find you.

And yet, unease prickled at the base of Sylus’s neck throughout the entirety of the date.

He turned his attention to Lira, who had already resumed her gleeful hunt through the store like a child set loose in a candy factory. All the while, Sylus played the part of the attentive, indulgent date, letting the corners of his mouth curl up just enough. His posture was relaxed, his eyes kind. It was all a lie.

"This one compliments my eyes, right? Or maybe the green one? It matches that silk dress I wore last month. You remember that one, right, Sylus?" Lira held up handbag after handbag, her voice high and sweet, an endless stream of self-centered noise. She swiped them from the shelves without care, letting price tags flutter like confetti.

Sylus nodded absently, offering the occasional hum or murmur of agreement. But his mind had splintered far from this store, far from the garish clutches of designer excess. He wasn’t thinking about handbags or colors or eye-matching fabrics. He was thinking about you—your silence, your absence, your pain.

Every minute that passed without Mephisto’s signal twisted deeper into his gut. A slow, cold knife made of worry and fury. What if you were hurt worse than he thought? What if you'd left entirely? What if he had been too late?

He had all the money in the world. His fingers could pull the trigger on a purchase without a thought. Normally, twenty grand on a handbag was nothing. A whim. An indulgence. But now? Every swipe of his card stung. Every gift he handed to Lira felt like betrayal—not of her, but of you. The one who never asked for anything. The one who flinched when touched too suddenly, who worked quietly and tried to disappear.

Spending money on the woman who had hurt you—who had lied to him, disrespected him, and taken pleasure in making you feel small—was a grotesque ritual. One he had to endure to maintain the act. But it grated on his nerves like sandpaper on raw flesh.

Because she had harmed something he valued.

And that was something Sylus did not forgive.

He wore the mask of charm. He kept up the performance. Let her twirl and simper and babble about her next outfit while his mind sharpened every detail of what she had done. He didn’t even flinch when she leaned in to kiss his cheek, whispering something flirty about how generous he was. He smiled. Played the role. But inside, the storm was building.

All he needed now was a signal. A location. Coordinates. Proof that you were safe. That you were still somewhere he could reach.

You were all he could think about.

Even as Lira twirled in front of mirrors and held up garment after garment, all Sylus could see was the image of your red, tear-stained face burned into the back of his eyelids. The sound of your sobs echoed in his ears like a haunting refrain. Every giggle from Lira grated against him like nails dragging across glass. It tore him to shreds.

The only thing anchoring him was the hope that Mephisto would come back with something—anything—that would lead him to you.

He couldn’t focus. He couldn't stop imagining the scene.

Sylus excused himself from Lira with the best lie he could conjure—something about a urgent work call,—and slipped away down the corridor without waiting for her response. She didn’t question it. Why would she? She was too busy picking the most expensive items to put on his card. He moved fast, weaving through racks of overpriced shoes and glittering jewelry displays, ignoring the confused looks of staff as he passed.

The longer he stayed near Lira, the more bile rose in his throat. He ducked into a quieter wing of the boutique, somewhere out of her line of sight. He couldn’t stop thinking about it—the way she'd casually brushed off the incident, the way she'd smiled. It was gnawing at him so much he couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t pretend. He needed answers. He needed to see it for himself.

With a few secure taps on his phone, he accessed the base's private surveillance network. He keyed in his credentials, pulled up the timestamp from earlier that day, and began scrubbing through the footage. The knot in his gut, already tight, twisted harder with each second that passed as the video buffered and loaded on the small screen.

He cycled through hallway after hallway, the footage shaky and pixelated on the phone, nothing, nothing, until finally—

There it was. The kitchen. He slowed the footage, heart pounding like a war drum. There you were, hunched low on the ground, silently scrubbing the floor. You looked small. Smaller than he remembered. Worn down, your shoulders curled inward like you were trying to disappear. Every movement was robotic, joyless, your face blank and drained. There was no spark in your eyes. Even from the grainy angle, he could see the shadows beneath them.

His stomach dropped as Lira walked in. She moved with that same fake grace she always wore like perfume—cloying and nauseating. She opened the fridge, plucked something out, and turned.

And there it was.

He froze the frame. Her elbow extended, too far, too precise. The bucket tipped with an elegant arc that was far too controlled to be an accident. He resumed playback.

The contents splashed across your head, dousing your shoulders, soaking your clothes. You jumped, startled, eyes wide as you stumbled back toward the sink. He watched, horrified, as you clawed at your face, trying to rinse the chemical mix out of your eyes. You were panicking. Crying. Gasping. And all the while—

Lira stood there.

Arms crossed. Smirking. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t offer a towel. Didn’t move. And then—she laughed.

A cold, dismissive little giggle that made Sylus’s hands curl into fists at his sides. The sound echoed in the silent room like a slap to the face. His vision swam in red for a brief moment. He leaned forward, jaw clenched so tight it ached. He wanted to break something. Anything. Her, preferably.

Then came the worst part.

You didn’t fight back. Didn’t yell. You simply bolted—scrambling out of the frame like your very survival depended on it, your legs barely carrying you as you staggered down the hall. He watched, frozen, as tears streamed down your face, your whole body wracked with sobs so fierce they seemed to consume you. You looked like a ghost, a wraith of the person he remembered—barely holding yourself together as you collapsed beneath the weight of whatever finally broke you.

Humiliation had etched itself into every corner of your posture. And the silence with which you endured it only made it worse—like you didn’t even believe you were worth defending. Like you’d decided it was easier to vanish than to speak.

He had thought you were healing. Thought maybe—just maybe—you’d given him another chance. That fragile step through the front door of the penthouse, your hesitant gaze, your soft voice—it had felt like hope. Like redemption.

But now it was all dust.

Because of her.

Lira had twisted the story, of course. Lied like it was second nature. Told him you were the one who snapped, who overreacted. But this footage—this brutal, undeniable truth—told a different story. You hadn’t been dramatic. You hadn’t even been angry. You had just been hurt.

And Lira had laughed.

The sight of it made something inside him snap. Rage, cold and precise, coiled in his chest like a blade slowly turning. His blood pounded so violently he could feel it in his teeth. This wasn’t just irritation. This wasn’t annoyance.

This was fury. Real, violent fury.

Sylus had never felt such a strong need to hurt someone before. Much less a woman. His anger was so obvious that even Lira, who normally didn’t notice small changes in his mood, saw something was off when he came back to talk to her. To avoid raising suspicion, he told her that one of their competitors had intercepted a critical weapons shipment, delaying a major deal and throwing his schedule into chaos.

It wasn’t until after the outing, as he stepped out of the car and into the dim glow of his private elevator, that Mephisto returned. The mechanical bird landed silently on his shoulder, claws clicking gently against the fabric of his coat. Sylus didn’t even flinch.

With a soft whir and a flicker of light, Mephisto’s singular glowing eye projected an image in front of him—a brief, stuttering hologram flickering like a ghost in midair.

His heart nearly stopped.

It was you. You were stepping out of a battered ER facility tucked away on the outskirts of the N109 Zone. You clutched a handful of small packets—ointment, gauze, cheap painkillers—and your free hand was wiping at your eyes.

Your eyes were still red, still swollen, still visibly hurting in that grainy projection—and it struck Sylus like a punch to the chest, stealing the air from his lungs. That you had made it all the way to the ER by yourself, clearly in pain, and now leaving with nothing but a few low-grade packets of ointment and gauze, was almost too much to bear. The guilt rushed him like a wave. He had been out shopping, parading around with Lira on his arm as if she hadn’t just been the cause of your agony. He had smiled. He had pretended. He had let himself be distracted by a performance he no longer had the stomach for. And all the while, you had been enduring this alone. He could see the fatigue in the slump of your shoulders, the way your hand trembled as it wiped at your eyes. The image burned itself into his memory, a bitter reminder of where he should’ve been and what he should’ve done. That moment undid him more than any enemy's betrayal ever had.

You had been reduced to walking into one of the worst medical centers in the district alone. Those ERs were notorious—underfunded, overcrowded, and run by scam artists who used outdated tech and pushed overpriced treatments. He knew this. Everyone knew this. The only people who went there were the desperate.

You had been desperate. Probably had gone to this one to save money since you no longer wanted to work for him.

And he hadn’t been there.

He should’ve been comforting you. He should’ve been beside you the second it happened. But instead, he’d let Lira talk his ear off and dragged out the charade, all while you suffered.

Coupled with the fact that he had hurt you in his office—sent you screaming and crying after the two of you had come so close to something real, something intimate—the guilt gnawed at him, relentless and raw. It wasn’t just a lapse in judgment. It was a collapse of everything fragile that had been slowly built between you. He had crossed a line—one he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t. And in doing so, he shattered something he couldn’t rebuild with simple apologies. The sound of your voice—panicked, shaking—still rang in his ears like a ghost he couldn’t exorcise. Every memory of your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands pushing him away, returned in vivid flashes, worse than any nightmare he’d endured before.

Since then, he had moved through his days like a man made of ash. Outwardly composed, inwardly burning. Every moment of your absence stretched time thin. He found himself pacing in the dead of night, replaying conversations that never happened. Imagining how he could have said something—anything—that might have kept you from bolting out of his life again. He went over the same mental scripts a thousand times, but the guilt remained, heavy and immovable. None of the imagined words seemed right. None of them matched the depth of the damage.

And the worst of it was the look in your eyes when you left. That look—it spoke of wounds older than him, pain that he had only added to. Seeing him with Lira had cut you deeper than he’d expected. It hadn’t just made you jealous. It had confirmed something awful for you, something that told you not only could he not be trusted, but that you were never anything more than temporary in his world. And then, after you’d gathered enough courage to return, Lira had gone further. Had physically hurt you. Humiliated you. And he hadn’t been there to stop it.

He would make this right. And he knew exactly how to do it. He just needed time. 

The projection flickered in the air before him, casting pale light against the sleek steel walls of the elevator as it hummed its way upward in silence. His eyes tracked your every movement as you walked slowly into a nearby convenience store. Your figure looked small beneath the buzzing lights of the entrance, your shoulders hunched, head down, the weight of everything you were carrying clearly still pressing down on you. And then—you disappeared through the sliding doors, swallowed by the ordinary glow of artificial lights and low music. The image paused mid-frame, the last sliver of your figure frozen in time.

Sylus exhaled, the breath leaving his lungs in a slow, unsteady wave. He stared at the last frame of you until the projection dimmed and vanished, Mephisto beginning to groom his feathers.

From that day on, he watched you.

Mephisto became his eyes, tailing your every step with silent precision. Sylus couldn’t risk reaching out—not yet. He didn't want to risk making things worse before everything was in place. So he did the only thing he could: observe. When the base was quiet and the lights were low, he reviewed the footage. It killed him—watching you from a distance, unable to speak to you, unable to hold you. But it was necessary.

He had your broken phone dissected and data mined by one of his engineers, not just for intel, but to learn more about you. It was invasive, he knew that, but he needed to understand the pieces of your world you wouldn’t let him near. You didn’t text anyone, unsurprisingly. No family. No close friends. But your browsing habits told him more than words ever could. The music you played late at night, the shows you watched, sometimes on repeat. The food deliveries you favored. The kinds of clothes you lingered on when shopping online. It painted a picture of someone lonely, private, careful.

He watched you shop for groceries with your head down. Watched you lie on benches in public parks, arms folded beneath your head, eyes toward the sky like you were asking the universe for something—anything. Watched you fall asleep on your sofa, your face turned toward the window. And he saw you cry. A lot. Quietly, bitterly. Like you were trying not to make a sound, like even your sorrow had to be hidden.

But at least your eyes looked better now—less raw, less swollen. The redness that once rimmed them like bruises had faded to a dull pink, and the frantic blinking he saw in earlier footage had slowed. You still shielded them from harsh artificial lights, still winced when the dry zone wind picked up near the vents or between buildings, but you weren’t constantly dabbing at them anymore. It was a small mercy, a tiny fragment of recovery he clung to like a lifeline in the midst of everything else unraveling.

Still, you never once came near Onychinus. Not even close. You avoided it like a scar you couldn’t bear to touch. And that hurt more than he could admit. He wasn’t just watching your life unfold.

He was watching it unfold without him.

There was one night where Sylus actually had enough time to sit and watch Mephisto’s feed in real-time. The base was quiet, his responsibilities temporarily stalled, and for once he wasn’t surrounded by the constant noise of demands and decisions. He was alone, tucked in the corner of his private quarters, the room dim except for the soft glow of a single reading lamp. A glass of untouched whiskey sat on the table beside him, the condensation forming slow, lazy trails down the crystal. He didn’t even notice it anymore. His focus was entirely on the screen in front of him.

Mephisto’s lens adjusted with a soft, mechanical whir, zooming in on the grainy outline of you sitting on a concrete bench outside your apartment complex. The N109 zone was unusually still that night—no sirens, no distant shouts.

You were holding something in your lap. He squinted at the screen, leaning in. Cans? At first, he thought maybe you were just out there eating alone, which stung more than he’d expected. But then he noticed the labeling, the shape. His brow furrowed as you reached into your satchel and pulled out a small, battered handheld opener. Cat food. You had several cans of it, lined up neatly in your bag like you’d planned this.

He watched, transfixed, as you cracked open the first can, the hiss of the seal breaking lost to the silent feed. Then the soundless feed shifted as shadows moved.

Out of alleyways. From beneath rusted cars. Across the broken pavement.

Cats.

They came running. Maybe ten or eleven of them. Scrappy, wiry little things with torn ears and patchy fur—survivors of the N109 Zone just like everything else that refused to die. And yet, when they reached you, there was no fear. You laid the open cans down side by side on the bench and sidewalk with the care of someone who’d done this before, who knew their names even if you’d never spoken them aloud. You touched each of them like you meant it—stroking backs, scratching behind ears, whispering words Mephisto couldn’t record.

You had clearly been putting all your newfound wealth to good use.

And then—

You smiled.

It wasn’t big. But to him, it was luminous. Gentle, unguarded, and beautiful in a way that struck him dumb. The corners of your mouth lifted like a fragile sunrise breaking through the storm cloud of your silence, and for a heartbeat, the world felt soft again. It was the kind of smile he could have stared at for hours—the kind that made his chest tighten with the sharp ache of longing. He hadn’t seen it in weeks. Maybe longer. But now that he had, it felt like breathing after being underwater.

Sylus froze. His hand hovered over the control screen, muscles locked in place, breath caught in his chest like a knife wedged between his ribs. That smile—it wasn’t for anyone. Not for him. And yet, how he wished it had been. Wished it had been prompted by the thought of him, that maybe some tiny part of your heart had softened while thinking of something he'd done right. But it wasn’t. It was real because it was yours. Untouched by him. A flicker of who you were beneath all the pain, all the bitterness he had helped create. A piece of you that still had warmth to give despite everything. Despite him. And he ached to be worthy of it.

It hit harder than he expected. Made his throat tighten, made his heart pound with something that wasn’t quite guilt and wasn’t quite longing, but some painful combination of the two. Because in that moment, you weren’t crying. You weren’t haunted. You weren’t braced for someone to hurt you again. You were just...alive. Still capable of kindness. Still capable of love.

He missed that smile so much it physically hurt. And he hated himself a little more for being part of the reason it was gone in the first place.

It hurt so much, in fact, that he got reckless. The weight of that one smile—the one not meant for him—broke past every barrier of restraint he’d built up over the past few weeks. That moment haunted him. It reminded him of what he’d lost. And somewhere in that ache, a dangerous thought took root.

This was his chance.

He could see you in person. Try again. Maybe say something that would make you smile like that—except this time, because of him. Maybe, just maybe, he could remind you of something good, lead you gently back toward forgiveness. Would you blame him? The distance was killing him. Watching you from the shadows wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

So he got up and moved. The next day, he bought out the entire stock of cat food from the nearest pet shop—every brand, every flavor. The clerk looked at him like he was unhinged. Maybe he was. He didn’t care. He loaded it all into a sleek black duffel bag and made his way down to the bench—the bench you always sat on when feeding the strays.

And then, he waited.

The wind in the N109 Zone was dry, biting as it swept through the alleyways. He pulled his coat tighter and sat down, feeling the cool concrete seep through his clothes. His heart pounded against his ribs like it was trying to escape. He almost laughed at himself—Sylus, who had faced down kings, mercenaries, warlords, and wanderers without flinching, now sat breathing heavily like a nervous schoolboy.

And all it had taken was a girl.

He waited so long on that bench, he started to question whether you were even coming today. The hours bled together in the dim haze of the N109 Zone’s artificial glow. The longer he sat there, the colder the concrete felt beneath him, and the more his anticipation twisted into quiet dread. He leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning every shadow, every alley, every passerby—hoping, wishing.

And then he noticed them. The stray cats.

They lingered near the edges of the buildings, cautious and silent, peeking out from behind trash bins and crumbling brick corners. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, tracking his every movement. It was clear they were hungry—ribs showing, tails flicking anxiously—but just as clear they didn’t trust him. He was a stranger. And predators in this zone were never scarce.

Still, they watched.

He shifted the duffel bag at his feet and unzipped it slowly. His fingers found one of the cans near the top—chicken flavor. You’d fed them that once. Maybe they’d remember.

With a small breath, he cracked the seal. The soft hiss of the lid releasing echoed quietly in the stillness of the night, sharp enough to make one of the braver cats dart forward. Then another followed. Then another. Within seconds, Sylus found himself surrounded.

A growing circle of thin, meowing cats closed in around him, some dragging along their kittens, all staring up at him with a mix of desperation and curiosity. He placed the open can down gently, then another, and another, spacing them out in a neat row at his feet like he’d seen you do. The cats hesitated at first, sniffing cautiously.

Then—chaos. A flurry of movement as they dove in, yowling and pawing, tails swishing with excitement.

One of them, an orange tabby missing an eye, wandered closer than the others. It circled him once, sniffed the air, then pressed its scrappy little body against his leg. Sylus blinked in surprise. The tabby looked up at him with its one good eye, wide and glassy.

"Mew!"

The sound was soft but insistent. Almost demanding.

Sylus chuckled. Cats didn’t usually take to him. He was too still, too cold, too unreadable. Even animals could sense that. But this one had no fear. It rubbed against his shoe like he belonged there. He could see now—he finally understood—why you came out here night after night. Why you fed them. Why you stayed, even after everything. Surrounded by these fragile, feral creatures, it was hard not to feel something warm.

For the first time in weeks, the corners of his mouth genuinely twitched upward.

He reached down slowly, careful not to scare the orange tabby away, his fingers hovering just above its scruffy head. The cat's single eye blinked up at him, trusting and unafraid, and in that fleeting instant, Sylus felt something shift inside him. He was just about to brush his fingers behind its ears, indulging in the fragile peace of the moment, when a sound tore through the stillness.

"S-Sylus?"

The voice was unmistakable—soft, cracked, hesitant. Yours.

It hit him like a blow to the ribs.

He froze, the motion dying in his hand. His breath caught. His heart thudded once, then seemed to stall entirely. The tabby looked up at him, puzzled by his sudden stillness, but Sylus didn’t notice. All he could hear was the tremble in your voice. All he could feel was the air shift behind him.

For weeks he had watched you from a distance, rehearsing in his mind what he might say if this moment ever came. But now that you were truly here, standing just steps behind him in the flickering light cast by the streetlamps outside your apartment complex, every word he'd ever imagined seemed to vanish.

He turned from his position on the bench to face you, slowly rising to his feet. And there you were—standing just a few feet away, eyes wide with disbelief, mouth parted slightly as if caught mid-thought. You clutched a crinkled bag of cat food to your chest, the branding on it different from what he was used to seeing you carry. Ah. That explained it. You must have walked farther than usual tonight, probably to a different store. That was what had taken you so long.

He tried to keep his voice even, casual. Like his heart wasn’t hammering in his chest.

"You're late," he said lightly, attempting a crooked smile. "I was starting to think you weren’t showing up at all."

You didn’t smile back. Instead, your eyes flicked to the duffel bag near his feet, the one still half-open, revealing the stacks of cat food cans nestled inside.

You exhaled, clutching your own bag tighter.

"Well…this at least explains why there wasn’t any cat food at my usual store..." you muttered, voice dry with irritation but layered with confusion. You weren't directly talking to him. More to yourself as you glued your gaze to the ground.

There was a pause.

He wanted to say something—anything—that would make this moment lighter. But before he got the chance, you suddenly dropped the bag of cat food you were holding.

Your body began to shake, the first sob slipping from you so abruptly it startled him. Your hands flew up to cover your face, shoulders hunching as you folded in on yourself. The sound of your crying wasn’t gentle. "Why?" you cried out, your voice hoarse and cracking under the weight of something deeper than frustration.

"Why can’t you all just leave me alone?"

Tears seeped between your fingers, catching what little light glowed from the apartment windows above, shimmering like glass on the verge of shatter. And Sylus froze. His breath hitched, legs rooted in place, stunned by the sight of you unraveling in front of him.

Still, he moved. A single step forward. His voice dropped to something tender. "Sweetie, I just wanted to—"

But you cut him off like a whip crack, snapping your head up with a look that pierced through him. Your eyes, red-rimmed and soaked, were wide with something bordering terror. You stumbled back, voice rising into something he didn’t think you were capable of.

"No! I won’t let you trick me again. I won’t let you ruin even this for me!"

You motioned around to the scraggly cats that had gathered, now startled by your cry. "These cats are all I have! Leave!"

There was so much packed into your scream—grief, betrayal, loneliness. The echo of your voice bounced off the buildings, raw and fractured, louder than anything he’d ever heard from you. Louder than anything you’d said even when Lira had humiliated you. And that was what made it real.

He had broken something in you. Something precious. Something that had once trusted him.

He stood there, helpless. Stupidly helpless. His usual calm dissolved into something brittle and uncertain. He’d come here thinking he could fix it with an appearance, a gesture, a shared memory. He’d brought the cat food like some peace offering, like this was something that could be solved with tuna and a half-hearted apology.

But this wasn’t fixable. Not in one night. Not with words. You were hurting in a way he hadn’t prepared for. And the awful thing was, he knew he was part of that pain.

"Calm down," he murmured, lifting his hands in a quiet surrender, trying not to spook you more. His voice was low, deliberate, barely more than breath. "I just wanted to see how you’re doing. You quit so suddenly...I didn’t even get to say goodbye."

He paused, swallowing the guilt swelling in his throat. He inhaled through his nose slowly, like maybe it would help him hold himself together.

"I’m sorry. About Lira."

The words left his mouth and immediately felt useless, too soft and too late. They floated in the space between you like ashes, meaningless against the storm you had just unleashed. It was all he could really offer in the moment. He still couldn't explain anything.

You wiped your face with your sleeve, trembling from head to toe. Your breaths came in jagged gasps, like you were barely holding yourself together. He couldn’t help but notice how much you reminded him of the stray cats circling at your feet—skittish, wounded, unsure if they should run or lash out. But even now, some of them nudged their heads against your legs as if sensing your pain, trying in their own small, quiet way to comfort you.

You looked up at him with eyes that burned, bloodshot and fierce. Your voice was cracked but full of fury when you spat, "Oh yeah? Did she break up with you? So you've come to offer me more money to use my body one last time?"

The accusation hit harder than any physical blow could have. Sylus froze for a beat, stunned by the raw boldness in your tone. You were trembling, but your glare was unflinching. He hadn't expected this. He thought you'd cry, maybe even yell—but not this unflinching, wounded rage. Not words that carved right through him.

"Nonsense," he said quickly, his tone trying and failing to remain calm. "I've never once used you. That has never been my intention. I'm trying to show you otherwise."

He stepped forward, slow and measured, but you recoiled like his shadow alone was poison. You took several steps back, your whole body shaking as tears streamed freely once more.

"Fuck you!" you cried, voice rising into a scream that cracked at the edges. "Dirty, lying disgusting man! I can't believe I ever let you touch me!"

And then your words became venom, spat with a bitterness that made his chest tighten.

"Rot in hell—with Lira!"

For a moment, all sound dropped away. The street seemed to still. Even the cats froze, as if stunned by the power in your voice.

You suddenly took off running, the soles of your shoes slapping against the pavement, arms tight against your sides as if trying to outrun the weight of your own pain. You didn’t even look back—not once. Sylus could’ve chased after you. He could’ve reached you in seconds if he wanted, easily caught you, wrapped his arms around you, held you close until all your fury cracked and spilled into sobs against his chest. That was what he wanted. More than anything. To take away the storm inside you. To prove—somehow—that you still mattered to him, that he hadn’t just watched Lira hurt you and get away with it.

But he didn’t move.

He just stood there, rooted to the pavement, heart thudding in his ears as he watched you disappear around the corner. The sound of your footsteps echoed briefly in the distance, then faded entirely.

He exhaled slowly, the breath long and quiet, filled with something that felt dangerously close to defeat.

With heavy limbs, he bent down and opened the rest of the cans you'd brought, the branding still bright and unfamiliar. One by one, he lined them up next to the ones he’d already set out, creating a neat little offering for the cats. A silent gesture. Something you would’ve done. Something that, in its own small way, felt like penance.

The cats began to gather again, cautiously at first, then more freely, drawn to the scent and the quiet. He sat back down on the bench, not speaking, just watching them eat—your ghosts curling around his ankles, your absence hanging heavy in the still night air.

And Sylus sat there, speechless. He had prepared for distance, for rejection. But not this. Not hatred. Still, beneath the sting of your words, something else clung to his chest like a thorn: guilt. Not because you were wrong—but because, somewhere deep down, he feared you might be right.

There was truly only one way he could fix this. Sylus knew it as surely as he knew the weight of the guilt sitting like iron in his chest. He would do anything at this point—anything—to prove to you that he wasn’t the monster you thought he was. Not just some cold, calculating manipulator. The mission, the protocore, the weeks of strategy and precision—all of it suddenly seemed meaningless.

Screw the mission. This had to end. And it would. Soon.

Your words haunted him. They came back to him at night like echoes in an empty room, brittle and sharp: "Rot in hell with Lira!" "I can't believe I let you touch me!" The memory of your voice, so raw and choked with pain, became the fuel that drove him forward.

He didn’t wait.

He gave the twins their orders with little room for questions. Clear out Onychinus's basement. Reinforce the walls. Install restraints—sturdy ones. A bed. A functioning toilet. Privacy. Enough space to keep someone short term.

They didn’t ask why. They never did. They just obeyed.

And as the preparations continued in secret, Sylus played his role above ground with clinical precision. He got closer to Lira, tolerating her presence like poison he needed to swallow. She laughed easily, curled up against him in expensive clothes he bought to keep up the act. She genuinely seemed to believe they were getting serious. She babbled about vacations, about jewelry, about which mansion they might share someday.

It turned his stomach.

But Sylus smiled, played along, even kissed her on the head when necessary. Each touch was calculated. Each compliment a blade hidden in silk. It was a performance, and he hated every second of it. But it was necessary.

Because soon, he would be done pretending.

Funnily enough, he received the final confirmation that everything was ready the moment he returned from one of those wretched weekend getaways Lira had dragged him on. A remote estate in the quieter sector, where she’d posed in swimsuits for pictures while he sat by the window, checking Mephisto’s surveillance updates on your movements. 

The text came in as he stepped out of the car:

"Project complete. Basement secured bossman!"

A dark satisfaction bloomed in his chest.

It was time.

"That was sooo fun. We should do that way more often!" Lira giggled, the pitch of her voice cutting through the air like champagne fizz. She let go of her suitcase with a dramatic flair, dropping it right in front of one of Sylus's men, who wordlessly stepped forward to grab it. Lira didn’t even look back. She was already making her way toward Sylus, hips swaying, lips curled into a sugar-sweet smile. When she reached him, she threw her arms around his neck like she’d done it a thousand times before—like he belonged to her.

Sylus beamed down at her, the image of the doting boyfriend, all slick charm and impeccable polish. "I’m starting to think your definition of 'fun' is testing my tolerance for overpriced cocktails and sunburns," he quipped, his grin laced with just the right amount of flirtation to keep the illusion alive.

Lira laughed like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard, light and airy, her lashes fluttering as she gazed up at him. "You love it," she purred, leaning in so close he could smell her perfume—something floral, expensive, cloying. It made his stomach churn.

But he didn’t flinch. He played along, like he always did.

Then, without warning, her expression shifted. The lightness in her eyes dimmed, replaced with something more intimate, more deliberate. She took a small step back, her hands sliding down his arms. "I've been thinking," she began, voice lowering as if confessing a secret. "I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. And I really want you to meet my dad. He’s on Itiwa Island and—"

The words were out before she realized. She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening. Her lips parted, and for a beat, she looked like a child who’d just blurted out something they weren’t supposed to say.

"Oops! Oh well," she said quickly, waving it off with a flick of her fingers and an exaggerated grin. "I want you to meet him anyway! I really feel...serious about you. Which is crazy for me??? Ha!"

Her laughter came again, forced now, high-pitched and shaky. She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked away, suddenly shy, like she realized she’d given too much.

Sylus’s smile didn’t waver. If anything, it grew. He chuckled as if touched by her words, but inside his mind snapped to a razor focus. Itiwa Island. Finally.

He could almost hear the last pieces clicking into place, a sharp, satisfying snap that echoed in the quiet recesses of his mind. This was it—the final thread pulled loose, the curtain ready to fall. The endgame wasn’t just near. It was unfolding, and Lira, in her arrogant, oblivious way, had delivered it to him gift-wrapped. Not just information, but the excuse he’d needed. The final justification. He no longer had to pretend.

He had spent weeks lying through his teeth, letting her believe he cared, touching her like it meant something. Every fake smile, every forced compliment—it had all been worth it for this. And now? Now he could stop pretending. Now he could break her. Watch her finally understand just who she'd been playing house with. The timing wasn’t just perfect—it was divine. She had no idea that her last laugh had already come and gone.

He gently kissed her forehead, murmured something smooth, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him like a satisfied cat.

"Can we kiss? Like…actually kiss this time?" Lira whispered, her voice trembling just enough to betray the desperation beneath her coquettish tone. She licked her lips slowly, her hands rising to cradle Sylus’s face, fingertips brushing his jawline as she leaned in. Her breath was warm and sweet with anticipation, her eyelids fluttering half-shut. She clearly believed this moment was hers.

Sylus didn’t flinch. He remained still, unmoving as stone, letting her get close—dangerously close. His expression was unreadable, save for the faint tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched at his sides. The silence stretched between them like wire, taut and sharp.

Then, with a sudden and deliberate motion, he lifted his hand—not in tenderness, but with calculated disdain. His palm met her face, and he shoved.

Hard.

Lira stumbled backward, the force catching her completely off guard. Her heels scraped across the gravel as she lost balance, arms flailing before she crashed to the ground with a sickening thud. A jagged stone tore into her knee as she landed, slicing through skin and drawing blood. She let out a sharp cry, her voice echoing across the empty lot.

“What the hell, Sylus?!” she screamed, genuine pain mingling with disbelief as she clutched her leg. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Sylus took one slow step forward, then another. He loomed over her now, a dark figure lit only by the harsh yellow streetlight above. Shadows carved into his face, and the crimson gleam in his eye burned like a warning flare. The heat of restrained rage radiated from him, curling beneath his skin like smoke.

His voice cut through the silence, low and cold. "I would never kiss garbage," he said, eyes narrowing with disdain. "Not in this life or the next."

He let the words hang in the air, heavy and final. Lira stared up at him, wounded both in body and pride, utterly stunned.

Lira's face twisted from shock into something far more volatile—raw fury. Her eyes blazed as she stumbled backward, her voice rising, shrill and wild with disbelief. "Just wait until my father hears about this. You'll regret this!" she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of panic. She clearly believed her threat still carried weight, that the name of a man who had been hiding from him would still make Sylus hesitate.

Sylus gave a slow, cold chuckle, one devoid of humor. Her bravado was almost adorable in its desperation. With the lazy flick of his fingers, he summoned his men forward. She had just signed the last page of her own story. How sweet that she still thought anyone feared her father, a man too cowardly to show his face, too weak to stick around to protect even his own daughter.

"I don’t think anyone will be hearing from you for a very long time," he said, his voice smooth and clinical, like a scalpel. It lacked any trace of anger—just cool, final certainty. He gave a small, precise gesture to the guards without even looking at them. "You know where to put her."

Lira’s arrogance melted like wax under fire. The transformation was immediate and absolute. Her posture wilted, her face drained of color, and her breath caught in her throat. Her lip quivered as she took several shaking steps back. "Wait! Sylus, I’m sorry, okay? I love you. Please, we can just—"

But her plea broke into a shriek as one of the guards reached for her. She exploded into a frenzy, lashing out in blind terror. Her arms flailed, nails slashing at air, at flesh, at anything she could reach. She kicked and screamed, her voice growing hoarse as she struggled against the inevitable. She clawed at their uniforms, at the pavement, trying to anchor herself to something—anything—that might save her. But nothing did.

"Love? You don't truly love anything or anyone but yourself" Sylus scoffed.

As they dragged her toward the looming shadow of Onychinus, her screams echoed down the cold corridor of the night. Each one felt like a jagged shard of glass, cutting through the still air. Her sobs were unhinged, feral—nothing like the composed, flirtatious woman she had been just minutes before. That woman was gone now, stripped bare by fear.

Sylus watched with detached precision, his expression unreadable. Not a flicker of guilt or hesitation crossed his face. There was no satisfaction in his eyes, no gloating. Just cold execution. This wasn’t simply vengeance, not in the way most would define it. This was justice. This was what needed to be done.

He turned slowly, the sound of her cries dimming behind him. The streetlight caught the gleam of his red eye as he stepped away. She had underestimated him. Now, she would learn the cost—stripped of her dignity, silenced, and erased from the equation. And soon, her father would join her. Sylus now had everything he needed to move forward, and with Lira out of the way, there were no more barriers. No more distractions. He would hunt Adan down, rip the location of the protocore from his throat if needed, and finally bring this long chase to an end.

And for Sylus, this was only the beginning of his true intentions. Prove just how much you meant to him. Every move he made from here on out would be for you, and he wouldn’t stop until you saw the truth with your own eyes.

This couldn't be happening. You felt like your whole world was coming apart.

"Robert. C'mon… you can't be serious? Raising my rent right now? Of all times?" you pleaded, your voice thick with frustration and barely contained panic. You sat across from your landlord in his cramped, smoky office, the harsh fluorescent light flickering above. The air was stale with the scent of old carpet and cigar smoke, making your stomach turn.

Robert took another long drag from his cigar, leaning back in his squeaky leather chair, eyes half-lidded with boredom. He exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift toward the ceiling in lazy curls. Then he gave you a crooked, almost smug smile. "Nothing I can do, sweetheart. Costs are going up. Maintenance fees, utilities, taxes—it all adds up."

You stared at him, disbelief churning in your gut. "But I just need a little more time. I’m almost out of here. This hike is going to set me back several months."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced or simply indifferent. "Shouldn't be an issue for you though, right? Didn’t you get that new job at an office?"

Your heart sank. You hesitated, gripping the sides of your chair so tightly your knuckles went white. The lie you had let him believe—the one that had bought you a little breathing room—was turning against you now. You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to suppress the surge of hopelessness rising in your chest. You had no job. Not anymore.

You should’ve known he’d do this. He’d waited, watched. The moment he sensed your income had changed, he’d pounced. And now here you were, no leverage, no stability, and no way to stop what was coming next.

You knew better than to try and argue with him. In a place like this, where nothing was regulated and everything could be bought or coerced, arguing would only give him more reason to push harder. Anywhere else, what he was doing—raising rent out of nowhere, leveraging fear—would be considered highly illegal. But this was the N109 Zone. The rules here were unwritten, and those with power played the game however they wanted.

Robert was not an understanding man. He didn’t see tenants—he saw numbers, dollar signs, opportunities to squeeze. And if those numbers cried or pleaded? That just made it more entertaining. You could practically feel the satisfaction radiating off him as he watched you squirm. He was probably getting off to your tears.

You wiped your face roughly with the back of your sleeve, forcing your emotions back into the dark corner where you usually kept them. You grabbed your bag and stood up on unsteady legs.

"Alright. I'll...get it to you soon," you said, voice low but firm enough to end the conversation.

Robert let out a low chuckle as you turned to leave. "There’s other ways to pay if you fall on hard times, sweetheart. You know where to find me."

Your entire body tensed, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. You stormed out, your footsteps heavy with rage, shame, and the choking need to get far away from the stench of his cigar smoke. You didn’t stop walking until you were outside, gulping down the thick, industrial air like it was fresh. At least it didn’t reek of him.

Men. Were there any redeemable qualities about them? This was the question you had been turning over and over in your head these past few weeks, like a stone rubbed smooth by restless fingers. You'd clawed your way out of one man’s hell, thinking you were free, only to find yourself squarely in another's grip. Though in truth, you'd been caught in Robert's trap since the very moment you signed that damn lease. You just hadn't known it yet. He’d been waiting like a vulture, circling slowly until you were weak enough for him to swoop in.

Now here you were—jobless, cornered, and trying to calculate how long you could hold out before everything fell apart. You didn’t want to touch your savings. That money was supposed to be your escape plan, the key to somewhere far away from this godforsaken city, somewhere clean and quiet where no one knew your name. Not Robert’s next rent check. Not the almost two thousand dollars he now demanded each month.

You could already feel the tightrope snapping beneath your feet. Rent. Utilities. Food. All while the job listings you scoured were either dead ends or dangerous scams. It was all piling up, a slow avalanche that was starting to crush your chest a little more each day. You'd probably accumulate more debt if you didn't do something soon.

You needed another job. Something, anything, to keep you afloat until you could disappear for good. But the thought of starting over again, of reentering the endless loop—filling out the same tired applications, smiling through interviews that felt more like interrogations, pretending you were competent and cheerful while your insides were screaming—made your stomach twist with dread. Still, what choice did you have? If you didn’t find work soon, you’d have to crawl back to the same people who broke you just to survive at your old job.

And that was something you refused to do. No matter what it cost, you would find another way.

Sylus briefly popped into your head, uninvited and unwelcome, like a phantom from a dream you couldn’t shake. His face, his voice, the way he used to look at you—intense, like he could see through you—tried to claw its way back into your thoughts. But you shoved it down hard, burying the memory as deep as it would go. No. You wouldn’t go crawling back. You had quit. For good. Whatever he was trying to do near the cats that day didn’t matter anymore. You didn’t want to know why he had waited for you or what was going through his head.

The truth was, seeing him had cracked something open inside you—raw, confused emotions that surged up like floodwaters, catching you off guard. You had barely managed to hold yourself together before it all came pouring out. So you did what you thought would protect you. You screamed. You raged. You hurled words like knives, each one designed to cut, to drive him away before he could reach the soft, unguarded parts of you again. And it worked.

Had you meant any of it? Not really. The pain in his eyes had lingered in your mind ever since, a weight you carried even as you told yourself it was necessary. But the truth was, he hadn’t come back. You hadn't seen him on that bench again. And maybe that’s what hurt most. Maybe that was the final confirmation you didn’t want—proof that this really was the end.

Your chest ached at the thought that it might have been the last time you'd ever see him. The last time his voice would reach your ears, the last time his eyes would lock with yours. That he had finally gotten the message and walked away for good. A quiet voice inside you whispered that maybe—just maybe—you should’ve heard him out. That maybe, beneath whatever games he played, he had actually come to apologize, to explain. To try. But the louder voice, the one that had grown calloused and cynical, reminded you why you couldn't afford to believe in that.

That voice told you this was what standing up for yourself looked like. It was messy, brutal, and it didn’t come with a warm sense of closure. It came with silence. Loneliness. And pain. But it was still freedom.

Even if it hurt.

You kept telling yourself it was for the best. You needed to grow stronger. To stop giving men like him the benefit of the doubt. To stop thinking that kindness and power could ever coexist in someone like him. You needed to protect what little fragments of yourself still felt whole. You repeated those thoughts like a mantra, whispering them in your head when it got too quiet, reciting them like a prayer every time his name tried to creep into your mind. Again and again, until the sting dulled. Until the memories blurred. Until the lies you told yourself began to feel almost true.

You did some mental math and sighed. As much as you hated to admit it, feeding the cats every day had honestly been setting you back. The cost of all that food wasn’t negligible—not anymore, not when every credit counted. Not that you regretted it. Those scrappy little strays had been there for you long before any of this money came. Before Sylus. Before the chaos. They had kept you company in the loneliest nights, soft bodies curled around your ankles, gentle purrs offering a strange sort of comfort that no person ever had.

And it felt right—necessary, even—to give back. To give them some real food instead of scraps or half of whatever leftover dinner you'd managed to scrounge up. You remembered the way their eyes lit up the first time you brought out full cans, how they meowed and rubbed against your legs like you were some kind of savior. You had smiled then, genuinely, the first in what felt like ages.

But now things were different. Now they weren’t hunting for themselves anymore. They relied on you—completely. And that reliance was starting to weigh on you. Every trip to the store chipped away at the funds you were supposed to be protecting. Every mealtime was a reminder that the little comfort you had created was beginning to turn into yet another responsibility you couldn’t afford.

You'd have to figure out something, and soon. Maybe find a food bank, or a vendor who could give you scraps. Maybe someone in the neighborhood could help. Anything to stretch the time you had left. Because if you couldn’t make this work…then you weren’t just failing yourself anymore.

You were failing them too. But what was new?

You had always been a failure.

As the days passed and the job hunt began in earnest, you hated the realization you’d come to… you missed having a phone. Really missed it. You’d never been able to afford one before Sylus, so you hadn’t known what you were missing. It had just been another luxury that existed on the other side of an unbridgeable gap. But now, stripped of that convenience after briefly tasting it, the void felt impossibly large. You couldn’t check listings on the go, couldn’t respond to opportunities quickly, couldn’t map routes or compare wages, or even distract yourself from your own spiraling thoughts. The world moved faster without you, and you felt stranded in the dust.

God, job hunting the manual way sucked. You walked from building to building until your legs ached and your shoes pinched. You wore your best face, the most polite smile you could muster, and still it felt useless. You had learned about applying online after contemplating quitting a few times while working under Sylus. You’d even bookmarked a few promising sites back then, telling yourself you’d figure it all out eventually. But now? Now you were stuck in analog hell, wasting precious time, energy, and what little pride you had left.

It wasn’t just exhausting—it was humiliating. Each rejection didn’t come with a polite email or a form letter. It came face-to-face, often with someone who wouldn’t even meet your eyes. The eye rolls. The impatient glances toward the door. The irritated sighs. And the most soul-sucking one of all—the dismissive, offhanded phrase that seemed to follow you everywhere.

“Just apply online. What are you doing here?”

The words burned more each time you heard them. Hearing them in the middle of rush hour, with people brushing past you like you were invisible, only made the sting sharper. Each rejection was like a slap, loud and public and unkind. It didn’t matter how nice you were, how hard you tried. To them, you were just some clueless idiot holding up the line.

You didn’t cry—not out in the open. But your jaw clenched harder each time. Your chest got tighter. Every time you walked out of a shop, you felt the weight of failure settle deeper into your body like bricks in your pockets. You kept telling yourself it would get easier. That someone would give you a chance. But the truth was, this was harder than you thought it would be. And you had already thought it would be hard.

You were running out of options, and worst of all, you were starting to wonder if you’d made a mistake. If maybe, just maybe, you’d pushed away the only thing keeping you afloat. But no. No. You couldn’t go back to that.

Could you?

It didn’t get better. In fact, it got worse. The job hunt went from humiliating to downright terrifying. And the one time you actually managed to land an interview—of all places—it was at some rundown building tucked between a boarded-up market and a broken streetlight that flickered like a warning sign. You had been so desperate that you ignored the signs, walked in with shaky hope. But the moment you stepped inside, your stomach turned.

The room smelled like mold and something vaguely metallic. There was a couch in the middle of the room, stained with mysterious fluids you didn’t even want to begin identifying. It wasn’t even near the desk. Just…placed in the center like it was waiting for you. The man who greeted you didn’t even rise from his seat. He just motioned lazily to the couch and smirked.

You didn’t even hesitate. You turned right around and walked out with your hands covering your eyes, as if doing so could erase what you had seen. Your heart raced the entire way home. You didn’t even know what the job was for. He hadn’t said. You hadn’t asked.

You weren’t sure if you felt more disgusted or defeated. That was the only scored interview you’d gotten all week. Maybe longer. And it had been a trap—plain and simple.

By the time you made it back to your building, you didn’t even go inside. You sat down on the cold concrete steps, head in your hands, and just let the silence press down on you.

You had no other choice.

You had to go back to your old job.

You hesitated outside the familiar chipped blue door of the diner, your fingers tightening around the strap of your worn-out bag. The smell of fryer oil and burnt coffee hit you instantly—nostalgic and slightly nauseating. It was the same scent that clung to your clothes during every shift. Every step closer made your stomach twist tighter, each footfall echoing louder in your ears. You could already see your old coworkers through the windows, wiping down tables, chatting like nothing had changed. The fluorescent lights above them buzzed faintly, the sound oddly grating. Your throat felt dry.

You pushed the door open, and the bell above it gave its usual mechanical ring—tinny and tired. A few heads turned at the sound. One of your old coworkers gave you a cautious half-smile, the kind that barely touched their eyes. Another looked away quickly, suddenly fascinated by the buttons on the register. You tried to return the gesture, but your smile came out thin and brittle, like it would snap under pressure. You forced yourself to the counter, heart pounding.

"Hey...is Selene in?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, steady. But the slight quiver in your tone betrayed you.

A tense silence settled over the diner. The clinking of silverware paused. Even the distant sizzle from the kitchen seemed to dull. Finally, someone nodded stiffly and disappeared into the back without a word.

It didn’t take long.

Selene emerged like a storm. Her heels clacked against the tiled floor with sharp, deliberate precision. Her expression was unreadable, carved in stone and cold as ice. She stopped in front of you, arms crossed over her chest, and for a brief second, you held onto a tiny, desperate hope that she might actually listen. That maybe she’d let you explain. That maybe time had softened her.

But then she spat—right at your feet.

"You’ve got some nerve coming back here," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You’re not welcome. You never were. So don't even fix your mouth and ask for a job."

The words hit harder than the spit. You opened your mouth to respond, to defend yourself, to finally say all the things you had held in—but the words caught in your throat like barbed wire.

You knew exactly why she treated you this way. Why you’d been fired so suddenly. Her husband, Scott—also a line cook at the diner—had been creeping on you since your first week. Little comments made in hushed tones, his eyes lingering far too long, the way he’d brush past you when there was clearly enough space. You’d always dismissed it, trying to maintain peace, trying not to cause waves. You’d told him no, pushed him away politely, then firmly. But when he finally cornered you one night by the walk-in fridge and you told him off for good, something shifted.

The next day, Selene had dragged you into the office. Her face had been like stone then, too. "I don’t want homewrecking whores working in my establishment," she’d said with icy finality.

What she really meant was: she didn’t believe you. Or worse—she didn’t care. Maybe it was easier to believe the lie. Or maybe she just wanted to believe it.

You stood there, frozen in the aftermath of her cruel dismissal, her spit glistening on the dingy tile between your shoes. You looked up at her face again, at the loathing in her eyes. Then, slowly, you turned. You walked out into the street, back into the noise and smog and blinking signs of the N109 Zone. You didn’t cry. You wanted to. But your body refused. It was all too familiar.

Still, it burned. God, it burned. Your chest felt hollow, like your ribs had been scooped out with something dull.

Maybe you were right to think the world didn’t want you. Maybe it never had.

You leaned against the nearest rusted street sign, your body trembling as you slid slowly to the ground. The chill of the metal against your back did nothing to numb the ache blooming in your chest. You shut your eyes tightly, as if that alone could block out the weight of the world pressing down on you. But it didn’t. It only made it heavier, louder, more suffocating. The world kept spinning, indifferent to the pieces of you crumbling inside.

What was the point?

What were you even fighting for anymore? Scrambling through humiliation after humiliation just to end up here—alone, jobless, and shattered. You had clawed your way through fear, through power games and manipulation, just to be spit back out like you were worthless. You gave your trust, your time, your body. And what had you received in return? Used. Spat at. Toyed with like you were nothing more than a means to an end, a passing amusement in someone else’s story.

Sylus. Lira. Robert. Scott. Selene. Your parents.

Every name carved a new wound in your soul. Each face, a cruel reminder of how far you'd fallen. Of how no matter how hard you tried to climb, someone was always waiting to push you back down. You weren’t even sure who you were anymore—just a hollow thing shaped by what others wanted from you.

You remembered that alley. The one you had barely escaped from. How cold the concrete felt beneath you as the men laughed and circled. The gleam of a blade, the reek of sweat and breath and malice. The feel of his knife cutting through your clothes. You remembered the certainty in your heart then—that this was it. The end. But somehow, you had survived. Sylus had saved you. And now, for what?

To be broken again. To crawl your way back to something that felt safe, only to be reminded it never truly was.

Maybe the universe had made a mistake.

Maybe it was punishing you for slipping through its fingers. For surviving when you weren’t supposed to. The shame of existing when everything in your life screamed that you shouldn’t be here anymore was unbearable. A curse stitched into the seams of your skin. Every breath you took felt like defiance in a world that never wanted you.

And in that moment, it became so clear: maybe it was time to stop running from it. Maybe you should just give the universe what it had always wanted from you—your soul.

Maybe then, if you died, everything would finally stop hurting.

A few days had passed in a haze of indecision and quiet desperation. You kept to yourself, spending your time among the stray cats that lingered near your building, trying to find solace in their warm, soft bodies. They were the only living things that didn’t expect anything from you, didn’t lie or manipulate. Just existed. And that made them easier to be around.

But no matter how long you sat with them, no matter how many times you ran your fingers through their fur or watched their ears flick toward distant sounds, nothing changed your mind. There was a stillness inside you now—a resignation that had settled like dust in your bones. Nothing was getting better. Nothing was going to change. The world had made that perfectly clear.

With trembling limbs and tears already welling in your eyes, you dragged yourself down cracked sidewalks to the nearest corner store. Each step felt heavier than the last, your chest tight with emotion you couldn't name, not really. Grief? Rage? Exhaustion? Maybe all of it, tangled together like barbed wire.

The dingy fluorescent lights flickered overhead as you pushed open the door. The little bell above it chimed out a tinny, emotionless note. Inside, the store smelled of stale air and old linoleum. The girl at the counter barely spared you a glance, her eyes glued to a magazine she clearly wasn't reading. "Welcome," she muttered in a flat, lifeless tone.

You didn’t respond.

You wandered toward the shelves, eyes glazed over, unsure where to begin. Your fingers hovered over the rows of alcohol bottles lining the back wall. You had never drunk before—never seen the appeal. But today wasn’t about appeal. Today was about escape. Forgetting. Quieting the noise that had grown too loud inside your head and ridding yourself of this world forever.

Labels blurred in your vision, your tears now threatening to spill. You had no idea what you were even looking at—brown bottles, clear bottles, red and gold labels promising warmth or fire or numbness. It all looked foreign.

You just stood there, frozen in front of shelves lined with vices, trying to find the courage to pick one. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, something inside one of those bottles could dull the ache that had taken root in your soul.

You jumped as someone suddenly appeared next to you, the unexpected presence snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. A child? No older than ten or eleven, with messy hair and dark circles under his eyes. He wore a torn hoodie, oversized sneakers, and had the street-hardened expression of someone who'd grown up too fast. He barely acknowledged you, just glanced up, rolled his eyes like you were in his way, and reached down to grab a bottle of cheap whiskey from a lower shelf—clearly one he was familiar with.

Anyone else might’ve reacted with shock, disbelief even. But in the N109 Zone, this was routine. Children strolled into liquor stores like it was a corner market, picking up cigarettes or alcohol on behalf of their parents—or for themselves. There were no laws here, no enforcement. Just survival, any way you could manage it. If you could pay for it, you could drink. You watched the kid shuffle off, bottle in hand, without a word or glance back.

You sighed, feeling a fresh wave of exhaustion settle in your chest. The sharp fluorescent lights overhead made everything feel sterile and unreal. Your fingers traced along the glass necks of the bottles until you found one with the highest alcohol content you could find. You didn’t know if it would even taste good, and frankly, you didn’t care. You just needed it to work.

Gripping it tightly, you clutched it to your chest like a lifeline and made your way toward the register, your footsteps slow and heavy, like you were wading through water. The dull thud of your shoes on the floor echoed in your ears, matching the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You don't know why, but you end up turning around and buying out the whole shelf of that alcohol. Maybe it was the pressure building in your chest or the numbness crawling in behind it, but something compelled you to do it. It’s not like it mattered, right? You had the money—at least, for now. And who was going to stop you?

No one cares about you.

The girl at the counter looked at you with an almost pitying sort of confusion, like she could instantly tell this was your first time. Her eyes lingered on your face, maybe trying to gauge whether she should say something. But she didn’t. Instead, she sighed, scanned each bottle slowly, and finally rung you up with an almost mechanical "Have a good night."

You barely responded. Wobbling slightly under the weight, you wrapped your arms awkwardly around the box they gave you—seven heavy glass bottles clinking together inside like a cruel lullaby. Every step outside felt like a challenge, your arms aching, the corners of the box digging into your palms. The wind blew through your jacket, biting at your skin, but it didn’t feel like anything. Just one more discomfort to ignore.

You eventually make it home, the door creaking open louder than usual in the silence. You kick it shut behind you and make your way to the kitchen table, where you carefully lay out each bottle one by one. The labels blur slightly as you stare down at them. An army of glass and liquid. Your fingers twitch over one of the caps, but you don’t open it. Not yet. For now, you just stand there in the dim glow of your apartment, staring at the lineup like you’re trying to convince yourself that one of them might offer something close to peace.

You struggled to open the first one, your fingers fumbling with the cap as your nerves and frustration worked against you. The seal resisted at first, stubborn and tight, but eventually you managed to wring it open with a strained twist and a sharp click. The scent hit you immediately—a sharp, punishing wave of bitter herbs and alcohol so strong it nearly made your eyes water. You instinctively gagged, recoiling slightly as the pungent aroma clawed at your nostrils.

"What the hell is this?" you muttered, coughing into your sleeve. You turned the label over, squinting to make sense of the small print. Absinthe. 47 percent alcohol level. Your stomach twisted. Surely this would aid in your journey to drink yourself to death.

With a shaky breath, you tried to steel yourself, pinching your nose and lifting the bottle to your lips. You took a deep swig straight from the neck, forcing the liquid down, without pause. Instantly, your throat ignited with a fire so fierce it felt like swallowing acid. You doubled over, sputtering and choking as the bitterness coated your tongue.

"Ah! Aghck!" you coughed, the liquid spraying from your mouth and soaking your shirt in a streak of cold, sharp-smelling alcohol. Your eyes watered, chest heaving as you gasped for breath. It tasted like cleaning supplies and punishment. 

You stood there trembling, staring at the bottle in your hand, wondering how people made a habit out of this. Surely there were better ways to forget your problems? But still, you held onto it. You weren’t done yet.

You hated living more than you hated the taste and the burn—and that was saying something. So you used that hatred. You clenched your teeth, ignored the fire clawing down your throat, and forced yourself to finish your first real swig of the absinthe. It was vile, bitter beyond belief, but you swallowed it down like a punishment you’d earned.

You stood there, blinking, surprised at how little you felt in the moment. No dizziness. No numbness. Just the horrific aftertaste coating your mouth like burnt herbs and regret. You scoffed bitterly. So this was it? So much pain for so little payoff? Maybe you just needed more.

So you did. You drank more. You searched the cabinets until you found an old, dusty cup—maybe from a diner or just a mismatched glass. You didn’t care. You poured a generous amount of the green liquid in and downed it. Then another. And another.

At first, you felt fine. Still in control. Still upright. The room was solid, your breathing calm. Then your heart started to race. The thumping in your chest accelerated like you’d just been sprinting down the block. Your limbs began to feel heavy, like you were sinking into the floor. The edges of your vision softened, blurring the lines of your kitchen into a swirl of murky colors.

You reached for the counter to steady yourself, missed, and nearly toppled over. The world tilted violently. Your knees buckled, and you crumpled to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. Everything spun, the ceiling melting into the walls, the walls into the floor. Your body felt too far away, your thoughts slurring, slipping through your fingers.

And then—just black.

You awoke a bit later, blinking slowly, the world swimming in and out of focus. Your body felt like lead, limbs sluggish and unresponsive as you struggled to sit up from the cold, hard floor. Every joint ached, your head pulsed, and your mouth was dry like sandpaper. Groaning, you glanced to your side and saw the bottle you’d been drinking from. It wasn’t even halfway empty.

And yet, you felt like you were dying.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a warning bell, loud and erratic. You could feel your pulse thrumming at your temples, your wrists, your neck—too fast, too hard. Panic bloomed in your chest as a sickening heat flushed through your body. A sharp, twisting pain coiled in your stomach like a hot wire tightening and writhing beneath your skin.

You cried out, a strangled sound torn from your throat as your body convulsed with the pain. Your vision blurred as you clutched at your abdomen, crawling across the floor in a desperate, pitiful attempt to get to the door. Each movement was agony. You were drenched in sweat, your shirt clinging to you like a second skin.

You reached the doorframe, collapsing just short of the knob. You could barely lift your hand. Your fingers twitched against the floor, nails scraping wood. "H-hhwalp..." you croaked, voice barely more than a whisper, the word distorted by pain and tears.

You were so stupid. So reckless. You didn’t want to die like this.

But the world was fading fast around you.

You reached again, weakly, for the doorknob—your last hope flickering like a dying flame.

By some miracle, you manage to swing the door open, your trembling fingers finally gripping the knob and wrenching it sideways. The door creaks open with a groan, and you lurch forward, barely staying upright as you stagger outside into the hazy, grimy air of the corridor. Each breath is sharp, like inhaling fire and rust. "H-halp..." you whimper, your voice thin and fractured, the edges of your vision clouding into black. The world spins around you like a broken carousel, lights smearing across your vision like spilled paint.

You don’t last long on your feet. Your knees buckle and you collapse hard onto the rough concrete, the impact jarring every bone in your already aching body. The ground feels colder than you expect, like it wants to swallow you whole. Your head pulses violently, each beat hammering against your skull as if your brain is trying to escape. You cry out again, the pain overwhelming and unrelenting. Your body shakes uncontrollably. But then, through the chaos and haze, you feel a warm hand on your shoulder.

"Well well, what do we have here? Can’t hold your liquor, huh?" a man’s voice jeers, laced with sharp amusement.

You look up, eyes swimming with tears and disorientation. The world is a blur of shadows and streaked lights, but even through your muddled senses, you recognize the face looming over you.

Robert.

You don’t care who it is anymore. You just want help. You want the pain to stop. You want a hospital, a doctor, anyone with clean hands and sterile tools who can reverse whatever hell you’ve poured into yourself. Your mouth barely forms the words.

"Rober...help me..." you slur, your head lolling to the side as you try and fail to sit up. Your limbs are bricks. Your thoughts, fog.

Robert chuckles, the sound low, greasy, and self-satisfied. He clearly finds amusement in your collapse. "Oh, no worries, doll. I’ll help you," he says smoothly, but there’s something behind his voice that sends a fresh wave of dread through your sluggish mind.

You barely have time to register the shift in gravity before Robert scoops you up into his arms. The movement is clumsy, jarring, and you feel every tremble in your muscles react in protest. The world lurches violently around you, your stomach flipping with the sudden upheaval, nausea cresting at the back of your throat. Then it hits you—his smell.

It's nothing like Sylus. There’s no warm cologne or expensive leather—just the sour stench of sweat, cheap cigar smoke, and the faint metallic tang of alcohol-soaked clothes. It’s repulsive. It settles into your nose like oil in water, impossible to ignore, and so intimately invasive it makes your stomach tighten even more.

A deep-rooted fear creeps up your spine. Something about being in his arms, against that reeking shirt, sends every alarm in your body ringing. You want to scream, to fight, to claw your way out. But your body no longer responds. Your limbs go slack. Your heart races in futile protest. The dread is overwhelming, but there's no time to register it.

Your eyes flutter once, twice. A weak yelp escapes your lips before your vision blurs to nothing and the world collapses into blackness again.

[heretovibe25]

Duty calls… or does it?

Silco x f!reader

The door to his office shut quickly behind you, your entrance punctuated with the click of his lock. His head, resting on one hand as the other furiously signed whatever paperwork laid before him, tilted upwards, gracing you with his beautiful eyes. While his face held annoyance in all features, his expression softened as he saw that it was you intruding on his solitude. But with you it was never an intrusion, in fact it was a most welcomed distraction. As you make your way over towards the desk that keeps him away from you on days like this you make sure to sway your hips just a little extra - the price he must pay for ignoring you in favor of paperwork, necessary or not.

“Are you in the habit of letting just anyone into your office unannounced?” You tease, pulling his grand chair out just a bit and settling into his lap. As your head finds its home in the crook of his neck you remind yourself this is supposed to be a punishment, something you’re having a hard time holding conviction for. Despite the charged energy in the office, filled with tension from days of being pent up and away from each other’s embrace, you felt the sigh of relief from his chest as you made yourself right at home. Home. A funny notion, one that used to belong to whatever building you resided in, now the title solely belongs to Silco.

“Now, my love, when did you become ‘just anyone’?” He chuckles, a deep lovely sound - one you wish you heard more of.

“You’re right, I do believe I left that title behind the first time you had me all spread open on this desk right here” You lean back, putting extra pressure on where your lap meets his, spreading your arms across the desk as you grin. Fond memories of the first time you’d pushed him far enough to take you right here on the very desk that holds him hostage too often.

His grip tightens on your warm thighs as his blue eye darkens. “Wrong my love. You-” he punctuates this with a soft kiss pressed to your throat. “-were never ‘just anyone’”.

The way his voice dropped, and eyes fogged over with the dangerous combination of love and lust caused you to lose all conviction you had.You’d come in planning on drawing this out, seeing if you could make him beg for it, a little punishment for depriving both of you of each others touches the last few nights - but here you were, closer to beginning than he was.

You lunged forward in a desperate attempt to connect your lips with his, only for his hand, which had somehow found its way into your hair in the time it took for you to sit up, to tighten it’s grip keeping you in place and causing a whimper of pleasure and pain to leave your lips. He used this angle to his advantage, moving to decorate your neck with deep purple marks. Reminding you, that even when he doesn’t have the luxury of spending every second with you the way you both desire, that you are his.

“I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I darling?” You nod quickly, desperate to show him how badly you want - no, need him.

“I’ve missed you Silco” Your voice quiet, somehow this admittance is more intimate than a quick fuck. His expression softened further, leaning to kiss you he removes his hand from your hair and uses it to cup your cheek lovingly. Holding you against him as you take your time exploring each other's mouths like it was your first kiss. His thumb strokes your cheek in a silent apology.

Too quickly for either of your liking, he pulls away. Your eyes drop, not wanting him to see the sadness and longing behind them - you knew how important the work he was doing is and that if he could be with you right now he would. But alas, duty calls.

You slink off his lap, but before your feet touch the group his mouth is next to your ear. “I want you in bed, waiting for me. I’ll be there soon and then I can show you just how sorry I am, love.” You turn to meet his eyes, the slight tears that were threatening to spill at the earlier rejection now are ones of joy. You get Silco back, even if it’s for the night you get to hold him and be held, which is all you’ve ever wanted since you met the industrialist. You nod agreeably and before he can pull back and compose himself, it’s your turn to whisper in his ear.

“Yes sir”

[abyssalzones]

can you tell us about your interpretation of the better world universe!!!! especially curious how stan/mystery trio works into it

hell yesssss I definitely can. ABW is maybe my favorite niche gf thing and probably the only "AU" I care about but that may be due to the fact that it's an AU that exists in the canon and we know so little about it. so it has an established foundation that you're left to fill in the details with yourself... it's like a poke bowl to me. you can put anything in there

and since I felt like it here's a bonus pic of them living their best lives pestering ford

[explanation-y stuff under ze cut because I got very longwinded]

as for specifics of how I see everything working out, there's a few key points that establish why things happened differently from canon, the most important being:

Stan agrees to hide journal #3 somewhere

Ford reunites with fiddleford and they begin working together again

both of these are already confirmed in canon, the first being the most obvious "schism" between timelines. literally everything in ABW is the way it is because stan made a different decision. kind of crazy in terms of its implications: I feel like that moment in the basement is a really good example of how stan gets so few opportunities to shape her own life (while ford is in the picture...) because of her role as the 'black sheep' twin. it's not exactly a premeditated decision to push ford into the portal, it's her acting on feelings that have been bubbling unaddressed under the surface for 10-something years at that point, and only then does she have any sort of power over the "narrative" of both her life and the story itself, something that from her pov has been ford's story. and in the canon timeline, she says no.

so like, what the hell made her say yes in ABW's timeline? this question kind of haunts me because I feel like it has to be entirely dependent on what the inside of stan's head looked like at the time. it's possible something influenced her, but overall I think it's more interesting if ford did and said all the exact same things up until this point and it really was entirely dependent on stan's decision internally.

so stan says yes, goes on a big trip to the other side of the world somehow, and buries journal 3 somewhere probably never to be found again. yay! but, uh, going on a trip like ford was suggesting would... take weeks. that would leave ford alone again. and not to have my established thoughts informed by new material or anything but bill did give him 72 hours.

so, next order of business: how in the fuck would ford convince fiddleford to rejoin him??? I'm unsure between journal 3 and tbob's information how ford may have tried to reach out to him but it seems like fiddleford was pretty adamant about staying away from that guy, out of guilt or fear of bill/the portal or both. I don't think logically it would just be a matter of ford calling him enough times or finding out where he lives- and I think that's kind of getting away from the point of why ABW is the way it is too. if stan is suddenly making decisions that are influencing ford's life, I think it would be similarly interesting if fiddleford also possessed some unique autonomy in this scenario.

aka I think ford got fucked up badly (possibly involving losing an eye) and fiddleford found him half-dead while trying to burn his house down. [mabel voice] romance!

to clarify: I don't think fiddleford is obligated to take care of ford. a major part of him leaving the project was finally making the decision to leave a situation that was hurting him, that he'd been staying in entirely because he still cared about ford and felt on some level he could still help him (which gets broken with "I don't need you!") and I think that's a very reasonable decision on his part. but I also do have to think about all the times ford has been "the hero" in situations where fiddleford ends up hurt and helpless because of something traumatizing. I think it'd be fascinating to see that reversed and have fiddleford actively making the difficult, messy decision to take care of that guy even when they're on miserable terms. and so begins like a solid week of these two desperately trying to look out for eachother in a nightmare scenario where one of them probably needs to go to a hospital + keeps getting possessed off and on and the other is going through the worst addiction/withdrawal cycle of his life irt the memory gun. yay! (part of the reason this even works To Me also is heavily informed by the lack of secrets: if fiddleford is actively dressing that guy's wounds he can't really keep it all to himself anymore. crushingly intimate perhaps...)

stan gets back eventually. such is the context of this pic

from there it's a nebulous grab-bag of things I think could happen up to the foundation of the institute.

how do all three of these incredibly fucked up individuals get along? well they don't but then they do.

how do they get bill out of ford's head without performing amateur brain surgery? idk. my best guess is a fiddleford and stan bonding trip into ford's mindscape that potentially helps answer the first question. possibly utilizing the memory gun. shrugs.

what's up with that one picture you drew of parallel fidds holding the memory gun up to ford's head? well. okay that one might or might not be something that actually happened but the idea was just that ford is coping badly with a few specific things and I liked the idea of fiddleford "holding onto" something for him to remember and work through later when he's ready to deal with it, it's an interesting reversal of how he's normally more of a memory sink.

from the point in canon about them stabilizing the portal so that bill can't use it to get into their dimension anymore onward, I think it just becomes a matter of them living the lives they could've always had in canon without realizing it. hence "a better world." some cool tidbits I like to think about:

stan gets to transition much earlier (late 1990's perhaps?) and probably starts going by "lee" instead

she's also the institute's CMO and is mostly in it for going on business trips abroad with ford. and the money. obviously.

the institute probably also legitimately changes the world on a sociopolitical scale outside of just interdimensional travel since their research renders them uniquely untouchable and all three of them are trans (I'm cartoon logic-ing a little bit here just let me have this one)

ford is the eccentric bill nye esque face of the company, fiddleford is the backbone. that isn't to say ford doesn't do anything as I think he'd always moreso be in it for the science than the fame (though it is nice to be more than comfortable financially) but it's an open secret fiddleford keeps tabs on literally everything, he's still very security-oriented.

the northwest family now has a more prominent ongoing rivalry with the pines family that could be very funny to think about. they've taken all the LOGGING JOBS with their damn SCIENCE

part of the reason I thought ford should lose an eye is because I think having him wear an eyepatch would be a neat way to parallel stan's "role" as mr. mystery visually! stan wears an eyepatch for no legitimate reason to keep up appearances as a schlocky tourist trap host, but it also alludes to her being more than she seems under the surface. ford's eyepatch does sort of have a legitimate reason to exist, but he also could just wear his glass eye and it would probably be less "conspicuous." he chooses the eyepatch instead because it's part of his image as Stanford Pines, Founder of Oddology, and because it keeps him safe. there's also a little residual scarring there from damage to his eyelid/tarsal plate which could easily represent him hiding the more "damaged" aspects of himself under his successes. ouch.

I'm unsure if ford and stan would ever feel comfortable getting back in touch with their parents. I know a lot of people go that route with fan material but I don't think they should have to. I think they're much happier now having healed the rift between them on their own and getting to live successful lives for themselves, rather than to prove something to their father.

that being said I do think fiddleford gets in touch with emma-may and his son again and they end up on better terms with time and a Lot of effort. tate's family is now composed of his father, mother, "uncle" ford (in the ye olde gay closeted sense of referring to your dad's partner as an uncle), and auntie lee, and I like to think they go out on trips to the lake together often :]

also ford and fiddleford tie the knot unofficially (in the eyes of the government anyway) in 1990. owed to stan somehow getting "ordained" as a rabbi. don't ask me how.

the pines twins start visiting the institute from a younger age than they do irt visiting stan in the show-- but they're only permitted to come along on heavily-supervised interdimensional excursions once they turn 12. cue antics!

anyway, hopefully this extremely longwinded and loosely structured mess helped answer your question. I like ABW sooo so so much you guys

[redrumrose]

Can I marry your OC Pavel platonic? Mad scientists is great! 👍

Hahha!! I'll give him the news:

In non-canon, marriage to this guy would be full of cats, tea, and medical malpractice for sure xDD (In canon though, he's probably not much the marrying type ^^;)

[reysdriver]

Cruel Summer | E.M.

Eddie does his very best to help you through the current heatwave — eddie x pregnant!reader fluff

warnings: pregnancy, a little angst if you squint

words: 1.6k

Boiling. 

That was the only way your trailer could be described right now. It was one of Indiana’s hottest summers on record, and it didn’t help that you were six months pregnant and living in an aluminum box. 

You owned three electric fans, and they were all on full blast and aimed at the couch, but they really weren’t making as much of a difference as you needed.

There was a series of thuds coming from something or other outside the thin walls of your trailer, so you assumed your husband was home. And you were proven right when he entered, immediately apologising for leaving you alone in this heat. 

He had no reason to be sorry. Eddie has been so attentive and helpful through this pregnancy, showing you exactly why you fell in love with him everyday, and he was even proving it now. 

Since he just came back from a quick run to the store for some ice, fruit, and frozen treats, he set everything he bought on the recliner before crouching down next to you. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and started lightly stroking some of your hair. 

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asked. 

You gave him a side eye, too exhausted to even lift your head. “Take a guess, Teddy.”

He smiled slightly. If it was at the use of your favourite nickname for him or your exasperated joke, you weren’t quite sure. 

“I know that, sweetheart, and I’m sorry. Hopefully I can help a little.”

“Thank you. Did they have black cherry ice cream?”

He hummed out a quiet ‘mhm’ then stood up with a stifled groan. “But it might have melted a bit on the way back. I’ll put it in the freezer and we can have it soon.” 

“What about oranges?”

That was your latest craving. The ice cream and popsicles were luxuries to get you through the heat; the oranges were necessities. You were thankful that your cravings switched from tomato soup to citrus just in time for the heatwave, or you weren’t sure how you would get through it at all. 

Eddie made his way back over to the living room and picked up a paper bag from the recliner. 

“Big bag of ‘em, just for you.”

Hoping to dive right into the bag of fruits, you attempted to sit up, but the baby bump paired with the immense summer heat rendered the process slow and tiring. 

Eddie watched as you moved sluggishly, pitying how this heatwave was taking an extra hefty toll on you. 

“Don’t push yourself.” He advised gently while holding out his hand for you. “I’ll help you with whatever, even if it’s just getting up.”

You thanked him, then grabbed a cutting board and paring knife so you could slice the oranges how you like. 

“You know,” Eddie spoke again. “I was thinking that we could stay at someone else’s place for a bit. Just to get through the heat, you know? I’m sure everyone we know would be more than happy to have us over.”

You started shaking your head before Eddie even finished the proposition. He and you both knew what your answer would be, but Eddie figured there was no harm in asking. 

He really just wanted the best for you. He wanted you to be safe and comfortable, and although that obviously was something you wanted too, you just couldn’t accept his offer. 

“Eddie, I know you just want me to be happy, but I promise you I’m happiest here, at home, with you.”

He sighs, torn between wanting to get you out of this sauna of a trailer and letting you decide what’s best for yourself. In the end, he had to go with your choice, even if it meant suffering; both of you suffering together wasn’t the worst thing ever, he supposed. 

“Alright. Want me to at least draw you a bath?”

“Will you feed me orange slices and ice cream while I’m in the bath?” With wide eyes, you flashed him a hopeful smile. 

He rolled his eyes jokingly, then smiled sincerely back at you. “Of course, anything you want.”

You let out a happy giggle, then took the ice cream out of the freezer almost as quickly as it got there. 

He kissed you on the forehead before heading off to the small bathroom. 

You heard the sound of running water, then your husband’s voice. “Make sure to scoop enough so I can have some too!”

You happily obliged and doled out an extra scoop into the bowl. Then you plucked one ripe cherry from the bag in your fridge and placed it atop the dessert. That was Eddie’s favourite, and if he was being so nice to you, then you would return the favour. 

You took the time to clean the kitchen up, then brought both the ice cream and the orange slices to the bathroom to see Eddie sitting by the tub and turning off the water. 

“It’s a little bit cooler than usual.” He warned. “I just didn’t want the water to be too hot when the whole place is already hot and you’re—”

You cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips, then another on the corner of his mouth. 

“Thank you, baby. Now hold these while I get undressed. And then turn around.”

“I don’t get to watch?” Your husband asked, baring one of the most betrayed looks you’ve ever seen.

You shook your head. “I promise, you don’t want to see me struggling to get my clothes off because they’re drenched in sweat and I’m about to enter my third trimester. I mean it, don’t look. I don’t want you losing all attraction to me.”

Your husband sighed dramatically, then obeyed and turned slowly to face the other way.

It only took a bit of effort, but you took off your dress and placed it on the towel rack beside you. Then came a wolf whistle from right behind you. After turning around, you noticed that Eddie could totally see you in the bathroom mirror. 

“Pervert.” You mock accused. “Does me being all gross and pregnant really turn you on?”

“Everything about you turns me on.”

And he meant that. Not an ounce of insincerity in that promise. 

You faked a gag and then smiled just because you couldn’t help it. Holding out a hand, you asked if he could help you into the tub and he obviously did so after putting your food down on the counter. 

“How’s the water?” He asked. “I can add some hot or cold water if the temperature is off.”

“It’s amazing, handsome. Perfect temperature for some orange slices.”

Eddie chose the slice that was calling to him the most and held it for you to bite. Some of the juices missed your lips and dropped into the bathwater, but you paid that no mind. 

You were thankful that your husband bought a whole bag of these, because you had a feeling your diet over the next few days would be mainly oranges. 

After a few more slices, you decided you now wanted some of the black cherry ice cream that you had also been craving recently. 

As Eddie held the spoon up close to your lips, he noted that this was similar to feeding a baby—something you would be experiencing soon enough. 

“I don’t know about that.” You said. “I think a baby would be a lot more difficult to feed than me.”

Eddie cringed exaggeratedly and shrugged, telling you he doesn’t know about that either. 

Maybe proving his point, you splashed about a cup’s worth of water at his chest, taking care in your aim to make sure none of it got in your ice cream. He ‘retaliated’ by doing the same to you, though the water didn’t affect you when you were already in a whole tub of it. 

“Do you want to join me?” You proposed, gesturing vaguely to the tub so small that you had to cram just to sit alone in. 

“I don’t think this thing can fit both of us, baby. You enjoy it now, and a big tub will be on the top of our list when we buy a new house.”

“It’ll take a while.” You told Eddie. “A lot of our savings are gonna go to the baby, and who knows when we’ll be able to leave the trailer park.”

“Don’t say that. We’ve been working hard and saving. We’ll get there soon.” Eddie assured you. “And even if we can only afford a place without a big tub, I’ll live in the dark and eat nothing but salt and pepper for as long as it takes to get you one.”

You tried to hide your grin, but you knew you were failing at it. Maybe he didn’t think you believed him, so he kept going.

“I’m serious. We’re almost there.” Eddie looked down at your bump sticking out of the water. “Our baby is gonna have a good life”

“You’re so cheesy, Teddy.”

“I’m in love. Love makes you do cheesy things.”

“Like feeding me ice cream in the bathtub?” You asked, attempting to not put your true intentions on display. 

But Eddie understood, just like he always does. He picked up the spoon once more and scooped a heap just for you. 

“Like feeding you ice cream in the bathtub.” He nodded in agreement.

[inkpot909]

Your Relationship Trope (Bucciarati’s Gang)

↳ Gender Neutral Reader. Takes place after the events of Part 5 in a everyone lives!AU.

A/n: It’s been a while! I had to take some time for personal matters, so sorry for my absence. I wrote something just a tad more breezy to help ease myself back into it; I really missed writing. I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): None.

Giorno Giovanna

-> Love at First Sight

This deeply romantic, cheesy, guy.

Because of how much he prides himself on understanding, and by extension owning, his own thoughts and feelings- he could tell there was something drawing him to you the moment he met you. A gut feeling that he’d really care to know you better; one that he knows better than to ignore.

Good luck trying to hide anything from him yourself, either. He is as good at reading others as he is himself.

Therefore, if you felt immediately drawn to him as well, he’s going to notice. You might not say anything outright or maybe try to bury it deep down… but either way, he can tell.

Not that he minds your affections, of course. Giorno gets into this cheeky habit of dangling the concept of a potential relationship above your head. Just out of reach.

Yes, it’s in part because he wants to tease you. Seeing you grow flustered at his unapologetically forward flirtations… it never gets old.

But Giorno is also a very busy individual.

It’s difficult for him to plan meetups with you, being gone for days on end at times. Even up and leaving at the drop of a hat if the need arises. He takes his position seriously, and has been a rather involved Don since day one.

And Giorno is a sucker for the details, so he won’t make the final push to become official unless it’s the perfect moment.

Luckily for you, he’s a patient guy.

And as mentioned, he can read you like an open book. He knows you’re not looking at other men or women. Keenly aware you’re waiting for him to make some grand gesture.

Some guilt inevitably spawns whenever he gets extra busy, but your happiness at getting to see him again quickly puts those worries to rest for the time being.

All that in due time… after all, if it’s really true love, he is in no desire to rush.

That being said, the people in his inner circle would absolutely like him to rush. Who knows about his feelings for you? Everyone.

That’s not hyperbole, he’s fairly certain everyone around him can tell.

He will never shut up about you. In damn near any situation where it may be appropriate. Not in any situation that it would potentially reach your ears.

Mista himself has commented that he doesn’t know which he would prefer: Giorno before a relationship with you or during. Either way he’s ‘dealing with a lovesick fool.’

Giorno doesn’t care much, already knowing it’s something his closest friends ought to get used to. Confident in himself and what he picks up on.

After all, your smile says what his mind is already thinking.

Bruno Bucciarati

-> Reunited Childhood Friends

Bruno Bucciarati is a man that has stuck with the same haircut and pattern of clothing since he was twelve years old.

Of course he’s still not over you by the time of the inevitable reunion. Like Giorno, he’s definitely a ‘one love’ sort of man.

Getting contacted by you felt like a dream… but it also brought forth initial hesitation.

Due to the specific turn his life took, he had to leave a lot of things behind. Some more regrettable than others… and you were one of his biggest regrets for a long time.

Regardless, his heart won that day- as he agreed to meeting up with you faster than he would care to admit.

The excitement and build up to it after a date was set is a beast in of itself. The prospect of finally seeing you again after all these years fills his chest with a warmth he’s only ever associated with you.

His mind whirls, all his thoughts leading back to the hope that he’ll get to know the person you have matured into.

Your career, hobbies, how your family is doing, the path you’ve been walking down ever since he’d left its course far too long ago… and him praying there’s a distinct lack of a ring on your left hand.

Bruno’s glad to say that his hopes were well-placed. Upon seeing you again, you proved to be just as eager to know how he’s been doing all this time.

Your questions leave him feeling bittersweet; something he knew would happen.

How could he even begin to explain himself? Would he even want to? You deserve more than a short explanation or a lie. But he cannot and will not bring you into gang affairs either. And if he was honest…. where would he even begin?

“I committed murder to protect my father when I was twelve and ended up entangled in gang affairs. Sorry for not giving you a phone call.”

… it needs work, to put it lightly.

He’s not the type to succumb to fear but… it’s difficult not to stress over what you would think of him if he’s completely honest with you. It’s a testament to how deeply special you are to him; hardly ever getting this mentally worked up over anything outside his beloved team.

The push and pull of wanting to be honest with you- yet not wanting to risk putting a target on your back.

Whether it’s due to the years of separation or just the undeserved kindness you offer him, at some point, you admit to only thinking of those old days fondly.

Regardless of being quite startled with his sudden absence in your life, you couldn’t hold it against him. You knew of his parents divorce, and the last thing you had heard, was that Bruno’s father was in the hospital.

At first, he’s just resigns himself into being grateful you had it within yourself to forgive him.

But how can he hope to ignore… how lovely of a person you have grown up to be- inside and out. In the long run, it just doesn’t happen. His feelings truly snowballing for the first time in years.

Suddenly, he feels like a foolish child again. Only now, he must be doing something right because you could cause traffic to stop with the way you start to look at him.

There’s a warm nostalgia to you. Someone who knows him; truly knows him. Outside of his work and the contradictions he over for it for years.

And it gets to a point where Bruno resolves he must tell you how he feels. And by then, he won’t dally.

You’re back in his life again, and he’s sure as hell not leaving. Especially not without expressing his feelings.

Only took him short of nine years.

Leone Abbacchio

-> ‘We’re Just Coworkers’

He doesn’t necessarily meet people outside Passione, not one to go out of his way to seek companionship.

He has the team. He has Bucciarati. There isn’t much he wants, or feels like he can, ask for.

It’s because of this that you both are most likely to meet through the organization.

And there’s no doubt that Abbacchio is… apathetic to your position in the gang at first.

Now, he’s not as harsh on you as he was comparatively to Giorno. You’re not a fifteen year old with a savior complex and a tendency to act with a sort of righteous grandeur.

So, in short, you’re already doing great as far as he’s concerned.

Not that he warms up to you quickly; quite the opposite. Weeks will pass before he starts to slowly accept and involve you in any meaningful capacity. A guy like him just needs time to get used to someone so new to him… lots and lots of time.

Once that need has been met, he figures you’re alright.

Not bad company- in or out of Passione business. Far favorable to other people around him, as far as he’s concerned. He finds that you’re much better to converse with than Mista or Fugo.

It’s in his nature to compare a little bit, so when he starts seeing you from a fairer perspective… that’s when a quiet appreciation forms.

Alas, his heart is not as immovable as he likes believing it to be.

Over time, the two of you start to metaphorically lean on one another.

It starts off professionally enough, relying on one another in the heat of battle. Then, it gets to a more personal level- quieter conversations maintained between the two of you beneath the usual noise of the others interacting just a foot or two away.

Still, you two only work together. It’s professional. Without question. At least, that’s the case if Abbacchio or you are asked about it directly.

But the others are oh-so-quick-to-point-out that him letting you crash on his bed during particularly exhausting nights is not exactly platonic behavior. Nor is just how sucked into conversations the two of you get, or how much time you spend one-on-one.

And Abbacchio is nothing if not the type to do the exact opposite of what everyone says.

He’s going to deny it for months. Hell, years if you let him.

Never mind the fact the two of you already act like a couple. Getting ‘mistaken’ as one when going out, regardless if it’s just the two of you or not. Each time, you’re both insistent that you’re merely work friends.

It would be ten times more frustrating if there wasn’t any truth to it that neither of you are prepared to admit to.

It takes a healthy amount of whack cartoonish logic for things to finally fall into place. Being locked in a small room for twenty minutes, or possibly an accidental kiss to the lips… that sort of thing.

Guido Mista

-> Coffee Shop Regular

Mista likes the simple things in life, no doubt.

There’s many ways that fact manifests. One example is that he often wanders around the city in order to check out local businesses. Diners, secondhand stores, and little coffee shops. He knows the area well, and likes sparking up conversations with the people he comes across.

And a cute worker at one of his favorite coffee shops? Makes his day even better, he’d figure.

He was already a regular at your place of employment long before you were hired. Meaning, when he saw a new face behind the counter, he had to offer a hello with a relaxed smile on his face.

And to his credit, it was incredibly easy to like him.

The type of customer who’s always in a decent mood, not too impatient, and always knowing what he wanted to order long before walking in.

Sprinkle in a pleasant ‘hello’ or a lighthearted joke every now and then, and he starts to notice your face brightening every time he enters the shop.

He won’t argue against the idea it fills him with something far deeper than pride.

Beyond finding you initially attractive, he considers you a good worker. He cannot imagine being a barista is always easy, but he’d care to point out that you make it look easy. You know his order by memory after a while, and conversation with you comes naturally.

And soon, the workplace barrier is finally shattered. Happening so casually it was practically thoughtless.

One day, Mista walked into the store just when you were sent on a break. He greeted you as always, and offered to sit with you while you decompressed with a cup of coffee of your own.

That’s when he’d say that something a bit more concrete formed. More real, past the relationship of worker and patron.

And he grows unapologetically forward by then too.

He’s not the type to hit on you at work, but certainly not above blatantly asking for your number after he felt it may be appropriate to do so.

He finds it to be a casual and natural progression, something that is in his nature to embrace.

Like Giorno, though, he’ll drag out the time before asking you out just in order to tease you. He doesn’t automatically figure out that you might be into him, but he’ll get the hint by the time you two start calling one another regularly.

He’s not easily affected by the others teasing him over you, either. He openly admits that he’s into you, why get embarrassed?

Now, if someone makes a comment about it in front of you, then he’ll get flustered. An emotion expressed through frustration and defensiveness.

Regardless of that, it’s such a relaxed progression that at some point he thinks meeting you may have been fate. There’s a ton of coffee shops all around Naples, yet you chose to work at one of the small handful he regularly likes visiting.

If his life is predetermined, like he believes it is, then he’s grateful fate is on his side.

Pannacotta Fugo

-> Friends to Lovers

This man looks at someone with a view on love like Giorno and scoffs with distain.

The notion of ‘love at first sight’ is one that is only entertained by foolish and idealistic individuals, according to Fugo. Rolling his eyes, a scoff escaping his lips… he thinks that mindset is ridiculous and is unafraid to express it.

Hell, romantic relationships aren’t even on his radar in general.

He doesn’t look down on or think negatively of anyone in one, of course. But it’s hardly ever on his mind. Focused on Passione and the team he is proud to be a part of.

And that doesn’t change one bit upon meeting you.

As usual, such a thing doesn’t cross his mind once. The prospect of a potential new ally and friend is the only one he cares to ponder, even if you start off on the right foot. He’s a little distant, but polite and fair enough to give you a chance.

Good thing he did to, as far as hindsight is concerned.

A funny individual and someone who hardly ever makes him want to flip a table? He’s glad to call you his friend once a foundation of trust is established.

If he thinks about it, he’d have to admit to himself there’s something very earnest and warm about the relationship.

You’re a good conversationalist, he respects your intelligence, and even silence around you is comfortable.

More than that, you’re reliable. Stress doesn’t come quite as easy whenever you’re around. And when it does, you understand him. You know just what to say and how to say it. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to express the same kindness.

He starts thinking of you when you’re not around, especially when he’s alone. Thinking of anything from a fond or humorous memory, or simply the curve of your smile.

Oh… oh no.

Tackling his own growing feelings is a lengthy process. He wasn’t interested in seeking out a partner, but he catches feelings before he even realizes it.

And figuring out your feelings on the matter? Forget it.

He won’t say a thing unless you make a move yourself, too wary to even admit he could realistically do something himself. A fact the others are quite keen on reminding him of.

His insecurity won’t last forever, though.

Being around you is such a joy that it’s hard to get trapped in his own mind in the moment. That smile on your face, and sentences leaving your lips in the familiar tones of your voice…

You are his friend first and foremost; someone he feels he can really talk to and trust.

And that’s why you turn out to be everything he didn’t know he’d ever hope for.

Narancia Ghirga

-> Will They, Won’t They?

Giorno is going to start making Narancia pay for his therapy appointments. Abbacchio once made a sarcastic remark about wanting to start drinking again because of this. Mista has given Narnacia approximately twenty three lectures over the subject. Fugo is pulling his hair out.

And really, who can blame any of them?

Having to watch you and Narancia interact on a regular basis is a frustrating experience- to put it lightly.

That feeling only heightened by the fact that it’s something no one feels as though they can even comment directly on whenever you and Narancia are both around. Simply swallowing any words bubbling to the surface.

All this to say, Narancia falls for you quickly and he falls hard.

At first, there wasn't a single complaint to be had from anyone on the team. On the contrary, the others took the time to hype him up with wide smiles and pats on his back.

Narancia himself is excited to be experiencing something as genuinely sweet and grounded as a crush, and that elation was contagious.

But then a couple weeks pass... then a month... then another month... then another....

If the others were a smidge more invasive, they would've just pushed you two in front of one another yelling 'to just get on with it already' months ago.

Specifically Fugo, who actively lets it get to him in a way that Narancia merely huffs at. Sometimes offering a noncommittal response if he feels it’s necessary.

It doesn't matter how much his former tutor gets on his case, Narancia’s not budging. A light blush present on his face when he insists for the hundredth time that there's no way you could possibly feel the same.

Your own friends go through a very similar situation on the other end of things.

Similarly with someone like Abbacchio, the two of you act like a couple far before anything is set in stone. Unlike him, it's less causal and downright mind-boggling to the people around you.

Your legs lazily draped over his lap, going on drives that last for hours at a time, one barely ever seen without the other, and talking about each other constantly.

The latter became so frequent that Giorno once had to pull Narancia aside and tell him to stop mentioning you at Passione meetings.

Narancia has to bit his lip just to stop himself, but he manages. Much to the Don’s relief- never wanting to have that kind of conversation with a friend again.

Giorno cannot and won't try to control him outside of work, though, so it was merely half the battle.

Not that Narancia particularly minds the others' reactions to it very much.

Months into his affections and he's gotten used to the constant stream of teasing. Besides, he lies to himself figures that maybe they're just jealous. He wouldn’t blame them if that’s the case, finding you as special as any person can be.

Regardless of what anyone says, the sweetness is there.

An amusement to be had over how truly clueless the both of you are, despite interacting with flushed faces and stuttering words. It’s sweet, then annoying to the point where it circles around to being funny.

But you and Narancia retreat into your own little world where all of that melts away. He’s loyal, and since you hold his heart, it would be an understatement to say you’re just important to him.

Who will give in and admit the crush first? It's up in the air.

[ghostinboys]

— joel miller loved that you were taking pictures during your trip to his hometown. it assured him that this wasn't boring for you and that you actually enjoyed the scenery and the tour of their family's farm. he was extra thrilled when you said you would want to stay for the night in his childhood home, no one really lived there anymore other than tommy (he had commitments in jacksonville, hence the vacancy).

— before bed he had started a fire on the hearth, sharing a finger of whiskey while playfully taking photos of him. "that camera's go'n break if you keep takin' pictures of me," his accent stronger by each shot. you said something about how pretty he was and how you couldn't stop it even if you wanted to. "well somebody's go'n have to take some of your pretty face, darlin'"

smut under the cut

— he takes the camera from you and takes a few shots, you timidly hide your face, laughing at how cute he was at trying to find 'the perfect shot'. maybe it was the whiskey, but the two of you found yourselves in each other's arms, lips locked, tongues laced in each others warmth, intoxicated by the coziness and the heat.

— "look at this pretty face," he murmured while taking pictures of your naked body, his mouth had done its work of leaving marks—showing whoever will see these images that he was the one responsible for marking you. "all f'me," he grunts as he enters you.

— you took pictures of him while straddling his thick thighs, tensed and hardened by a day's work, he smelled of alcohol and musk, his skin golden and his facial hair unkempt— he looked so beautiful.

— he took pride in pleasuring you, that despite his age he could still spend hours drawing out loud and obscene cries from your lips. "you take me so well, baby" his muscular arms flexing and while he held your waist, he took the camera and took pictures of you with closed eyes, moaning and whimpering from his cock. he took pictures of the his thick cock ceaselessly fucking your hole. "look how pretty your hole is takin' me, like it was fuckin' meant for my cock,"

— the old creaking of his wooden bed frame concludes with a shared grunt. the two of you in each other's arms covered in sweat, tears, and come. he takes the camera for the last time and points it on the both of you, "this way we ain't forgetting this perfect night," sharing one last languid kiss before the sun rises.

end.

a/n: apologies for the lack of updates :< I hope this blurb can suffice as a sorry hihi like / follow/ reblog please if you enjoyed ! also request if you want anything similar, thank you <3 tag list: @hellsburners @boypied

[noceurous]

a guide to dating in twenty first century

now you’re on a second date with him, you’re not on his lap but he is between your legs

warnings: implied age-gap, swearing, mention of abusive behavior (not by joel or reader), mention of bad childhoods and life struggles, some angst, nicknames (baby), fluff, smut; semi-public sex(ish), fingering (f receiving), oral (both receiving), hints of dom!joel, daddy kink, minors dni (18+), reader is able-bodied, afab, and has hair.

a/n: sorry this took so long, real-life is a chaos and sucks but thanks to Portugal pics i’m so writing the third chapter now!

[part i]

part ii: the in-between

Going to movies was definitely not on your top three for ideal dates. You usually went to the movie theater with your mom who shared your love for overpriced, extra salty, greasy popcorn and never chit chatted during the movie. Or you just went there alone, enjoying it by yourself and your popcorn.

“Would you like some popcorn?” Joel asked while you were making your way to the screening room.

You texted Joel after two days. You were worried you made him think you were pressured by him. Even though you reassured him a few times it wasn’t like that, he was a gentleman enough to think it was better to give you some space.

After getting your text, he had invited you to a movie he wanted to go to. Saying he had an extra ticket since his brother ditched on him.

“Yeah, it’d be nice.” He motioned for you to go inside, gently pressing his hand on the small of your back.

“You go in and I’ll go get them.”

“I can join—” He raised his hand, pointing through the door.

“I insist.”

Soon enough he came back holding a large bucket of popcorn, and two sodas. You noticed his hands were large enough to carry them without any trace of struggle.

And he had thick long fingers which gave you one of your best orgas—

“Thank you again.” You said as he gave you the bucket.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked as he sat down next to you. Eyes scanning you for a trace of discomfort.

“I’m on a nice fluffy seat, I've got my soda and popcorn. Also I’ve a handsome guy in my company. I don’t see any reason to complain.” You said as you threw one popcorn inside your mouth.

“If you are good with the ‘handsome’ company, then I’m good too.” He said as he took some of your popcorn.

“Are you kidding? It’s the best part.” You winked at him, earning a small chuckle.

He leant to kiss your cheek. You acted before him, your lips pressing his before they could reach your cheek.

The kiss was sweet, and soft. When he sat back you could see the pinkish hue his lips got thanks to your lip balm.

Before you made a comment about it, the lights were dimmed all the way down, meaning you had to focus on the screen, not the handsome company.

The movie was a guy’s movie; full of action and no message to give, just something to enjoy. Maybe you could watch it again with your dad. Whenever you wanted to spend quality time with him at his man cave.

You jumped when the guy blew up the car, some of the popcorn was shifted inside the bucket. He placed his hand on your thigh. It was more protective than suggestive. You knew it was more like a reflex and he had no intention but since you had the brightest idea of wearing your shortest dress it was not that innocent for you.

You could feel the goosebumps forming on your skin, and dampness on your underwear. It did not take you too long to remember your previous date, and how you ended up on his lap.

Just focus on the MOVIE.

His hand was placed in a reasonable spot, a few inches above your knee. Fingers lazily drawing circles on your skin. You glanced at him a few times but each time his eyes were locked on the screen. You knew that he was aware of your gaze. His touch on you got tighter at times, fingers moving higher, halfway to reach your dress just before the first part of the movie was over.

You looked down at your lap, precisely focusing on the casually wandering hand. Saved by a second to get caught. “So? Did you like the movie?”

“It was… entertaining.” You said as you slurped your soda, avoiding his gaze. “I enjoyed it when the guy decided to steal his stepfather’s car, who blamed him for his mother’s death.”

He raised his eyebrow, “You didn’t like it, did you?”

“Not on my top three, but not at the bottom three either. Maybe next time I can pick the movie?”

He smiled, his tongue clicking on his mouth. You knew he liked when you gave him a green light for a second date. “Next time, I’ll let you choose the movie.” He nodded, his hand squeezing your thigh. You subtly parted your thighs, letting his hand move.

When the lights got dimmed again you two were still looking each other, taking in each other for a few seconds before the second half started.

You could feels his gaze on you this time. His fingers were slower, tracing the outline of your inner thighs, moving closer to the hem of your skirt.

You breath hitched, thighs parted slightly, asking for more. You bit down on your lower lip. Breathing through the nose and watching some guy got beaten the hell out of.

Joel’s fingers brushed along the hem of your skirt, waiting there, asking for a sign of approval.

You spent each night to make yourself cum like he did but you did not get even close enough to finish it.

Your body took over the control; you snuggled next to him, raising your hips a little. His fingertips disappeared under your skirt. You looked up to him, seeing the smirk on his face.

His middle finger traced your wet slit through your underwear. Pressing onto your clit, you almost jumped when the pleasure hit you like electricity. Your hand got on his thigh, your fingernails digging onto his hard denim.

He was playing with you as you did to him. You could feel his bulge under rough denim. Fingers dancing slowly on the shape, hearing his breath hitch when you pressed your fingertips on it.

He threw his arm around your shoulder, pressing your body closer to his. His other hand was still on your underwear, playing with the band of it.

You pressed your palm against him, gently stroking him up and down. He slid your underwear to the side, exposing you to him. You cursed under your breath as his fingers played with your folds.

You raised your head, pressing your lips along his jawline. His salt pepper beard trickled your lips but you did not mind. He turned his head, kissing you all he got as he pushed a finger inside you.

You bit down on his bottom lip, trying to not moan loudly and got attention. Thankfully the movie was loud enough and a few people chose that time-slot.

“Joel.” You whispered, placing your hand on his bicep. He didn’t stop, curling his finger inside you slowly pumping in and out. You sank down your nails on his skin, biting down on your lower lip to keep yourself quiet.

You kept palming him, trying to get your revenge but he had the upper hand. Your head felt heavy as your pleasure kept building and building.

The credits started to roll on the screen, and lights were turned on again. Joel pulled out his fingers just before people started to move. You both were smiling at yourselves for not being caught.

You got up quickly, holding him by his wrist, leading him to exit. Ditched your half finished soda and popcorn back there in your seat. Your mind was still cloudy from pleasure and you wanted to get more.

He pressed you to his groin as you walked to his car, afraid someone would see his now semi-hard bulge.

He liked the way you dragged him. He liked how you held onto him. He liked how you looked over your shoulder and gave him a small smile.

He loved your smile.

—

You were in his car, in the parking lot. You looked around to see if there were anyone around before you got inside. You quickly kissed him, moving onto his lap again. He pushed his back, giving you a space for you to move better. His hands were holding your ass over your dress, making you grind into him through his jeans.

“Fuck, baby.” He said, his hold on your ass got tighter. “If you continue to go like this…” He admitted, sucking on the spot under your ear.

“Let me suck you off, please?” You said, battling your eyelashes.

His chest fluttered with your request, he couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him this, if anyone ever did. Now his jeans were a bit tighter and his smile was bigger.

An eyebrow raised. “You want to suck me off?” He cupped your cheek, rough thumb tracing your bottom lip.

Instead of answering him, you took his thumb into your mouth, pressing yourself further on his lap. Your crotch was right on top of his bulge, your dress was lifted around your waist.

He cursed under his breath; raising his hips to feel your damp underwear. His one hand was still on your ass, taking a fistful. He knew if you pressed on him little tighter you would definitely leave this car with his fingertip marks.

“As much as I want to see my cock stuffed in your mouth— I don’t want to do this in here.” He said taking off his thumb and replacing it with his tongue. His hand was on the back of your neck, pressing your body onto him as he kissed you with all he got. You opened your mouth to him, letting his tongue devour inside your mouth.

You placed your hands at the back of his neck, fingers curling around the dark locks there. Feeling him melt onto the kiss.

He gently placed you back on the seat, kissing your temple. Your brain functions stopped, unable to process what he had just done.

“Let me drop you off baby. It’s getting late.”

“Okay.” You said nodding quicker than you want, trying to keep your eyes to yourself and not on his erection. You could heard how devastated you sounded even you only said one simple word.

—

The car ride was quicker than you expected, he probably crossed the speeding limit a few times. His one hand on the wheel, the other fixing his jeans, grumbling whenever he had to slow down.

Your hands were trembling when you put your key in the hole. His large hand placed on your hip, his erection was pressed on your ass. Poking you through your thin dress.

You didn’t know if he was doing this to hide it from people or to turn you on even more. His size was effective enough for both.

You almost pushed yourself inside when the key finally turned, the darkness of your hall greeted you.

You turned on your heels, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. Not wasting any time to kiss him. He groaned into the kiss, one hand found its place on your waist as the other pushed the door closed.

You tried to think fast, whether you should take him to your bedroom or your couch was fine or not. When he broke the kiss to take a breath. Leaning his head back on the wall, eyes glued to your heavily breathing figure.

Your hands unbuckled his belt, taking it off swiftly. You broke the kiss to get on your knees but he stopped you. “Are you sure?”

You were fooled by his question. Battling your eyelashes, keeping a soft smile on your face. “Yes, Joel. I want this.” You said as you got on your knees. The landing was not as gentle as you hoped when you got on your knees, the fibers of the rug hurt your skin. Taking a note to get yourself a fluffier rug.

Your hands were trembling when they got on his pant button.

You’re not even good at a fucking blowjob.

His hands were placed on yours, stopping you from pulling it down. “Take a moment baby, ‘m not goin’ anywhere. Okay?”

You looked up into him, seeing the soft smile on his face made your heart slow down. His knuckles caressing your cheek up and down. You saw how hard he was trying to hold himself.

You nodded, taking a large breath through your nose. Pulled the jeans down quickly, seeing his angry cock right in front of you.

Telling he was big was definitely an understatement. And he was not even fully hard. Your mouth salivating when you saw how shimy his tip was with the precum a thick vein underside.

You licked your lips, taking his cock in hand. He hissed at your warm touch, guiding it to your lips. He pressed the tip on your lower lip, smearing his arousal.

You gave it a long lick, tongue following its slit. He hissed when you gave him a quick kiss. Licking and kissing along his length; getting him as wet as possible before you took him inside your mouth.

“That’s it. Good girl.” He said as you wrapped your lips around him, and your fingers were wrapped around where your mouth could not fit.

You began moving your head slowly, working your hands alongside. You relaxed your jaw as you took more of him, his tip pressing at the back of your mouth. Your gag reflex triggered when his tip hit the back of your throat. You stopped for a second to give yourself time to adjust before continuing to suck him.

He was breathing through his nose, watching you between his legs. Your left hand was brushing along his balls at every stroke. Your warm mouth around his length. He could see how hard it was for you to fit him inside your mouth. You were breathing your nose, glossy eyes and some saliva leaving your mouth. It was even harder for him to not take control, not hold your head and move his hips. His nails dug into his palm, leaving half moon shaped marks.

He could feel him getting closer and closer to cum, trying to hold it as long as it was possible, savor the moment. But you were making it hard for him when you were looking at him like that. With tears around the corner of your eyes, taking him with all you got; sucking and licking.

You felt his hot cum shoot through the back of your throat and tongue, the familiar sour taste on your taste buds. You waited for him to finish before slowly taking him outside of your mouth.

His hands cupped your cheeks, raising his eyebrows. “Open your mouth.” He said and you obeyed him. Showing his cum pooled on your tongue. “Good girl, now swallow it.” He said, his fingers brushing along your hair, fixing the loose strands and tucking them back.

You felt proud when he called you good girl. You wanted nothing more to please him. You put your tongue back inside your mouth,swallowing all of the cum; opening your mouth again to show him you swallowed.

He chuckled, kissing you after you got back on your feet. “It is my turn to return the favor.” He said, placing his hands on your dress, guiding you to your couch in a few short steps. “Leaving you high and dry is a crime, baby.” He said as he got on his knees, pulling down your underwear.

You nodded along his words, lifting your skirt to show him your bare cunt, as he got on his knees. He smiled at your state, licking his lips before he pressed his mouth on you.

He wasn’t slow or gentle, he was like a starved man who got denied from pleasure for a long time. You were already wet from the second his tip touched your tongue. His tip flicked your swollen clit, you felt like you were electrocuted with sudden pleasure.

“F-fuck! Da-Joel!” You screamed, pulling on his dark curls. Saved by a second by calling him daddy.

He stopped to speak, brushing his mouth along your pussy. His scruff was itching but somehow he made it better.

He looked into your eyes and you saw the spark in his. The corner of his mouth turned into a smirk.

He liked it.

“You wanna call me daddy?” You nodded, raising your hips to his face. “Call me daddy.” He said feeling himself get hard again, continuing to suck on your clit.

You threw your head back, pulling his curls again. “Daddy, it’s t—too m—much.” You confessed, toes curling as the orgasm built on, sweat forming on your temples. You felt your face heat up when you got close to this soon.

Was this okay?

“You gonna come for daddy? Go on, show me what my baby does so good. Coming for all over her daddy’s face.” You did as he asked, letting the pleasure take over your body.

Crying down with your release as he pushed his tongue inside, lapping up your juices. Groaning at your taste, shaking your body straight from the core.

When you came down from your release, you let go of his head. Lying down on the couch half naked in front of him with your dress around hips.

You looked like a mess.

“You look beautiful.” He said as he put back your underwear and helped you to fix your dress back.

You weren’t ready for the sudden compliment, having a hard time to process when somebody actually complimented you post-sex. “T-thank you.” He kissed your cheek.

He pulled his pants up, tucking his cock back inside his pants. Leaning down over the couch to scoop out his belt. “Uhm, the bathroom is at the end of the hall on the right. You cannot miss it.” You said as you got up from the couch, looking at how his beard was shining with your juices.

He blinked twice then got up. “Want anything to drink?” You asked as you got on your feet, pouring yourself a glass of water. “Yes, please.” He answered as he walked down your hall.

You heard the light switch in your bathroom, nodding to yourself. Your feet slowly dragging you to your open kitchen, legs still felt like a jello after your orgasm. You rested your hip on the counter taking a moment to close your eyes and process.

“You have a lovely place.” You jerked when you heard his voice. Didn’t hear his footsteps or the light switch of the bathroom.

You smiled as he came from the corner and sat down on your two person kitchen table. “Really? It’s a bit different from yours, I have plants which need water and better sunshine.” You said as you pointed your Chinese evergreen across from your couch. “I have tea, herbal tea, coffee, some white wine..”

“Just a coffee is fine.” You lifted your head to your open cupboard filled with colorful mugs and glasses, taking out a butter colored mug.

“And many colorful mugs, as I see…”

“Yeah I even had one that says ‘life is too short to use boring mugs’. Sadly my fridge and cupboards are not filled with many ingredients, it’s mostly frozen food in the fridge. I can’t cook for shit.” You opened your coffee jar, the smell of freshly grounded coffee beans surrounding the room.

He chuckled, “I can teach you, not everything maybe, but if there is something you want to learn. I'd be glad to help you.” You took out a fresh filter paper, placing it on your small machine.

You shrugged, the idea of him watching you prepare a simple coffee was already making your stomach twirl. “No, I just hate cooking. It’s more stressful when someone is watching me.” You explained as you closed the lid and flicked the switch of the machine.

“Now, you know how I felt about our first date.” His voice stood out from the grumbles of the machine.

You turned to him. Seeing him looking at you with those thick arms crossed at his chest, hair slicked back. He was a sight, and you cannot imagine him stressed even for a second. “Were you that stressed?”

“A bit. But I knew what I was doin’. I’ve lived alone for more than two decades, baby.” You nodded, remembering your first year of living alone. You had to google a lot of stuff and he didn’t even have that privilege back then.

“It hasn’t even been five years for me, so no pressure I guess.” You said as you poured his coffee. “My mum didn’t know how to cook until I was born, she says I’ll learn eventually and she is a great cook.” You handed him his mug. Sitting down on the chair across from him. “And your mum? Is she a great cook like you?”

“She was even a better cook than me. She had to feed three men. I don’t think it was easy back in the day as it seemed. There were many times that we were short on money, she mostly had to come up with stuff. I had to start working right after high school, support them for a while until it was my time to move out, then it was Tommy’s. Soon enough we came up with Miller Construction, and here we are.”

You nodded along as he explained, wondering what young Joel was like. Who did he hang out with? How did he spend his free time? Who was he dating back then?

Was he confused about his purpose in life as well?

The last one is too deep, don’t ask him that!

“I‘ve had a friend who was close with my landlady so that’s how I found the place. Then I decided to move out.”

More like a toxic ex than a friend.

“You’re lucky. It took me around three years just to find a place, but I also own my place so I guess that’s normal.”

“Kinda lucky. My landlady is a bitch to me…”

“Really?”

“She never helps me when there is something needs to be fixed. Creates a scene when I miss to pay the rent by one day. She used to snitch on me to my bo—“

You stopped yourself when you realized you almost break your rule.

Never mention your ex unless asked.

“She is not a good person basically.” You explained; raising up to place your now empty glass back to sink. Turned your back towards him to take a deep breath. Closing your eyes for a second when the familiar memory flashed in your mind.

You’d be stuck in that small place with your mum for the rest of your life without me.

“Have you thought about moving out?”

“Nope. My rent makes her tolerable, I can handle her if she gets though. I have claws too.”

“I see.” He said as he nodded along, taking a sip from his coffee. “Call me if you need my help. I’ve been told that I’m a very persuasive person.” You both chuckled at that.

He got up and placed his half empty mug next to yours. When he stood in your kitchen like that, all broad and tall, it felt like somehow he belonged there all along. In his casual fit jeans and dark green plaid flannel, holding your butter colored chubby mug, it felt like this was your casual evening.

“Living in a big city is tough for everybody.” He added, placing his hand next to your elbow on the kitchen counter. Fingers brushing up and down on your arm.

“Yeah. I will call you, if she gets on my nerves again. Maybe a fresh blood for the battle is better.”

“Yeah maybe.” He agreed. “I’d be glad to help you.” He said as he leant in, kissing you.

The kiss was small, you tasted yourself and the coffee before he took a step back. Leaning his forehead on yours, he gulped before opening his mouth.

“I really hate to say this but I better get going. Have some stuff to take care of.” He said before kissing your temple, walking back slowly as he made his way to door.

“Oh okay, let me walk you out.” You said as you followed him.

“When can I see you again? I assume your schedule is pretty tight, with the wedding and stuff.”

“Yeah it’s in less than 10 days, but I’m pretty much free. I have this dress rehearsal in two days and that’s pretty much it. That and the wedding of course.”

He nodded along as you explained. “I hope it’s not too early but I have a cabin. I’ll spend this month out there.”

You felt like your heart shattered when he said he’d be away for a month. “Oh, it seems nice.”

“It is. It’s good for relax and stuff.” There was a moment of silence, you scratched the back of your leg with your feet. Unable to form a sentence.

So was this a goodbye-goodbye? Would you be able to reach him when he is at the cabin?

“After the wedding I’d like to take you there actually. At least for a few days, I’m in between projects and usually I go there and spend some time away from the city.”

He wants you! He wants you there!

“I’ll check in with work, had some pending leave days, if I can use them…” He cut you short, already smiling like a kid with a treat when he got your answer.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

“Sure. Drive safe.”

“Will do,” He said as he gave you a kiss on the lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back. Giving him a nice goodbye before he marched down the stairs.

He felt like he was more alive then ever when you said yes to him, mentally planning the trip and made sure to go and check the cabin before he brought you there.

You felt like your heart was beating inside your chest when you closed the door. You brought your fingers to your lips, still feeling his lips there.

[1oftherottenones]

Hiyyaaheyhey can i request hyugo x gn reader? Idk any good plots .. mayb hyugo meeting reader for the first time like in the game when u see him on the roof? But instead u team up with him for the project? Idk if that's a good plot enough sorry

💙Hyugo Sugimoto x Reader💙

Reader pronouns: Unspecified

Pairing: Hyugo Sugimoto x GN!Reader

Plot: After a good crying session, this random student decides to threaten your life with a pocket knife! But now he wants to work on a school project with you...? What's up with him?

Word count: 2.1k

Extra: I'm sorry this is so ass. It's more of a warm up for me. It's not as romantic as I wanted it to be, so sorry :( I still hope you enjoy!

Your eyes burned from the amount of times you've rubbed them. God... You felt so dramatic for all that crying... It wasn't even necessarily a big deal, it just felt like one thing after the other and it was finally all crashing down on you.

You rubbed your eyes with your wrist one last time before standing up and taking a small breather. You'd been sitting on the roof to get away from everyone, to get away from life. Just sitting in front of the roof entrance and crying as much as you needed... It felt pathetic but at the same time a little relieving.

You let out a soft sigh, turning to leave and get to your next class. But you paused when you heard the sound of someone's voice around the corner of the roof.

Was someone up here the whole time?? Well that's even more embarrassing... Curiously, you peak around the corner and see a young man who was probably a year or two below you. He had perfectly smooth and pale skin, along with dyed light blue hair that was the color of the sky.

Maybe he was an art student...

He was talking over the phone in a hushed tone. But you couldn't make out the words, it actually seemed like he was speaking a completely different language. A foreign exchange student, perhaps? You've never seen him on campus before but he was wearing a typical uniform.

You then turn away and decided you no longer had any interest in him. Sure, you were nosey, but you couldn't even tell what he was saying.

But as you were about to walk out the door, you felt a strong hand grab your shoulder.

Before you could turn around to meet their gaze, you felt something cold and sharp against your throat, causing you to let out a noise of surprise mixed with fear.

"Who are you?" The man behind you asked in a surprisingly deep and cold tone, the same guy who was just speaking over the phone. "Speak." He then demanded.

You felt your heart quicken and your palms get sweaty. You couldn't even bring yourself to say anything, you were frozen.

"...Not talking, huh? You have the right to remain silent... But in this case I seriously recommend otherwise." His tone was the same cold and deep tone as before. This time his threat was added with the small knife edging into your skin, drawing a tick of blood.

You quickly try and use your elbow to hit him in the gut and catch him off guard, but he seemed to be a few steps ahead of you.

He grabbed your elbow that you desperately tried to jab into him and twisted your whole arm behind your back,

"Ow ow—!" You squeak out, finally you felt like you were out of moves, you give in and spout your name and class you're in out to him. You were unable to hide the panic in your tone.

"Hm?" He suddenly let go of you and you stumble forward, quickly turning on your heel to face him. You were ready to start throwing punches but you were surprised to see ... He wasn't even looking at you!! How rude. He glanced to the ground, tapping his chin in thought, "You're in class 4-B." He repeated. His expression was now soft and almost sweet looking. A drastic change.

You took the chance while he was distracted and pathetically threw a punch his way, but he easily caught your fist with his palm and looked back up at you. You let out a small noise of frustration as he caught your fist so casually.

His expression seemed far less intimidating but you still felt a shiver down your spine as he quickly grabbed your fist and looked you right in the eyes.

"You have such great timing!" He smiled, his smile bright enough to blind you ... This guy seriously had some issues. Threatening you with a knife just to act all happy-go-lucky!?

"...What?" You mutter, your own expression twisting into deep confusion.

"You see... My friend totally ditched me as a partner for my next class ... There's a partner project and since he left me for someone else, I'm kinda stuck on my own." He laughed before continuing, "Anyway, I really need to pass this class! But I can't do the project alone. But we're in the same class! Do you mind helping me out?" He requested with a grin and his hands resting on his hips.

You look him in the eyes with a look of absolute confusion mixed with horror... Who does this guy think he is!? Now he's asking you for favors?! And he didn't even apologize for trying to kill you just now!

"Woah woah! Hold on! You just tried to kill me and now you want my help? You haven't even introduced yourself!" You quickly spouted out, taking a couple steps back as if you were expecting him to attack again.

The man looks at you with a mindless look and just blinked before his face lit up, as if he only just understood your concern. He took a few steps closer to you as you stepped back, no regard for personal space. It would've probably flustered you if he didn't just threaten you.

"Oh! I'm Hyugo Sugimoto! I'm a year above you but I'm retaking a class you have since I missed so many days." He laughed as if failing a class was any laughing matter...! Wait he's a year above you?? His build and face totally suggest otherwise!

"Uhm... Okay... So why the hell did you attack me..??" You then ask, rubbing your arm awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable with this Hyugo guy.

"Oh, this?" He held the pocket knife up with his hand before closing it and pocketing it, "Self defense. The security here isn't all that reliable... Sorry about that!" He explained, still smiling.

You supposed that kind of made sense... But it's not like you were posing any kind of threat or something...

"It's... Fine..." You say, wishing he would take a few steps away from you. "But I don't think I can help you with the project." You said bluntly.

You could help him. But why would you!? Sure he apologized but you had a bad feeling about this guy! Despite his energetic and pretty face.

His expression shifted to look a little more disappointed, he then suddenly grabbed one of your hands with both of his, causing you to flinch a little.

He then, without warning, dropped to his knees,

"Please help me with this! I promise I'll make it up to you! I'm sorry about that whole knife thing, I thought you were spying on me, but I was wrong! I really need your help! Everyone else already has a partner and I always see you by yourself so I was just hoping we could work together! I really need to pass this class! Please please please please please please—"

"Okay okay!!" You yell out, cutting him off. Your face was bright red from embarrassment. Seriously? Getting on his hands and knees and begging to help him!? That was dramatic... "I'll help you... Just get up." You huff.

He immediately popped up to his feet with a grin, still holding onto your hand, "Thanks. I knew you'd help." He winked before you jerked your hand away from him. His hands just proved how soft his skin looked. They were cold but in a calming kind of way.

He gave you a small pat on the shoulder and leaned in, softly whispering in your ear, "Wipe away your tears. Crying doesn't suit people like you." He said with a small, more genuine, smile.

How did he know you were crying just now? Before you could ask any further questions, he was already walking down the stairs to the class you two supposedly shared... How have you never noticed him before? Well... It's not like you could think of a single person in your class. You clearly needed to pay better attention to the people around you.

--------

Hyugo and you made it to your art class, and just like Hyugo said, today was the last day to pick partners for the project.

You sigh, not even wanting to get up and meet with your new partner... 'Luckily' for you, he seemed to already take the courtesy to go up to you instead.

Hyugo stood in front of your desk, putting his hands on the table in front of you, "Let's get started on this project!" He said enthusiastically with his usual smile.

You found it hard to believe this was the same guy that threatened you on the roof...

"Yeah... Let's." You mutter as he takes a seat next to you. The both of you pull out the supplies you may need for this art project and set them down on the table.

"So we need two pieces... What should we do?" You ask, deciding to get his opinion first.

"Hmmm..." He tapped his chin and thought for a moment, "Oh! Let's do portraits. You draw me, I draw you, yeah?" He suggested.

That wasn't a horrible idea ... You figured it would be simple enough but possibly fun.

"You know, you really have the face for it too. I can totally imagine seeing your pretty face in art museums or something."

That was ... Oddly really flattering. "Oh... Thanks." You say, your face turning a little red. "I could say the same for you," you respond. It wasn't really a lie. He was definitely very pretty. You were jealous of how perfect his face was and how wonderfully flowy and soft looking his long hair was.

"Aw, shucks. You're sweet. I knew you were the right person to ask." His tone was a little teasing but still harmless.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, "We should get started." You quickly change the subject, "We can get some quick sketches down of each other for today at least and we can focus more on detail the following days." You say, taking some initiative and deciding you'd draw him first.

"Sure," he agrees, nodding his head. He shifts in his seat as he sees you decide to draw first. He moves in a more flattering angle for the sake of the drawing and holds still.

After a few minutes of you looking between him and the sketch you were working on, you sigh.

This guy talks... A lot... Which was not only distracting, but also causing Hyugo to unintentionally move his head too much.

"Could you please just—" you start before cutting yourself off with a huff.

"Hm?" He tilted his head in confusion at your sudden words.

You gently reach your hands out and grab his face, repositioning his head to be in the correct angle, "Now don't move."

He seemed a little surprised but then smiled, "Ya know, if you wanted to touch me you could've just asked." He said with a teasing tone and laugh.

"Don't ... Say it like that..." You mutter, your face turning red for a third time today from the same guy.

Hyugo squinted his eyes a little, "What? Why?" He asked cluelessly, but you were willing to bet he was just playing dumb. He knew exactly what he was saying...

"Shh. Stop talking too." You shushed him, looking back down at your sketch pad.

He only huffed in response, clearly not happy about you shushing him.

But he was silent for the rest of the time.

Finally you finished the sketch, enough at least to where it wouldn't matter if he started moving again. You gave him the signal that he was good and he immediately leaned over to look at what you drew.

His eyes quickly lit up with sparkles, "Woah! This is seriously good!" He said, seemingly very impressed. "You should let me keep it after it's graded." He said, his gaze going from the sketchbook to your face; only now are you realizing how close his face is to your own... Again, this guy has no sense of personal space!

"What? You want to keep a portrait of yourself? Talk about ego." You said, mostly just joking though and poking back at him since he'd been poking fun at you this whole time.

But instead of getting an amusing reaction out of him, he still seemed totally serious about keeping it, "But you made it. And your art is clearly amazing. I'd like to keep it."

Your smile faded and you felt your heart beat a little faster, but not in the way it did at the roof. It was more... Flustering.

"I mean... Okay... Sure... Only if you let me keep the one you make of me." You bargain, the smile slowly returning to your face.

He grinned, "You've got yourself a deal." He agreed with a wink.

Gosh... His smile, his eyes, that wink... It almost made you forget about your quarrel on the rooftop!

At least you had a much better feeling about doing this project with Hyugo...

[kalinysu]

Muzan with wife reader who failed a mission and is trying to avoid him after he yelled at her? extra fluff pls

𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘. - Muzan x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: None/Small angst. (?)

𝐍𝗼𝐭𝐞𝐬: LAST thing i’ll write Muzan for a while. 😭

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You had been avoiding Muzan for days. At first, he didn’t take the time to realize as he had been far too busy with other things to pay your obvious distancing any mind. He also never thought of you being upset with him for something that he did so often. Yelling? He’s yelled at practically everyone.

But you, you were his wife. That was the first time he had yelled at you, and you thought that he would treat you differently because you were his wife. But he yelled and got really angry with you, just like every other demon. It hurt you, more than he realized. And the fact that the two of you hadn’t talked in days and he didn’t notice, or rather didn’t care that something was up hurt even more.

You had been cooped up in your room for a while, and nobody had ever checked up on you or anything at all, not even your own husband.

Not that you expected it, everyone had been busy with the demon slayers and such. But still, he was your husband, and he had to have even a little free time at some point. You were sulking in bed, losing track of time, until finally, someone had opened your door.

“Get up, do something productive, like finding me that flower.”

Your husbands deep voice rang out as he rummaged through your drawing and took something before leaving without another word. The fact that he was now telling you only to find the flower stung. He most likely thought you were incapable of doing anything else.

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Days had gone by now, you had nothing, and it seemed Muzan was only growing more and more irritated as time went by. You had lost all hope of him ever coming to see you for even a split second of affection.

You were outside, somewhere. An unknown location, simply sitting on a hill in the moonlight. The flowers were pretty, but you couldn’t take the time to admire them. You were far too lost in your thoughts. You didn’t care for the flowers if they weren’t the one Muzan wanted.

Suddenly, you noticed someone sit down beside you.

Your husband.

Neither of you spoke, even though you really wanted to. It wasn’t an awkward silence, the two of you just knew it wasn’t the right time to talk. Well, you knew. Muzan didn’t talk because he didn’t want to or feel like it. He’s always been like that. He rarely showed affection through his words, but you didn’t mind to much, especially not anymore. You had grown used to the small gestures of affection from a while ago, but now you were convinced they had stopped.

“.. My lord if.. If i’ve done something to offend you—“ You started, not looking at him as you spoke.

“You’ve been distant.”

You looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at you, not avoiding, but simply looking across the hills. “You haven’t spoke to me in so long.. You have only uttered few words but those were orders, and weren’t frequent either.” You said, hugging your knees.

“Am I supposed to come to you? What happened to you coming to me?”

Your husband said. It sounded cold, but you knew that wasn’t his intention. You usually always came to him, showing affection and in return receiving affection back. He was right, you never went to him anymore. But..

“It seems you’ve been mad at me..”

“I was mad, but that’s no reason not to come to me. I’ve been irritable lately with all these nuisances.”

“But if your irritated.. you don’t have to take your anger out o..” You trailed off, going silent before you could even finish your sentence as you noticed him glaring at you. Looking away uncomfortably you mumbled slightly. “..Nevermind— I.. It’s fine but—“

“Sorry.”

You blinked a few times, wondering if you were hearing things. You looked back at him. “Hu—“

“I don’t like repeating myself.”

You went quiet.

“Your supposed to say you forgive me.”

“Right!!— I forgive you.” You said, still a little shocked he had actually apologized. You’d never heard that word come out of his mouth before, unless he was mocking someone but that was different.

“—‘My lord’?”

“—My lord.” You added, a small smile playing on your lips at the reminder. You leaned against his shoulder slightly, and in return, he placed a hand on your waist.

“Don’t avoid me like that again.”

His hand came up to your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, before he leaned down and placed a kiss on your head. When was the last time you had kissed him. You looked up at him.

“No.”

“No? No to what?” You said, with a fake innocence, before quickly giving him a peck on the lips before he could speak.

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[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part Five

Pairings: Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst, smuuuuutttttt, bucky and you dumb affffff and will continue to be dumb affff lol

A/N: I will be updating my masterlist to link it below so you dont have to search for the other parts!

As you walked in a clicked the door shut, placing your keys in the bowl, that had little flowers painted all over it your heart clenched, Bucky made it to you is some ceramics class he took so he could make you a birthday gift that was extra special, you sighed pulling out your phone to text Steve: Made it home safe.

Your phone chimed back almost instantly: Good. Was worried about you.

As you made your way down the hallway, your hand lingered on your door as you stared at Bucky's door, which was across from yours "Stop it" You mumbled to yourself, you shut your door behind you a little too fast as you typed out: Thanks for always being there Stevie.

It said Read as soon as the message sent and the bubbled popped up: Always. Get some rest, okay?

I'll try, Dont drink too much beer, someone told me its not good for your health ;) night

-- Ha ha, whoever said that sounds like a smart guy... Goodnight :)

You laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind a chaotic mess of thoughts you can’t quiet. You’ve been tossing and turning for what feels like hours, every second dragging painfully slowly. Your heart twists with questions and doubt, replaying all the subtle moments with Bucky—moments you were so sure meant something more. Had you read all the signs wrong? All this time, you thought there was something unspoken between you, something lingering just beneath the surface. But now, with Kate in the picture, that hope feels like it’s slipping away, leaving you feeling vulnerable and maybe a little foolish.

You’re still caught up in the whirlwind of your thoughts when you hear the front door click shut. Bucky is back. Only one pair of footsteps echoes through the quiet apartment, and you exhale softly. Kate isn’t with him.

You listen as his footsteps draw closer down the hall, your heart pounding as they slow right outside your door. You hold your breath, half-wanting to call out, half-terrified of what he might say.

After a moment, his soft voice breaks the silence. “Doll…you awake?”

You bite your lip, staying silent, your eyes squeezed shut as if that might make the whole situation disappear.

There’s a long pause, and then you hear him sigh. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper, laced with regret. You hear him linger for a beat longer before the quiet click of his bedroom door closing.

Your heart sinks, and you lie there, sleepless and aching, until exhaustion finally wins over.

When you wake the next morning, the apartment is still and quiet. You glance across the hall, hearing no sounds from Bucky’s room. Thank God. You don’t know how you’d face him just yet, so you dress quickly, grab your things, and slip out of the apartment, practically fleeing as if it were on fire.

The early morning air is crisp, waking you up fully as you make your way to your usual spots. You grab a coffee, linger at the bookstore for a while, and then pick up a bottle of wine for girls’ night, something you’re now very much looking forward to. On a whim, you swing by your favourite bakery, grabbing a big bag of donuts, hoping it’ll be a welcome surprise.

By the time you reach Wanda and Natasha’s apartment, it’s still early, and you can almost hear Wanda’s sleepy grumble before you even knock. After a few moments, the door creaks open, and Wanda appears, rubbing her eyes, looking as if she’s just rolled out of bed.

She blinks at you, her voice drowsy. “You’re about five hours too early for girls’ night,” she mumbles with a yawn.

You laugh, lifting the bag of donuts. “I come bearing gifts!”

Her eyes light up at the sight, and she grins. “Screw girls’ night. This is now a girls’ day.” She opens the door wide, ushering you inside with a grin.

You gather around the kitchen table, mugs of coffee in hand as you tear into the donuts. It doesn’t take long for the questions to start, Wanda eyeing you carefully between bites.

“So,” Wanda begins, her voice casual but with that all-too-knowing glint in her eye. “What’s going on with you and Barnes?”

You let out a heavy sigh, and Wanda's face softened , as if sensing just how much you’ve needed this. “It’s…complicated,” you admit, glancing down at your coffee. “I thought…I thought there was something between us, you know? And after all these years.... But now, with Kate…I don’t know anymore, i dont think i ever did"

Wanda frowns, reaching out to pat your hand. “Maybe he’s just as mixed up as you are,” she offers gently. “Bucky’s not exactly known for being straightforward about his feelings.”

“Yeah, but after all this time…” you trail off, feeling the weight of all those quiet hopes and missed chances.

Wanda shakes her head, determination flaring in her eyes. “Look, you deserve someone who knows exactly what he wants and isn’t afraid to show it, and its girls day anyway, forget about those stupid boys!"

You raise your coffee cup in agreement. “To girls’ day,” you declared, grinning. “Where we eat donuts, drink wine way too early, and forget about all confusing men for a while.” You clink your coffee mugs together, laughter filling the room. And as the morning stretches into afternoon, with stories and laughter, you find yourself able to breathe a little easier.

---

Later that day, Steve, Bucky, and Sam were sprawled around Steve’s living room, beers in hand, the low murmur of a football game playing in the background. It was guys’ night, meant to be an escape, but the tension in the air was hard to ignore.

After a sip, Sam shot Bucky a look. “So…how’s she doing?” he asked, referring to you, tone casual, but with an underlying hint of curiosity.

Bucky shifted in his seat, his jaw tightening. “She was asleep when I got back from the bar last night,” he muttered. “And gone before I woke up. Hasn’t been answering any of my texts.” He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly frustrated.

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “Can you blame her?”

Bucky gave a weak chuckle, but his shoulders slumped. “I know,” he sighed, glancing away. “Nat gave me an earful last night.”

Steve groaned, rolling his eyes as he leaned forward. “Do you really get it, Buck? Do you know how amazing she is? She’s been there for us, for you through everything—through all the moves, the close calls, every rough patch. She’s loyal, funny, strong, and—she’s beautiful, Bucky. Inside and out.” His voice softened. “She’s always been there, right there pal.”

Realisation flickered across Sam’s face watching the way Steve talked about you piecing together how he was when he rushed out the night before to chase after you and the way he wouldn't let his phone lock till you said you made it home safe, while Bucky stared into his drink, his usual swagger deflated. He stood up to grab another beer, muttering to himself, “If I didn’t know any better, Steve, I’d say you were in love with her.”

As the words left his mouth, the room went silent, the no response was a response enough. Bucky froze, beer forgotten, as he shut the fridge door and peered at Steve. “You…you’re in love with her?”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding Bucky’s eyes. “Man…can you blame me? After all these years? Are you telling me you’re not?”

Bucky blinked, taken aback. He shook his head slowly, in disbelief. “I mean, I knew you had a crush on her back in junior high. But come on, everyone did.”

Sam, leaning back on the couch, gave Steve a knowing look. “So, why didn’t you make a move, Rogers?”

Steve shrugged, his eyes distant. “Come on, you know why, Sam.”

Sam nodded, understanding why because well he tried but after looking, really looking he could tell your heart was tied up elsewhere, and Steve glanced at Bucky, a faint apology in his gaze. “Look, Buck, I didn’t mean to drop that on you. I’m sorry, pal, its just i dont get you man”

Bucky hesitated, the gears visibly turning in his mind. “Are…are you still in love with her?”

Steve let out a sigh, giving a small, wistful smile. “She was the first girl I ever fell in love with, Buck. Part of me probably always will be. But y’know she's my best friend and you're my best friend too…” His voice softened, a bit nostalgic, and understanding as he met Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky shifted, brows drawn, processing Steve’s words. “Does she know?”

Steve shook his head with a dry chuckle, and Sam cut in, rolling his eyes. “She’s as blind as you, Buck. God, you two are just—two peas in a pod.” Sam raised his beer, a grin spreading on his face. “Here’s to that.”

Steve chuckled, raising his own beer. “I’ll toast to that.”

Bucky frowned, folding his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve leaned forward, looking Bucky dead in the eye. “Look, punk, that girl’s been head-over-heels in love with you since we were kids. Anyone with two eyes can see it. And you? You’ve been playing this back-and-forth with her for years—whether you know it or not. I know you’d never hurt her on purpose, but come on, man. You’ve gotta stop doing this.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, a mix of frustration and longing crossing his face. His gaze dropped, his voice almost a whisper. “I fell in love with her the first day I saw her, when we fought over the swings in kindergarten” He smiled softly “Ive never, never loved her”

Sam groaned, throwing his hands up. “Then what the hell’s stopping you, Buck? She’s right there, man! You know how many people search their whole lives for ‘the one’? And she’s been there all along!”

Bucky clenched his jaw, his voice barely more than a growl. “I know, Sam. Don’t you think I know?”

Steve shook his head, exasperated but with a hint of a smile. “Then what the heck are you waiting for?”

Bucky looked at both of them, the weight of years of history and feelings settling over him “Something happened in college”

---

Just as you finish setting out the wine glasses, Natasha walks in, kicking off her shoes with a groan. “Finally!” she exclaims, collapsing onto the couch. “Rough day. I need a drink and a plan for tomorrow. We’re going all out for your date.”

You laugh, topping off Natasha’s glass. “Already on it. Tomorrow, we’re going shopping for a new dress. And then Saturday, you’re kicking Bucky and the boys out of the apartment, and we’re having girls’ day to get you ready.”

Wanda grins, chiming in, “And fingers crossed, maybe you won’t come back. You’ll be over at Dean’s, if you know what I mean” she wiggled her eyebrows

You roll your eyes, groaning. “Slow down, Wanda! Not so fast!”

Wanda tilts her head with a teasing look. “Speaking of which, when was the last time you even got close to any action? You’re never with anyone, not even back in college!”

Natasha leans in, smirking. “Don’t tell me we’ve been getting all the action while you’re at home alone with a favourite vibrator or something....unless you've been hiding a double life this whole time" She winked

You sputter mid-sip, choking on your wine as the other two crack up. Laughing, you shake your head. “I mean… there was… one time.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming. “Excuse me? Who? You never told me this.”

Wanda, leans closer “Come on, spill. Who was it?”

You sigh, feeling the warmth in your cheeks. “Okay, okay….do you guys remember that party John Walker threw in our third year?”

Wanda’s eyes widen. “Oh, how could I forget? Natasha jumped from the balcony into the pool, and I nearly had a heart attack!”

Natasha laughs, looking delighted at the memory. “Best party of college. But wait… I remember after that, we couldn’t find you anywhere. We looked for ages and got really worried.” Her expression shifts, suspicion dawning in her eyes. “Wait. Whose room did you disappear to that night?”

Wanda’s jaw drops, and she leans forward, her eyes alight with excitement. “Oh, this is gonna be good. Tell me it was someone we know! Oh my god was it Tony?!”

They start tossing out names: “Steve?” “Sam? No he was already gone” “That guy in your English Lit class?” “Oh my god it had to have been that exchange student, with the long blonde hair -- he looked like a god and he was so into you!”

You finish your wine, swallowing before glancing meaningfully at Natasha, that was one of your favourite things about your relationship with her, the way you both could just almost telepathically speak to one another.

Natasha’s eyes widen, her mouth dropping open in shock. “No, nuh huh! No way.”

Wanda looks between the two of you, completely lost. “What? I’m missing something here!”

Natasha, still staring at you in disbelief, finally speaks, her voice low. “Bucky?”

You nod, cheeks burning as Wanda promptly spits out her wine, sputtering in shock. “You’re kidding!”

“Not at all,” you admit. “We… never talked about it again. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even remember it was me.”

Natasha’s expression softens. “You don’t have to tell us the story if you don’t want to.”

But you just give a little nod, ready to finally let it out. “It was after you jumped off the balcony into the pool, I decided I should probably check on the boys especially if that's what you were doing” You laughed shaking your head “Bucky and I… we did a couple of shots….and there was this… moment.”

Natasha and Wanda exchange glances, both of them leaning in, wide-eyed as you begin to share the story of that unexpected, unforgettable night.

The party is in full swing, laughter and music echoing throughout the dimly lit house. You stumble out of the crowded living room, laughter bubbling in your chest as you weave through the throng of bodies.

You spot Bucky on the far side of the room, his broad shoulders hunched over as he leans against the wall, a beer in hand. He's wearing that classic, easy grin that makes your heart race.

With a few drinks in you, your inhibitions are low. You move toward him, your steps unsteady but filled with purpose. "Hey, Barnes," you say, your voice a playful challenge. "Having fun?"

Bucky's smile widens, and his blue eyes sparkle with mischief. "Just trying to keep an eye on the chaos. You know how it gets at these things." He gestures toward the crowd where Steve has just attempted to do a keg stand, much to everyone's delight.

“You’re telling me, Nat just jumped from the balcony into the pool” You gesture with your hands to the backyard, you could tell that he was worried by the look that washed over his face “She's okay, its Nat, Wanda on the other hand almost had a heart attack”

“God, she's insane!” He laughed, finishing his drink.

“Yeah, after that i decided to come check on my boys”

“Your boys hey?” He half smiled, his eyes piercing into yours

You laugh, leaning closer to him, the warmth of his body drawing you in. "Yeah my boys” You shoved him lightly, feeling anxious all of a sudden “Want another drink?" He nods, and together, you slip into the kitchen. The room is quiet here, and the air is filled with the sweet smell of spilled cocktails and the faint scent of something baking in the oven.

You pour two shots of something strong, handing one to Bucky. "To surviving another wild night," he toasts, clinking your glass against his.

"Cheers," you giggle, and you both down the shots, the liquor burning pleasantly on the way down. You pour another round, the world around you blurring into a warm haze.

As the night wears on, you find yourselves retreating to a quieter corner, sharing stories and laughter, the tension between you thickening like the air before a storm. "You know, I always thought you were kind of a dork," you tease, nudging him playfully.

"Yeah? And what do you think now?" he asks, leaning closer, the playful spark in his eyes deepening.

"I think you're a charming, more sophisticated dork," you say softly giggling. But then all of a sudden the moment shifts, when Bucky's face stays serious even with your giggles. The laughter fades, replaced by something heavier, more charged.

Bucky's gaze drops to your lips, and you feel your heart racing. "I could say the same about you, you’re a dork too…" he murmurs, and you can't help but feel drawn to him. He reaches out, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary “But I always thought you were the most beautiful girl in any room, like thats my best friend, couldn't believe it, still cant” The air crackles between you, and suddenly, the noise of the party fades away.

You find yourself leaning in, breathless, and Bucky meets you halfway. His lips are warm and slightly rough against yours, igniting a fire in your veins. You kiss him back, deepening the connection, your hands finding their way to his neck, pulling him closer.

As the kiss intensifies, you feel the world spin away, leaving just the two of you in this moment. Bucky's hands slide to your waist, fingers digging into your sides, anchoring you against him.

He pulls you closer, and the heat of his body against yours sends shivers down your spine. "Let's get out of here," he whispers against your lips, his breath hot and inviting.

You nod, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness. He takes your hand, leading you through the house, away from the noise and chaos. You finally reach a door at the end of the hall. Bucky opens it, and you step into his dimly lit room.

As soon as the door closes, he's on you again, kissing you fiercely, as if he's been waiting for this moment as long as you have. The bed looms behind him, a tempting promise of what's to come.

Bucky's hands roam over your body, exploring with an urgency that sends your heart racing. "Are you sure about this doll?" he asks, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, the sincerity in his gaze grounding you.

"I am," you breathe, and that's all the reassurance he needs.

With a shared breath, he pushes you gently back toward the bed, and you sink onto the soft sheets.

He follows, his body a comforting weight above you as he kisses you again, slower this time, exploring the taste of each other like it's a secret.

The world outside fades completely as you lose yourselves in each other, fingers tangling in hair, the soft sounds of your breaths and whispered names filling the room. Bucky's hands slide beneath your shirt, his touch igniting a fire on your skin as he revels in the curves and contours of your body. You arch into him, craving more.

"You feel so good," he murmurs against your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

The sound of his voice, thick with desire, sends waves of heat crashing over you. "Bucky," you gasp, feeling bold as you pull him down to kiss him again, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

He responds with a low growl, pressing into you, the friction driving you wild. "Are we really doing this?" he asks, his voice thick, almost reverent.

"Yes," you whisper, and it's like a spell has been cast. He grins, and the world melts away as you lose yourselves in each other, bodies entwined, hearts racing, as the night unfolds in a flurry of passion and warmth.

"You have no idea doll, no idea...." He whispers before diving back in, time loses all meaning, the night stretching on until exhaustion pulls you both under, and as sleep claims you, the last thing you feel is the warmth of Bucky's body next to yours, a content sigh escaping his lips.

The next morning, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. You blink against it, slowly waking up to the warmth of Bucky beside you, still fast asleep. For a moment, you let yourself soak in the sight of him, the softness of his face, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. But then it hits—the sharp pang of reality—and your heart sinks.

Your mind races, doubts creeping in like shadows. Last night felt like a dream, one that you’d wanted for so long. But had it really meant something to him? Or was it just a hazy, alcohol-fueled blur—a careless mistake he wouldn’t think twice about in the morning? Anxiety knots in your stomach as you wonder, What if I was just… there? Convenient.

Slowly, you slip out of bed, careful not to disturb him, each movement feeling heavy, like you’re pulling away from something you’ll never get back. You dress in silence, your hands trembling slightly as you piece together last night’s clothes. You glance back at him once, letting yourself hold onto the memory for a beat longer, but the panic rises again, louder than before. He’s Bucky—your best friend—and you don’t dare risk what little you have left with him if he wakes up and regrets this.

You need to leave before he opens his eyes. Before you see anything in them that could shatter you.

With one last look, you step out, closing the door softly behind you, the quiet click echoing in the empty hallway. As you walk away, the weight of that night presses down on you, a mixture of longing and regret settling deep, leaving you wondering if he’ll ever even think of it again.

[haikyu-mp4]

Of herbivores and miscommunication

word count; 746 – gn!reader, deaf!reader

Being deaf wasn’t something that troubled you too much anymore. You had been deaf for as long as you could remember, and you were used to most of the challenges it presented in day-to-day life.

However, some places made you lower your shoulders properly. One of those places was the Sendai City Museum. It mainly had historical departments, and sometimes they would put up temporary art galleries. You liked admiring paintings because no one else staring at them could hear anything more than you. The paintings were silent, yet gave you an unfamiliar sense of… loudness.

Most of all, you enjoyed the dinosaur department, where you could spend hours reading the different boards and learning new things whenever they released new features or exhibitions. Sometimes they would borrow things from other museums to draw more people in, and those could be particularly interesting.

Tsukishima Kei noticed you the first time he saw you and remembered you well the second time. You were quite pretty, and he liked the way you smiled and nodded while reading to yourself, always in your own company and seemingly enjoying the peace of that. He could relate.

He was responsible for the dinosaur department, usually stationed there as a guide to anyone who wanted extra information or needed to ask for directions. One particular evening, just about two hours before he could go home and as the museum-goers slowly became fewer and fewer, he caught himself smiling when you walked into the room.

You met his eyes and smiled back, before making your way to the herbivores. Part of him wondered why you were there so often yet hadn’t asked him anything before, while the other part wondered if it would be too obvious if he approached you himself.

But when he saw your brows furrow at something you read, he took his chance to walk over. He thought his footsteps had been pretty clear with the dressy shoes he was required to wear with the uniform, but you seemed to startle anyway, holding a hand over your heart and turning towards him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he asked, but you had already turned back to the skeleton of a stegosaurus as if you couldn’t hear him.

Tsukishima cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow in question. He tapped your shoulder and you turned to him with the most calm yet interested look he had ever seen, it made him stutter over his words for a weak moment before gathering himself.

“I’ve seen you come here often, are you particularly interested in this department?” he asked, trying to look professional with his hands clasped behind his back. But it wasn’t easy when you seemed to be staring at his lips instead of his eyes.

You turned your body more and lifted a hand to tap your ear, smiling just the same. I can’t hear you. Then you tapped your finger on the word herbivore on the plaque in front of you and nodded, correctly assuming he didn’t know sign language anyway.

Tsukki drew a sharp breath, alarmingly embarrassed that he hadn’t realised and just assumed you were rude or weird. He looked to the side and was about to say something more when he realised that if he looked away, you definitely wouldn’t know what he said. “Sorry, I don’t know sign language. I’ll leave you to it.” So he bowed politely and swiftly turned away, too embarrassed to stay around while you looked after him with a pouted lip.

He was kind of cute.

About a month later was the next time you came back, when they announced the herbivore department had received a revamp with more plants to make you feel like you were more immersed in the dinosaur experience. You practically skipped all the way to your favourite area, taking the time to admire everything you hadn’t seen before.

Until a hand tapped you on the shoulder, making you jump slightly before turning around to the familiar face of Tsukishima. You perked up happily when he greeted you with a proper sign language hello, and returned the same gesture.

Then you noticed that his other hand held a small notepad and a pen, notepad flipped over to a page with something written on it. He noticed your gaze and held it up, slightly hiding behind the notepad and keeping a straight face.

My name is Tsukishima. I could write you some interesting facts if you want.

masterlist

a/n: I am not deaf and tried not to write anything too specific for the sake of executing this idea, but please kindly let me know if you see a problem with this

[makixroll]

Hi hi hi (*´∀｀)ﾉ if it's still available "How could my day be bad when I'm with you?" With K, please?

GET WELL, SWEETIE — k ۫ ꣑ৎ

pairing . . . koga yudai x fem!reader

content . . . "how could my day be bad when im with you?"

serenade — &team lyric mini event

going out everytime Kei gets a day off isn't something uncommon with you two. He'd always bring you to these lovely cafes or restaurants he finds whenever he eats out with his members, since he wanted for you to try them, too. And today, Kei's company gave him two days off, which meant he'll be spending two whole days alone with you.

You've always wanted to do cafe hopping, and you told Kei about it when he came home from work, and he agreed wholeheartedly, even researching for great cafes he haven't tried so the experience with you will be extra special. You were laying beside him, limbs wrapped with his as you watched him scroll through his phone with fondness in your eyes.

But of course, it just so happen you woke up the next day with a sudden fever. Your throat hurts and was drier than usual, you could feel yourself burning up, and a growing headache. You felt extra bad when you accidentally woke Kei up because of your coughing fits. He stared at you with a concerned expression, as he rushed towards the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Your boyfriend asked, worriedly, before he placed the palm of his hand on your forehead, and his eyes grew wide.

"Oh no, you're burning up!" And before you could open your mouth to speak, he bolted outside the shared bedroom once again, gathering a thermometer, a wet towel, as well as medicine for your fever.

He took your temperature, and when he saw it, he sighed heavily, not because of the ruined plans, but because Kei hated seeing you get sick. With a worried expression still on his face, he held your jaw delicately, like he was afraid to break you into pieces.

"You're so hot.." Kei mumbled, his eyebrows furrowed together as he could feel the fever heat of your body seeping through his palm.

You giggled weakly, "I know."

"Not the time for jokes, sweetie." Kei said, with a deadpanned tone.

"Sorry." You mumbled, not exactly meaning it, as you still held a teasing smile on your face, something Kei adored.

"Go and lay down. Get some rest." Kei urged, combing your hair through his fingers, tucking them behind your ear. You nodded as you laid down, patting the space beside you.

"Lay down with me?" You mumbled weakly, your throat itches, which emitted another cough from you.

"I have to cook our breakfast first, and then I'll come rest with you." Your boyfriend stated, caressing your cheek. You pouted slightly, not wanting him to leave your side.

Kei noticed the expression you had, so he gave you a soft smile.

"I'll be quick. I promise." He said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You hummed instead, not having the energy to speak at the moment, as you feel yourself getting worse by the minute.

Kei stayed true to his words, the porridge he made didn't take too long, and he fed you as well, not wanting for you to lift even a single finger. Which you really loved about him. Kei takes good care of you everyday, but he gets extra attentive whenever you get sick, which is the only thing you enjoyed when you're sick. His undivided attention.

Now, after you two finished eating and took a quick rest to let the food go down, you two now laid on the shared bed, your head tucked under Kei's chin, your arm resting on top of his chest, where you could feel his heartbeat. Kei's right hand placed on the back of your head, caressing your hair softly while his left arm was wrapped around your waist, drawing small unidentified shapes that gives you comfort.

"Kei?" You called out, softly.

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry..." You mumbled, feeling guilty for ruining a perfect day where you two could go out and enjoy.

"What for?" Kei asked, confused.

"For ruining our plan... for having you experience a bad day because of my stupid fever.." You answered in a whisper, but Kei still heard it, and he couldn't help but frown.

"How could my day be bad when I'm with you?" Kei answered in a soft voice, making you pucker up your lips, trying to stop yourself from tearing up.

"Still..." you tried to reason out, still feeling guilty about it.

Kei rubbed your head, "shh.. I'm serious. Just being with you makes my day brighter." He placed a kiss on top of your head.

"Get well soon, okay, sweetie?"

[dreemurr-skelememer]

Hello :D

I have been following you for the last year or so (a few days after I got my Tumblr lmao) and I absolutely love your art!

I have been wanting to study your art style for a while but don't really know where to start,,,

Could you please show me a small portion of your art process, if it isn't too much trouble of course. Thank you and have a nice day!

hello. oh my god. this took forever to find.

im sorry it took 2 WHOLE FUCKING MONTHS for me to respond to this but i wanted to put it off until i felt happy with my art process again, so here it is

my fall 2024 rendering tutorial!

(this will be very very long)

FLATS AND WHATEVER YOU WANNA DO WITH LINES GIRL. then make sure to recolor the lineart to better match your base. trust me it helps, bold dark lines are Not your best friend when rendering. wait for that post-rendering

i start off with a doodle or a sketch, and then filling it in with flats and other details such as blush

FIGURE OUT YOUR LIGHT SOURCE. FIGURE IT OUT GIRL YOU CAN DO IT you can make it as simple as possible, make it as big as possible, dont even THINK about the details.........just make it really fucking big so you at least know where the shadows and the light goes THEN add smaller shading details LISTEN TO ME. LISTEN TO ME OKAY!!!!!!!!

my key point with this is for you to learn lighting fundamentals.

it's SOOO ANNOYING but alas......they are all correct. it helps a lot.

one thing i also really want to point out is that i like creating a big shadow shape first before fixing up the little details (such as folds and whatever) because it helps me focus on the way the lighting actually works instead of tunnel vision-ing into making the shading make sense on the clothing.

contact shadows (i dont remember if thats what theyre called okay) theyre fucking ugly because im not actually thinking sorry 💔

okay so basically:

contact shadows (if that's what they're called) are the spots in shading and lighting where light will NEVER hit.

shadows are still influenced by the colors and lights around it (it's why a blue shadow and a yellow shadow feel completely different, despite both being shadows) so it's not always COMPLETELY dark.

BUT! there are small points in shadows where light never hits, and they're almost always super dark or pitch black.

it's hard to explain shadow and light so briefly for a tutorial, but you'll notice it when watching fundamental studies and when trying it out for yourself

YES i unclipped the multiply layer YES its ugly and terrifying but it makes coloring the multiply layer easier okay the colors merged w multiply so now it looks cool and has depth overlaying colors that actually make sense

so basically what i did was color the multiply layer that i used to shade the overall drawing

adding a band of red/orange/yellow around where the light hits, and blue where the shadows get big and wide, gives it a fake ambient occlusion effect in the way that a person would get if they stood under the sun with a clear blue sky

the colors don't have to make sense, especially because i never draw backgrounds, but coloring the shadows really help it give a sense of depth and extra subtle detail and effect that just helps make the painting look nicer

around the end, i also put in colors (in an overlay layer with a low opacity brush) that actually make sense in context of the drawing, which is the lit cigarette and the yellow eyelights

mostly because none of the colors were making sense and i needed to actually make use of the lighting that DOES exist in the drawing lol

adding a muddy golden yellow pin light layer (opacity turned down to like 40-50%) to make the light colors less ugly lol

i SWEAR by the fucking pin light layer style. it's so useful and so so underrated.

i used an almost brown-ish gold color on stop of all the layers, and with the pin light layer, it helped make the bright (almost blue-ish) white colors more warm and more yellow. it just helps make things more warm (something i prefer)

i could probably show what it looks like without adjusting the layer opacity to truly show off what i mean (like in the coming section) but i sadly forgot to do that lol

make a layer on top of your drawing with this color in these ranges YES the drawing is fully merged NO don't be afraid, the base was fucking ugly anyway 💔 make this layer into an exclude/exclusion layer style TRUST turn down your exclusion layer opacity from a range of 10% to 40% literally until you're happy with the contrast and the way the color over the drawing. use your eyeballs. i know you can do it im so proud of you

this is pretty self-explanatory instruction-wise, so i'll go into why i do this instead

i really like art that seems like it has low contrast, with almost mid-gray shading and lines. i don't personally use dark and bold lines and shading, unless i find it necessary for the tone of the piece, so using this method helps lower the contrast of the art and make it look "pleasantly muddy" in the way that it's easier and softer on the eyes.

the inverted blue color also helps makes things warmer!

the exclusion layer style is still a bit of a mystery to me but i really like the effect it gives, even if i don't completely get how it works lol

if you want an alternative method to this, and if you have access to it (because i primarily use sai and sai only),

i absolutely encourage you to play around and experiment with gradient maps.

there are so many out there you can make yourself or even get from others that just give the painting an extra amount of depth and color variation. they're SO fun.

personally, if sai2 gets a gradient map update, it's over for y'all it will literally be so over no one will be able to stop me

then i merged everything and actually adjusted the contrast back up because it was looking too muddy for me 💔 but the color adjustments are still there so all hope is not lost here's a comparison of the adjusted contrast in black and white (adjusted on the left) (newly merged layer without adjusting the contrast on the right)

as you can see, i actually turned the contrast back up (despite talking all about how i liked things with less contrast lol)

i wanted to demonstrate that doing adjustments should be done in moderation, and is why i adjust layer opacity often when making color effects

you are free to play around with colors to help your style, but don't lose your initial idea and colors along the way.

you still need to trust your own colors and intuition!

along with that, i just want to say that it's completely okay to change your mind mid-painting, and it's okay to make somewhat drastic changes.

don't be afraid to change things you don't like or change your mind about certain aspects way later on

that's basically the whole thing of this!!! don't be scared!!!

now im gonna hold your hand when i say this..........but you need to learn how to render by yourself. it seems like i can teach you but i literally can't, because rendering is different on every piece and depending on how clean your base is. i have to render A LOT because of how fucking ugly my sketches are LMAO to simplify it, think of it as obsessively cleaning up every detail you can see, but with a color picker and a clean, hard edged brush. if you have shit lineart, you don't have to redraw it cleanly over and over, just paint over it. that's basically what rendering is

THIS especially is where you need to be brave and stop being scared.

like i said, i can't teach you how to render, and it's something you have to discover yourself because rendering is something that will always be personal to every single piece you make. the way you render on every piece is different.

on one piece, you will barely need to render, and on another, rendering is more than half of your ENTIRE process.

don't be afraid to paint over your old art.

rendering is a process that's both very perfectionist yet also very careless.

find your balance and just go for it.

and then that's it……..u did it………..now yuo know how to paint and render. it's literally just layering shading and lighting knowledge until you think it makes sense and looks okay lol additional note: since i render in only one layer (you don't HAVE to do this, but it'll be harder for you…), i also made slight adjustments with the transform (and liquify, if you have it) tool to make things more proportionate. (i drew the head too big lol)

if you compare the finished piece to the final unrendered base, you can see that a LOT changed, including a bit of subtle proportion adjustment.

particularly, the sleeves changed A LOT (because i really didn't like them)

but it's also over all cleaner and more coherent, instead of having haphazard colors and shading just thrown about.

rendering is when you finally use all 100% of your brain to finalize and figure out where the shading should go, where to clean up your lines, where to ERASE or ADD BACK in lines, and make sure all your colors look coherent.

it's not as intimidating as it seems, i only use a hard edged brush with a little bit of color mixing and my color picker.

it's like dragging and dropping colors to cover up mistakes, it's really quite fun when you get used to it

i wish i could explain it clearer but it's hard to describe without visuals!

i hope this helped, and i hope all my yapping isn't annoying (art as a special interest beloved)

have fun studying and trying to render in my art style!

[starrihan]

Masquerade (Leehan Fic)

Plot -> Your parent's 25th wedding anniversary is coming up and to celebrate, they are hosting a masquerade ball at your manor. You still have to prepare and learn the dances for the ball, so how do you end up falling for your dance partner's servant?

Genre -> fluff, smut, renaissance AU, dialogue heavy, servant! Leehan x Lady! Reader, older brother! Taesan, lord! Sungho, afab! reader, kissing, fingering, piv sex, no protection (wrap it up!)

Warnings -> mentions of dead family members

Word Count -> 14,075

Notes: This is my first fic on here and I didn't expect it to be 14k words long 😭I proofread this like 3 times but its long so there may still be some mistakes. This is historically inaccurate, I only use noble titles that were prominent during the renaissance era. I took inspo from this song and a some inspo from Bridgerton. I hope you guys enjoy this~

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hiding behind a disguise, can you feel me watching you?”

Awoken by the bright rays of sunshine that flooded your room, you remembered how tired you were that you forgot to shut the blinds and draw in the curtains before falling asleep last night. With the masquerade ball, in celebration of your parent’s 25th wedding anniversary, coming up in just about a week, preparations were brutal. 

This was the first masquerade ball that you would actually participate in. You’d attended many when you were younger, playing around with the other kids there that were your age but you were never expected to dance or had any role in them. Now that this ball was in celebration of your parents, your family, you were expected to be a great host. Not to mention that this was big for you, as wedding season was coming up. You had talked to your parents for a while about not wanting to be married so early so they never forced you, but being at that age, you knew that many families were looking to marry their sons. 

Your father, Lord L/N, had accomplished so much in the short time that he was one, giving your family a huge name in the town. You were sought after by many families. This ball would be your formal introduction to the town as an adult and would garner many suitors for you. You shrugged off the thought for now and went to brush your teeth and bathe, getting yourself ready for the day. 

You go downstairs and see a familiar figure sitting in the dining room, eating the breakfast that was prepared by the lovely maids that ran your parents’ manor. You take a seat across from him, grabbing a plate of freshly cut fruits. 

“You woke up late, you know,” he says, chuckling. 

You shoot him a mocking smile, taking a bite of an apple slice. 

“We had a busy day yesterday. The tailor used the wrong measurements for my dress and now I have to wait 3 days before I can go back to pick it up. I’m stressed out about learning the dances since there’s only a week left before the ball and we’ve barely even started. My dance partner isn’t that good and I’m worried I won’t be good enough. Forgive me if I took an extra hour to sleep in,” you poured out to him. 

Your brother, Dongmin, was older than you by just a year. He stood up from his chair and patted your head. 

“It's gonna be okay Y/N. I’m taking you to practice later today at the Park residence. Their son, Sungho, is going to be your dance partner. I know he was interested in you so I arranged for his instructor to help you practice with him.” 

“Thank you Dongmin. I’m sorry I’m so stressed. I appreciate you setting this up for me! I owe you one,” you smile up at him, getting up to ready for the practice. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re taken to the Park residence, accompanied by Dongmin. Because he is your older brother, he sees you to all of your affairs since your father is always busy. And because he is your father’s son, he has to learn the roles of a lord should something happen to your father. Dongmin did, at one point, find someone who he had loved and wished to marry, but things fell through and he set aside his own feelings about marriage until he’s older, wanting to learn everything there is to know about lordship first. 

Waiting for your arrival, the Duke and Duchess of the Park house wait outside. You greet them with a deep bow and courtesy of your dress. To their right, you spot their son, Sungho. You had seen him at previous balls throughout the years, but you guys had never formally met. ‘He’s really handsome,’ you thought to yourself, before turning to greet him as well. 

“We meet again, Duke and Duchess. Thank you for having us,” Dongmin greets with a smile and a bow. 

“What a pleasure it is to meet you, Duke and Duchess. It is an honor to be allowed here. Thank you for letting me practice here with your son,” you say. 

They exchange smiles with each other before looking back at you and Dongmin. They formally allow you into their home and show you around. 

A couple minutes into the tour Sungho says, “I can show them around and then take Lord Dongmin and Lady Y/N to the practice hall.” He smiles at the both of you before leading the tour himself. 

He continues to show you guys around, occasionally talking about the history of the house and some specific details about the wallpaper and architectural workings of the house. You can’t help but be mesmerized at everything he is talking about. Finally, he takes you to the room that you’ll be practicing in. There seems to be a couple more people in the room making you sigh in relief that you weren’t the only one that needed practice. 

“I have other matters to attend to. I will be taking my leave. Thank you again for letting Y/N practice here. I shall come to get her in a couple of hours,” Dongmin bows at Sungho before leaving, informing the Duke and Duchess of the arrangement. 

You smile at your brother before he leaves, assuring him that you’ll be alright. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You step into the practice room and a seat. As you’re changing your shoes, you catch one of the servants in the room looking at you. He’s tall and lean, his almost shoulder length brown hair catching your eyes. He’s very handsome and he shoots you a small smile as he looks away. Your cheeks dust a faint pink before looking away from him, unsure of the feeling you just felt in your stomach. 

The practice goes on and you’re constantly stepping on Sungho’s shoes. He lets out small chuckles whenever you do, never getting frustrated at you, which you appreciated. From the short time you’ve been practicing with him you could tell he was very sweet and gentle. He was able to guide you and keep you on track fairly well considering your efforts. 

You’re given a short break from the practice in which you figure that you need to use the bathroom. You were okay to find it by yourself, but since this wasn’t your house, you look to enlist the help of Sungho. When you turn to look for him you realize he’s not in the room. You meet the eye of the same servant from earlier and he could sense that you needed some help. He makes his way over to you and bows,

“How can I be of assistance Lady Y/N?”

Your breath caught in your throat. He was, quite literally, breathtaking. And his voice was so deep and soothing. You almost forget that you needed help finding the bathroom. You bow back at him.

“Where is the restroom?”

Your voice comes out small at first, almost as if you’re too shy to talk to him. He stands in front of you while he directs you to the closest restroom that just so happened to be down the hall. 

“I shall wait for you out here until you finish. Then I can take you back to the practice room. Please let me know if there is anything you may need.” 

You enter the bathroom and try to calm yourself down. What was this feeling? Why was him talking to you making you feel this way? You wash your hands, touching up your makeup before stepping back to look at yourself in the mirror. After fixing your hair as well, you go back outside where you find the servant waiting for you. 

“Thank you so much… uhm… What is your name sir?” 

You ask, realizing that you never got his name. He’s about to speak when Sungho spots you from down the hall. 

“Lady Y/N! So this is where you have been? I am sorry I left for a minute, I had to take care of something. Is everything alright?” 

He looks at both of you and smiles. 

“Yes, everything is alright. I was just taking Lady Y/N to the restroom. I insisted I wait for her so she does not get lost on the way back,” the tall man says while bowing at Sungho. “I apologize for not informing you beforehand.” 

“Do not apologize, I wasn’t around for you to tell me. I’m glad that you took her and that she is okay. Shall we all head back to the practice room?” 

And with that, you all head back, making small conversation on the way there. You walk behind Sungho and walk in line with the servant. His hand slightly brushes yours, to which you both apologize. He takes to walking behind you, forming a line. He doesn’t miss the slight blush adorning your cheeks after your hands brushed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the practice is over, you sit down on one of the sofas by the window. You sigh out a breath of relief and relax a bit, tired after the hours of dancing. 

“For your first time practicing, you did a good job,” Sungho says, offering you water. You thank him and drink the water a little bit faster than what would be considered lady-like. “Thank you so much. For the water and the practice, thank you for everything.” You’re about to put the cup of water down on the floor when the servant from earlier walks up to you. 

“Allow me,” he says, grabbing your cup and taking it away from you. Sungho doesn’t miss the way you look at him, staring for a bit too long for it to be normal. “Thank you,” you say to him now, not being able to look him in the eyes. He walks away without another word, bowing to you before he does. 

As you get ready to leave, you receive word from Sungho that Dongmin can no longer come pick you up. You look at him, not knowing what to do now as you had no way back home. 

“I can take her back. If you so let me, sir,” the servant chimes up. Having walked back with you and Sungho you realized that the tall male was Sungho’s personal servant. 

“Could you please? I would do it myself but I have a lot of work to catch up on tonight.” He turns to face you, “Lady Y/N,” he reaches for your hand and plants the gentlest kiss on the back of it. 

“I shall see you tomorrow for another practice session. Have a wonderful night m’lady,” he bows to you and you bow back. “Thank you again, I shall see you tomorrow.” 

“Are you ready to go, lady Y/N?” 

“Yes.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After saying your goodbyes to the Duke and Duchess as well as everyone else in the home, you go outside to meet him. 

“Forgive me for the carriage we have right now is a bit small.” He says apologetically. The carriage, while smaller than other ones, was beautifully crafted. One of the finest carriages you have ever seen. Its black body and gold fixtures, perfect for a sleek entry and getaway and the windows big enough to comfortably peer out of on long rides. 

“It is quite magnificent. Not too small at all, just perfect,” you say softly looking at the carriage in awe. He gives you his hand to help you into the carriage before closing the door and securing the lock. He hops into the front and gets the horses ready to move. 

“The ride back will take about 45 minutes,” he informs you. As the horses start to move you look out the window, thinking back on the things you have yet to do. With only 6 days left you realize that there’s still so much you have to learn when it comes to the dance. As well as learning the names of all your guests and picking up your dress and mask from the tailor’s… 

“I’m sorry m’lady?” 

A deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“I’m sorry! I seem to have gotten distracted by my thoughts. You were saying…?”

“Oh, no worries at all. I was only asking how you were feeling about all this? I heard it is the first masquerade ball that you’ll be attending as a hostess.” 

“Well, if I'm being honest, I am quite nervous. Like you said, I am a hostess. There seems to be so many little things I must take care of throughout the night. Not to mention that I still am learning how to dance. I am very grateful for the Duke and Duchess letting me practice in their home, along with their son.” You feel a small weight lift off your shoulders, this being the first time you talked about your apprehensions towards the coming event with someone other than your brother. 

“I was watching the practice, you seem to be learning fairly well. On par with the others also learning the dances. And Sungho is a good dancer, never nervous and he never falters. I heard he took interest in you, he has great taste.” 

The last comment causing a small smile to form on your lips. 

“He is very well-mannered and a fine man indeed. When I heard he took interest in me I was surprised. We had barely spoken in the past so him reaching out to my older brother was a shock. He is very handsome and indeed a gentleman.” 

You couldn’t see it, but a slight frown had made it up to his face. He couldn’t figure out what caused him to have that reaction. He was happy for Sungho that he had found a potential wife, wasn’t he? He should be happy that someone was speaking about his lord in such a way. 

The way you spoke about him could convince anyone that you have an attraction for him. But as much as he seemed so perfect, he hadn’t managed to make you feel anything other than a friendship towards him. It has only been a day but, if he was really interested in you, so much as to go as far as relaying his interest for you to your parents and older brother, surely he would have made his intentions more clear.

“Sungho is a fine gentleman, he would be lucky to have a lady like you, as you would be to have a lord like him.” 

The rest of the carriage ride is spent exchanging small talk and a couple of laughs heard here and there. Once you arrive at your house, he steps out of the carriage and walks to your side and offers his hand to you. You take it, slowly stepping down, out of the carriage.

“Thank you so much for taking me back home… I still never got your name sir,” you say, remembering that last time you asked, Sungho had cut you off.

“Please, call me Donghyun. It was my pleasure bringing you home, Lady Y/N. Enjoy the rest of your night. I have been informed that I will come to get you in the morning.” He bows to you and bids you farewell, as you watch him ride off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It's magic that I’m lost in your spell, but you don’t even have a clue…” 

The next few days follow the same routine. Donghyun picks you up and drops you off for the next couple of days when you need to practice. The conversations you guys shared were always light-hearted and casual, as you told him to drop honorifics since you found out you were the same age. There was a sense of familiarity you got when speaking to Donghyun, like he was the person that could listen to you talk forever and never get tired of hearing your stories. 

There were sometimes conversations that got a little too deep, much more than you would discuss with a mere acquaintance or in this case, the servant of your maybe-future-husband. You had never really spent time with Sungho outside of dance practice. Sometimes he’d take you to the courtyard of his house during breaks and on days where you had more time before practices. But things felt more intimate with Donghyun and you felt that you could let your guard down more when talking to him. 

You always knew he was staring at you specifically during the practices. Always coming up to you first before asking any of the other guests if they needed anything. At first, you thought it was because he was Sungho’s servant and by extension, yours as well. But you didn’t see him that way. You always treated him with as much grace as you would a lord, unlike how you’ve seen others treat servants. 

What neither of you knew though, was that Sungho had picked up on the subtle glances you’d shoot towards Donghyun, or the obvious stares he would give you. The way he would come up to you first, not even him. Or the way that you’d shyly tell him if you needed anything, always trying to hide a small smile on your face whenever he’d walk away. As much as he wanted to ask you to go out with him and get to know each other more, he believed it would be best for him to just help you with dance for now. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today, you go to tailors with your mother and Dongmin. You hope that this will be the last time you have to go there for a while, praying that the dress and mask fit perfectly. 

“How does this look? There was a lot of extra fabric I had to take in but I managed to size it without messing up the design,” the seamstress explained, looking at you for your approval. 

You look in the mirror, marveled by the stunning shape and flow of the long, dark green dress. The beautiful off-the-shoulder dress enhancing your collarbones and complimenting your figure perfectly. The lace trimmings were exactly how you pictured in your head.

“It’s absolutely marvelous!” You exclaim. “This is just what I had in mind— even better in fact!” One thing about you, when you think something is perfect or well done, you become extra bubbly, contrary to your, usually, very calm demeanor.

Your mother and Dongmin both look at you in excitement, glad that you love the dress and that you had one less stressor to worry about. 

“You look absolutely stunning darling. I’m sure Sungho will think so too,” your mother says, Dongmin agreeing with her. You couldn’t help but to think of what Donghyun would think of your dress if he ever saw it. 

“My little sister, all grown up,” he exaggerates, “you look really beautiful. I’m happy you love your dress,” he says with the utmost sincerity. You’re beaming ear to ear, happy that everyone loves your dress. 

“We’re gonna go pay for it upfront while you change back into your clothes. We’ll be waiting for you outside the carriage,” your mother says before walking away with your brother.  

“You look magnificent. Like a princess.”

Your breath caught in your throat, making you speechless for a moment. You recognize the voice, turning around with a shy smile on your face. 

“Donghyun! It’s lovely seeing you today! What brings you here?” 

Today was a break from practicing. The tailors you went to were two towns away, making for a 6 hour carriage ride to and back. You didn’t expect to see Donghyun here, as normally he mentions to you on the carriage rides to the Park’s residence what duties he has for that day and the days following. He never once mentioned going to the tailors, especially not the one you went to considering there were a few in your town. 

“I had to pick up some last minute items for Sungho. He’s been busy sorting his family affairs so he sent me here in his place,” he explained. 

The truth is, Sungho knew you’d be here today. He didn’t really have anything that he needed but he knew that the chances of something happening between the two of you were slim. He picked up on yours and Donghyun’s mutual attraction towards each other, choosing to stay out of it and hopes that you two would kindle something of your own. 

“Of course, he must have a lot to attend to as the Marquess. I’m sure he would’ve come here on his own if he could,” you begin, “but thank you, for the compliment,” you look down at your dress, glad that he also took a liking to it. 

“Will you be attending the ball?” You asked, hopeful of his answer. 

“I unfortunately will not be in attendance. The whole family will be at your masquerade ball and therefore I must look after the house along with the others.” He sees you visibly sigh, smiling to himself at the thought of you missing him at the ball. 

“That is very unfortunate, I was hoping to see you there.” You don't know what got you to be so forward with him, but you saw the slight smirk tug on his face as you said it. Realizing the implications of what you just said, you look away in embarrassment, but part of you hoping that he would miss not being there too. 

The silence between you two is a little awkward now, not knowing what to say to each other. Donghyun clears his throat, remembering that he had something to tell you. 

“I was going to tell you this tomorrow on the carriage ride over but Sungho will not be here for tomorrow’s practice.”

“Oh, who will my dance partner be then?” 

“Me.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The whole way home, you’re thinking you can’t wait for tomorrow to come. While Sungho is a really good dance partner, you were excited to be able to dance with Donghyun. The thought of being in such close proximity to him had you grinning like a fool. 

“Who are you thinking about that has you so giddy?” 

Dongmin’s question breaks you out of your thoughts, heat rushing to your cheeks as you’ve been caught thinking about Donghyun. You hesitate for a moment before starting to speak, only to be cut off by him.

“I bet it’s Sungho, right? You’ve been without him for one day and you’re already missing him. Mayhaps you are in love?” 

You pause what you’re about to say, thinking about his words carefully. Is this what that is? Are you in love with Donghyun? You bite the bullet, asking Dongmin a serious question.

“If I miss him and can’t stop thinking about him, does that mean I am in love? If I want to be closer to him when we are together, does that mean I’m in love? If the little things and small interactions make my cheeks flush red, does that mean I’m in love?”

You’re rethinking all the interactions you’ve had with Donghyun so far. The little glances and stares you take at one another. The brushes of your hands when walking with each other. The wanting to hold his hand longer when he helps you in and out of the carriage. 

“I’ve felt that before. I would say yes, that would mean that you are in love.” 

Dongmin had a lady who he was going to marry about a year ago. You can tell he had loved her dearly. When it was found that father had fallen ill, her family had moved back to where they were originally from. While the relationship was short-lived, only lasting about a month, you could tell that he had been in love just by the way he looked at her. 

“So this is what being in love feels like…” you trailed off.

Of course, he didn’t know that it wasn’t Sungho that you were talking about. You had thought about telling him, knowing that he would understand and support you no matter who you loved. But you believed that now wasn’t the best time, not knowing yourself what your actual feelings were. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon arriving home, you’re given some news by your father. 

“You will be staying overnight at the Park residence tomorrow. I have already spoken to them, and they have so graciously agreed to keep you for the night. You still need practice but there will not be anyone here tomorrow as they will be thoroughly cleaning the manor for the ball in 3 days.  Please go pack your stuff before they get here.” 

You eagerly pack your overnight items. Making sure you have everything properly packed you sit in your room until it is time to go. You hear a soft knock on your door. 

“Come in!” You shout, knowing it’s Dongmin on the other side. 

“Are you all packed up and ready to go?” 

“Yes, I just double-checked and made sure I had all of the stuff I will be needing. What brings you in here?”

While Dongmin was a great brother, he wasn’t exactly known to you for being the one to make sure you were all packed and ready for your own affairs. 

“It is Sungho that you were talking about in the carriage, right?” He bites his lower lip, looking up at you, waiting for your response.

Your eyes meet his as you look at him in genuine shock. You didn’t know if it was because you were surprised that he would ask you such a thing, or if it was because you were shocked that he knew that it wasn’t Sungho that you were talking about earlier.

“Of course I was talking about Sungho. Who else could I be referring to?” 

You ask with as much confidence as you can muster up in the moment. You hoped he wouldn’t press the situation further, but you knew your brother. 

“If it really were Sungho, you would be talking about it more often, not just thinking about him silently in carriage rides.” He raises a good point. 

“On top of that, if he was as eager to be with you as much as you think about him, he would be the one coming to get you personally.” You hated when he could see right through you. 

“You can tell me honestly, who you were talking about. You know I’m on your side no matter what.” 

You would be lying if you said that the idea of you telling your parents the truth hadn’t crossed your mind. But you were worried about what it would do to your family. How it would look if the first daughter of the Lord was to marry the servant of the son of the Duke?  You didn’t care as long as you were happy with him, but you know it would be a big deal to your parents and big deal to the Duke and Duchess as well. 

You didn’t  realize how overwhelming the situation actually is until you felt a couple tears rolling down your face. Dongmin’s gaze on you softens when he realizes that he was right. Pulling you in for a hug he reassures you that it will be alright, but you need to talk to him so he could talk to your parents for you. 

“His name is Donghyun. He is the personal servant to Sungho. He is the one who brings me there and back everyday. I don’t know how it happened but it just did.” You start from the beginning.

“He was always at the dance practices but he caught my eye the minute I saw him. He was really handsome and super sweet. I was thinking about him in the carriage today because I saw him at the tailors while you and mother were paying the expenses of my dress and mask. He said I looked magnificent, like a princess.” 

You wiped the tears from your face slowly, recalling the precious moment, laughing a bit as you realized that holding in that information weighed heavy on your mind. Relieved, you look up at Dongmin who is smiling from ear to ear. 

“My baby sister is in love.” Is all he says before pulling you in for another hug. 

“I’ve spoken with him a few times while we waited for you to finish getting ready. He seems like a fine gentleman. And he makes you happy, which is what’s truly important.” He laughs before helping you bring your stuff down. 

You look up at him and smile, feeling pure bliss as you were able to come clean about it all, and from being able to have Dongmin’s full support. While your parents’ opinions were important, Dongmin’s opinion mattered more. He was the closest person to you, your best friend. 

“I am excited to be there for the night. And tomorrow, Donghyun is going to be my dance partner.” 

He looks at you with a mischievous grin, almost scary. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Expecting you to slap his arm, he preemptively runs away, escaping your wrath at his rather crass comment. You can only giggle a bit before following him downstairs. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With all your stuff loaded into the same carriage as the first night, you bid your farewells to your parents and brother. You enter the carriage with Donghyun’s help, eagerly awaiting your arrival to the Park’s residence. You feel the cool air blow past your face as the slightly chilly autumn weather provides a beautiful scene for you to look at. 

“It is quite breezy outside Lady Y/N. Are you sure you want to keep the window open? Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold now,” Donghyun remarks, concerned about your well-being.

“Actually it feels quite nice. Being in these clothes all day can get a little warm. Plus, it’s nice to get the fresh air in here.” You appreciate his concern. 

A couple minutes of silence go by as you think about earlier in the day when he said you looked like a princess in your dress. You can feel a blush coming on remembering the look on his face when he saw you. 

Donghyun was surprised when Sungho said he had forgotten that he needed some things in preparation for the ball. Sungho was usually on top of his belongings. He always knew what he needed to do, when to do it and what he would be needing for any events. Of course, Donghyun would never question him in that way, and instead just did as he was told. He was completely unaware that you would be there. He knew that you were going to pick up your dress that day but he didn’t know where you would be. When he entered the tailors he immediately went to someone, asking for Sungho’s things. There weren’t many other people in the shop at the time, since it was pretty early in the day. He had just finished paying for everything when he heard your familiar voice. He looked around for you until he spotted you, a couple feet away from the changing room. Without thinking he went up to you, 

“You look magnificent. Like a princess.” 

The words playing over and over again in your head.

He didn’t know where he had gotten the courage to say that to you, but your reaction was priceless. He knew when he had first seen you at the practice room that he had an attraction to you, but seeing you in your dress, a shocked yet shy expression on your face, he knew that he had fallen for you. His face held a soft expression, reflecting pure awe and fondness at the sight of you in front of him. He felt a little swell of confidence when you looked away all bashful. 

Replaying the whole incident in your head over and over you failed to realize, again, that Donghyun was asking you a question. 

“Are you lost in your thoughts again, m’lady?” 

“I thought I told you to drop the formalities? We're the same age and you are not my servant. I shall provide you the same grace and respect as if you were my own colleague.” You chuckle, finding it cute that he was still being formal with you.

“I appreciate the offer but you are still a lady. The daughter of the lord, might I add. It would be dishonorable of me to refer to you as anything other than a lady.” 

It was his respectful manner that drew you into him more. You found it very attractive that he stuck to his morals, deciding to drop the conversation of formalities. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shortly after the conversation, you arrived at the Park residence. Donghyun had helped you out of the carriage and grabbed your belongings for you. 

“Allow me to show you to your room, Lady Y/N.” 

You follow behind him quietly, greeting the Duke and Duchess and everyone else along the way. He set your belongings down onto the ottoman in the room you were given. 

The room was painted a soft, baby blue. Beautiful crown moldings adorned the lining of the ceiling and floor. There were two big windows beside a big bay window. Across from the canopy bed in the middle of the room was a vanity complete with a big mirror and all the makeup products you would ever need. Next to the bed was a door that led to your own personal bathroom, fully stocked with everything you would need in there. 

“I want to apologize sincerely on behalf of the Duke and Duchess and Lord Sungho. We have assigned a lady’s maid to you but she will not be here until the morning. Again, my deepest apologies,” Donghyun says, bowing to you for longer than normal. 

“Because Lord Sungho is not here tonight, I shall see to it that I handle your requests personally. Please let me know if you need anything.” 

He stood close to the doorway, awaiting your response. 

“That is completely alright. I understand that because the Duchess is the only lady of the house, it makes sense that there are not many ladies around. I appreciate you and your efforts.” 

You bow back to him, smiling as you look around the room again. You touch the bed frame, the baby blue curtains of the canopy matching the walls of the room perfectly. You sit on the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. You look at Donghyun,

“This room is so perfect. Who should I thank for setting it up so perfectly?” 

A small blush creeps onto his face as he looks away.

“I was the one who prepared the room for you. I asked them if I could be the one to do it…” 

You look at him in awe, the familiar feeling of your heart racing once again at the thought of Donghyun doing this specifically for you. You walk up to him and smile. You grab his hand and look into his eyes.

“Thank you so much for setting this up for me, Donghyun.” 

He felt like he never wanted you to let go of his hands. The tips of his ears becoming red at your close proximity, feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He had never been drawn to someone in his life, especially not like this. There was something about you that made him want more. Fighting the urge to hold your face in his hands, he looks away from you. 

“There is no need to thank me. I am glad you like the room. I will leave you to do your nightly routine as it is getting quite late. I shall see you in the morning.” 

Normally, servants weren’t supposed to kiss the hands of the people that they serve, but he couldn’t resist this time. He turned over your hands, placing gentle kisses onto both of them. 

“Have a goodnight, m’lady.”

Your eyes plead with him, not wanting him to leave, but you know he has to. As he leaves the room, you feel a wave of sadness hit you, already missing his presence. Feeling rather hot from the intimate interaction, you head to the restroom and draw yourself a bath, getting ready for bed as you knew you had a whole day of practicing ahead of you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up the next morning to a knock on your door. Opening it up, you realize it was the lady’s maid that was assigned to you. You both exchange greetings and bows before she helps you get ready for the day. Drawing your bath for you and setting aside the makeup that she will be doing on you for the day. She even had a dress pressed, steamed, and ready for you to wear for practice today. 

Because the ball was only 2 days away, you had to wear dresses that were of similar style to the one that you had picked out in order to better dance in your actual dress. The first couple days were practiced in more casual, everyday dresses to help you learn the steps first. 

You go down to the practice room eagerly. You already know your way around the manor by now but your maid accompanied you anyways. You step in and immediately take notice of Donghyun standing where Sungho normally does. You’re more excited seeing his face and rush to stand across from him. 

“Good morning Lady Y/N.”

“Good morning Donghyun.”

Normally, you would feel anxious and nervous before starting. At this point, you barely stepped on Sungho’s shoes when you practiced with him but you still had trouble following the beat and got the timing of the moves wrong every now and again. As you get into position to start the dance, you notice that you’re not nervous. It was as if Donghyun’s presence instantly had a calming effect on you. You place one hand on his shoulder and he places a hand on your waist, your other hands interlocked as that is how the dance starts. 

During your other practice sessions, Donghyun would solely focus his attention onto you. This meant that he knew at what points during the songs you falter. He knew the very beats that caused you to step on Sungho’s shoes every time. He used his knowledge to help you not mess up. He would match your pace before correcting it and therefore made you feel more at ease. Not once did you step on Donghyun’s shoes. 

As the end of the practice session drew near, you felt sad knowing that you wouldn’t be dancing with Donghyun at the ball. You felt bad for Sungho, knowing that he was assigned to be your dance partner, and that you would likely spend most of the night dancing with only him, only for you to not want him. Part of you wished you liked Sungho as much as you liked Donghyun, but you knew you couldn’t control your feelings. 

“You did amazing today m’lady. You have come very far.”

“It is all thanks to you. Not once did I step on your shoes like I normally do to Lord Sungho. I feel a lot better about the ball, but I am still apprehensive.”

“I could understand feeling that way. But I am sure you will be great that night. This is the last practice we are having. I am glad that I could help you perfect your dance.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s tragic ‘cuz after tonight, my heart will never be the same…���

You freshen up after dance practice. It’s now around 4 in the evening and you leave the room to find Sungho waiting for you. He greets you with a bow and kisses the back of your hand. 

“My apologies for not being able to practice with you today, Lady Y/N. I heard from Donghyun that you did well today.” 

He says, smiling at you, catching the light blush that appears on your face at the mention of Donghyun’s name and his compliment towards you. 

“It is alright, I understand you have other matters you must attend to. I think the practice went alright. I’m a bit nervous since the ball is 2 days away but I’m sure when the time comes we will be great.” 

You smile back at him. 

“You’ve been practicing all morning and afternoon. I can imagine that you are hungry. I came here to tell you that dinner will be ready in about an hour. For now, would you like to accompany me to the park nearby? It's quite lovely outside today.”

“I would love to.” 

And with that, you both walked out to the park, you holding onto his arm. What you didn’t notice was Donghyun had watched you leave with Sungho. 

He knew that there wasn’t a way for you two to be together, but why was he so jealous that you were with Sungho? He knew that Sungho had taken interest in you and he knew that it would make sense for you to want to be with him. Part of him felt like you were going to pursue your relationship with Sungho because you had no reason not to. He could only assume that your interactions between you and himself were regular for a lady to a servant but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more behind your actions. 

The way you would speak to him so softly and the way your eyes always scanned the room for him first. When you asked him if he would be attending the ball and your visible upset expression when he said no. Or the way you let him kiss your hands last night and he swears he saw you lean in and pout your lips when he left. Did that all mean nothing? Was he just making things up in his head? 

He walked away after seeing you with him, needing to clear his head. How had you gotten him feeling like this in just a week’s time? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your stroll in the park with Sungho was very peaceful. You guys walked around, making small conversation here and there about the autumn weather and the upcoming ball. You were able to talk with him freely, feeling like you guys were akin to close friends. But that’s all you felt with Sungho, friendship. You found a bench underneath a tree that you decided to stop at. You smoothed out your dress before sitting down.

“The weather is just lovely today. Not too cold yet.” 

There was a slight breeze here and there but the weather itself was warm enough to wear you didn’t need an overcoat. 

“It is really wonderful. I hear the weather is supposed to be good all weekend. A perfect time to have the ball. I am actually really excited for the ball. I can’t wait to dance with you.” 

You felt a pang of guilt hit you. Sungho had feelings for you that you were upset you couldn’t reciprocate. He spoke up again, 

“I hope you're excited to dance with me too but… I have a feeling that you’re not.” 

You looked at him like a deer in headlights. You tilt your head and feign confusion. 

“What do you mean, my Lord? Of course I am excited to dance with you.” 

He had a knowing look in his eyes and his expression softened when he realized you must’ve been nervous at his question. 

“I mean that I know you don’t feel for me how I feel for you. You made it a little obvious.” 

You look away from him, lost for words. 

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I do not feel for you in the way you have for me. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier…” 

Your voice trails off, wanting to say more but not wanting to expose yourself in the process of explanation. 

“I know you have feelings for my servant, Donghyun.” 

You look at him yet again, but this time with a shocked look on your face. 

“How did you…” 

“Again, you made it pretty obvious. So did he. I noticed since the first day of practice that you two would exchange glances at each other. I had to remind you to keep eye contact with me.” He chuckled.

“I also figured when he offered to take you home the first night as well. Donghyun has a fear of driving a carriage after a minor accident he had years ago. We never make him do it, so I was surprised when he asked. I had a feeling then that something was going on. After that point, I had arranged for him to come get you because I knew it would make him happy. I also didn’t need the items I had him pick up for me at the tailor but I knew you’d be there so I sent him. I didn’t tell him that you’d be there but he started talking about his encounter with you when he came back. He could not wipe the smile off of his face.” 

You looked at Sungho in awe that he would do that for his servant. 

“After that, I knew for sure that he was harboring feelings for you. And when you came here to stay the night, I had heard from your brother that you were excited to stay over and that you didn’t once mess up while dancing with Donghyun like you had with me for the last 4 days.” 

You sigh, relieved to know that Donghyun had truly felt the same way about you that you had about him. 

“You don’t think it’s wrong that we have an attraction to each other? Surely this wouldn’t go over well with the Duke and Duchess.” 

“I could handle them,  and besides, I have other women that have reached out about their interest for me.” 

He says laughing, trying to lighten the mood a bit. 

“I feel that we have gotten close like friends over this past week. I would be more than happy to know that you would make Donghyun happy.” 

Looking up at him you smile.

“That makes me feel so relieved. Thank you for understanding and being so kind about it. I was so nervous about having to turn you down. And while I do appreciate you thinking I could make Donghyun happy, I don’t even know how I would go about seeing him again after this. He won’t even be at the ball.” 

Sungho takes your hand in his, soothing it. 

“You will find a way. There is always a way.” 

He says almost cynically. He had a plan. You give him a hug and you two take to walking back, as it was nearing dinner time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner you head back to your room to pack up your belongings. You hear a knock on your door.

“It’s Donghyun. May I come in, Lady Y/N?”

You smile and almost run to the door to open it in excitement. 

“Hello Donghyun, what brings you in here?” 

You ask while inviting him inside and closing the door behind you. 

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess in here. I was just packing up my belongings.” 

You say apologizing for the messy state of the room. 

“It’s no worries at all. I was coming around to ask if you needed any help with packing or if you needed anything. I will be bringing you back so take your time, there is no need to rush.”

You can only look up into his eyes, suddenly becoming very aware of your height difference and how close he actually was to you. The tension in the room was palpable, like you could cut through it with a knife. 

Everything Sungho told you at the park was replaying in your mind. You kept thinking about how he kissed your hands the night prior and the feeling it left in the pit of your stomach. 

Your eyes were looking all across his face. His eyes that were big and sparkly and how you could get lost in them for hours. How perfectly his nose was shaped. His thick lips that looked so plump and kissable. His hair that was styled so perfectly, its length helping sharpen the look of his jawline. He truly did look like a work of art. 

Unbeknownst to you, he was staring right back at you. Taking in all your features. His eyes looked first at your hair, then your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, your eyes, then your lips. They lingered at your lips for a while before looking back into your eyes. 

“Lady Y/N…” 

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to ruin the moment between you two but he didn’t want to do anything either of you would regret. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You place your hands on his shoulders and lean up to kiss him. His hands go straight to your waist, stabilizing you while he reaches down to meet your lips. It's like a flame lit between your bodies, not wanting to part from each other. You both start off slow. You take your time navigating through the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck, pulling him in closer. Donghyun’s hands are roaming your body, wanting to feel as much of you as he can, respectfully. He’s aware of the implications that this kiss holds, but remembers that you’re a lady, and fights off any other naughty thoughts that are running around his mind. He doesn’t know that you’re thinking similar naughty thoughts. You both continue like this for a bit before pulling away, needing to catch your breath. You’re left breathless and needy, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in your stomach, wanting more. 

You're both looking into each other's eyes, the magnitude of your actions hitting you almost instantly. You pull away from each other slightly and take a deep breath. 

“That was my first kiss.” 

You say to break the silence. 

“Mine too.”

He says and you giggle a bit. He starts laughing too, lightening the mood. 

“I’m sorry for asking to kiss you. I realize how inappropriate that was.” 

He looks away shamefully only for his attention to be pulled back to you when you speak up. 

“Don’t apologize. It was more inappropriate for me to have just pulled you in like that. But I did enjoy it. I enjoy being around you, Donghyun.”

It’s his turn to blush, not being able to stop the bright smile from appearing in his face, his eyes smiling just as big. 

“I enjoy being around you as well.” 

“I know. Lord Sungho told me all of your efforts to come pick me up and drop me off were because of your feelings for me. If it wasn’t obvious by now I have feelings for you as well.” 

You sit down on the bed and pat the seat next to you for him to sit down as well. You take his hands into yours before continuing to speak. 

“Lord Sungho was telling me about your feelings for me. He told me he could sense that I didn’t have feelings for him because I was constantly looking at and searching for you.” You confess.

“He told me that he supports us figuring out whatever this may be between us.” 

“But how? I am merely his servant and you’re the daughter of Lord L/N. I don’t know how this could work between us.” 

He looks down sheepishly, realizing that there was no way he would be allowed to be with you. You take his face in your hands, caressing his cheek with your thumb. 

“If the worry is about my parents, leave it to me. Do not worry about that. You would need to talk to Lord Sungho and your family.” 

“That wouldn’t be too hard, I don’t have any other family. My parents were poor and could barely afford to live. We were taken in by the former Duke and Duchess and my parents worked for them. I grew up with Lord Sungho and we are best friends, but I am also his servant. My parents died a while ago, so really, it’s just me.” 

He talked so calmly and openly about his past, as if he was telling you just another regular story. He smiles at you, melting into your touch.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, that must have been really hard.” You stare into his eyes, your expression softening at his confession of his parents’ passing. 

“Thank you. Now let’s get you back. You have a ball to prepare for.” 

He helped you bring your stuff out. It was to both of your surprises that Sungho was standing outside waiting for you by the carriage. 

“I hope you’re okay with me bringing you back, Lady Y/N. I cleared my schedule for tonight.” Even though you really wanted Donghyun to drop you back, you knew that you would see him again eventually. You nod to Sungho before bowing to Donghyun and parting ways, Sungho helping you into the carriage. You see Donghyun smiling wide at you, waving you off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The carriage ride began quietly. You couldn’t help the goofy smile that splayed across your face thinking about your kiss with Donghyun. The way his hands held you so firmly at first, like he was scared to grip you any harder. Then after getting into it for a bit, the way he squeezed your figure like he never wanted to let you go. The heat you felt between your bodies, like it was meant to happen for the two of you to be together. 

“You’re not usually this quiet on carriage rides with Donghyun, are you?” 

Sungho giggles, breaking you out of your thoughts. You blush at the thoughts you were having.

“No, but, I have a lot on my mind.”

He can hear the smile through your voice.

“Is it the ball? Or something else?”

“It is the ball amongst other things. I’m scared but also excited. I know I was dreading it at first but I think I’m going to be sad when it's all over.”

You respond honestly, albeit, leaving out the biggest piece of information you were just thinking about. 

“Now that all makes sense. But tell me really, what were you ACTUALLY thinking about? Thinking about the ball would not make you smile and giggle like you just did. Does it have something to do with Donghyun? Did something finally happen between you two” Sungho is glad you can’t see the smirk on his face.

“Lord Sungho! How dare you ask such a question!” 

You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your lips, flabbergasted at his boldness.

“Oh come on Lady Y/N. You have already rejected me as a possible future husband. The least we can do is remain friends. I feel that we have become very close throughout this whole process. Not to mention that I have basically played the part of cupid in your relationship with Donghyun, whatever that may come of it.” He has a point. 

“Fine. I suppose we can stay friends,” you say sarcastically, but actually you're really fond of the relationship you’ve grown to have with Sungho. It seems that your relationship has grown to be closer to that of a sibling relationship. 

“But, we drop the formalities when we’re alone! Being called Lady Y/N by you feels too proper now that we are on a friend-to-friend basis.”

“Alright fine, I will drop formalities with you, but you still have to call me Lord Sungho,” He says, joking but he swears he can hear you roll your eyes at his comment. 

“But okay, okay! Tell me what happened. I know Donghyun went into your room before you left.”

“It wasn’t anything much! We talked for a bit…”

“Aaannddddd?”

“And we kissed”

You hide your face in your hands, embarrassed after having said it out loud. Sungho bursts out laughing and then apologizes afterwards for laughing. 

“That’s it? I’ll have to have a talk with him when I get back.”

“That’s not all! We talked after about what would come of this. We both obviously want to be together but he was worried about what my family would say since he’s your servant and I’m me. We don’t even know how we would be able to meet, especially once I tell my family that you and I are not going to pursue a relationship together.” 

“Don’t tell your parents that we will not be together, yet. If you say that we do want to pursue a relationship together, that would make it easier for you to see Donghyun at our manor.”

“But what about you? I don’t want to hold you back from pursuing someone else because of this.”

“Well, unless you plan on hiding this relationship for years, I won’t be missing out on much if it is only for a few months.”

He laughs and you sigh. You feel so grateful for Sungho and his willingness to do this for you, even though you never asked him to. It shows how much he cares for both you and Donghyun. 

“Plus, this is the least I can do for Donghyun. He has done so much for me, I owe him at least this much.”

You love how humble Sungho is. He never took for granted what he had and how he was so selfless, always looking out for others. Your respect for him only grew more. 

“I could never ask you to do this for me, but thank you so much. I will owe you after this as well.” 

There’s a shared silence between you two for a bit before you break it again,

“What did you mean when you said you would need to talk to Donghyun when you get back?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sungho brought you home, you felt it inappropriate to let him leave with anything other than a hug, which surprised both your parents and Dongmin. 

“I will see you at the ball, Lady Y/N. Have a great night.”

He kissed your hand and left. You walked into your house, not missing the confused smile on Dongmin’s face. He helped you take your bags back to your room where he shut the door. You immediately knew that he was going to want to talk about that hug.

“I thought you liked his servant? Why are you hugging him in front of our parents?” 

You sighed, explaining everything to him, even the kiss you shared with Donghyun. He felt like he could tear up at your confession.

“You’re being so dramatic Dongmin.” You slapped his arm and he could tell you were being serious about this. 

“So he really offered to do that for you, huh? What a good man he is. Good luck explaining all this to mom and dad in a few months.” The both of you shared a laugh at his statement, not wanting to think about what that moment would look like. 

After telling him all of the information from your stay, he leaves you to yourself, where you ponder what the next two days will hold. The whole time you prepare for sleep, you’re thinking about Donghyun. About his hands, his face, his eyes, his lips. You miss the feeling of his lips on yours. You think about when the next time you’re going to see him will be. You hope that Sungho will invite you back to his house after the ball so you could see him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who are you? What is your name? This is a two-faced game…”

The day of the masquerade ball arrives, and you’re as nervous as ever. The setup in the ballroom at your house was complete. The tables were beautifully decorated with gorgeous centerpieces and plates of hors d'oeuvres. There were plenty of drinks ranging from water, to juice to alcohol. The dance floor was polished to perfection, so much so that you could see your reflection if you looked down at it. The only thing left was for you to calm your nerves. 

You looked around, thinking about all the events leading up to this day. How you didn’t know how to dance prior to this. How nervous you were when you kept stepping on Sungho’s shoes. How your attention flew to Donghyun the moment you stepped into the practice room. How you met Sungho and ended up falling in love with his servant. 

Shaking your head, you focus now on greeting the guests as they enter the ballroom, remembering that this day was to celebrate your parents and your family. Everyone had masks on, so you were worried about not being able to recognize some people at first. You put on a smile, and it grew a 100x bigger when you saw Sungho and his parents. Of course if there was someone you’d recognize, it would be him. He greets you like normal and walks in, admiring the way everything was set up. He decides to stand next to you while you greet people, talking to him in between the guests’ arrivals. He whispers in your ear,

“Donghyun was right, you do, look beautiful,” he says, smiling at you and admiring the dress. 

You blush at the thought of his name, and the fact that he was gushing to Sungho that you looked beautiful in your dress. 

“Thank you.”

You could feel eyes on you. Even through the masks, you knew that people were staring at you. You assumed that you’d get stares from other potential suitors, but you didn’t think the feeling would be this overwhelming. You were still nervous but having Sungho by your side helped you a little. After about an hour of walking around, greeting and talking to guests, you decide to check in on your brother and parents. 

“How is everything going over here?”

“Hey Y/N! Everything is good around here. How are you holding up? There’s been a lot of suitors coming up to talk to us about you.” Dongmin responds.

“Have there? I’ve been feeling a lot of people staring at me and it's overwhelming, honestly. I didn’t expect there to be so many people wanting to get to know me.”

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you into a hug, assuring you that it’s going to be alright and that it's only for one day. You congratulate your parents on their anniversary and the big success of the party before you head back to the dance floor with him.  Before the main dance of the ball starts, there were a couple of slow songs that people took to the dance floor to do. You knew these, as they were not that hard, but you had a line of suitors waiting to dance with you. You dance with them one by one, silently wishing it was over after every dance. During a break session you head to a table to grab a snack. You spot Sungho at a table by himself. You walk up to him and let out a deep breath that you were holding. Sungho can sense your tension. 

“It’s that bad, huh?”

“They’re all very nice. But I have no interest in them. And I’m worried about the actual masquerade dance. Practicing with you was amazing and I thank you, truly, but I cannot hide the fact that I am nervous.”

“I know, but you will do amazing, I promise.”He sounded too sure, like he was plotting something. Your break was short-lived however, as a couple minutes later they called for everyone to join the dance floor for the fabled masquerade dance. Your heart beat sped up as you got into position with Sungho by your side.

Panic set in once the music started playing. Things were going smoothly at first, the music slow enough for you to keep up. You focused on not stepping on Sungho’s shoes, like you often did during the practice sessions. He could sense your nervousness and gave you a small smile. 

“Hey, look at me. You’re doing great. Just keep looking up at me and let your body move on its own, don’t think about it too much.”

He was always good at calming you down, settling your nerves during practices, but it wasn’t helping now, not after you practiced with Donghyun. You wished you were dancing with him. He was able to calm your nerves in an instant. You didn’t once mess up during your practice with him.

Sungho was nice, he danced well and he was undeniably handsome. He was perfect in every way. You wished he could calm you down like Donghyun could. You look up at him and smile, trying to calm yourself and focus but the only thing on your mind was him. Keeping up for a bit, you were doing better but your blood ran cold at the next announcement:

“Let’s switch it up tonight! Everyone, please take a step to your left and meet your new partner!” 

You take a step back and part with Sungho, watching as he spins with his new partner. He mouths to you, ‘heads up,’ before spinning away. You looked around frantically, confused. You were at the edge of the dance floor. Everyone seemed to have been able to find their partners except for you. You proceed with the steps by yourself, trying to keep up with the now quickened pace. 

Suddenly, you spin and someone interlocks their hands with yours. 

“May I have this dance?” 

You can instantly recognize the almost shoulder-length brown hair, the thick lips and the eyes that still glimmer even through his mask. His voice is especially unmistakable. You felt a wave of relief wash over you. 

“Donghyun!?”

You whisper-yell back at him. You focus for a second, straightening yourself out and talking to him during the parts of the dance that you guys are close enough to hear each other.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible but, what are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t attend?” 

Really, you were having more trouble hiding your excitement. You no longer felt panic but confidence. Donghyun was always able to make you dance better.

“It was Lord Sungho’s idea! He wanted us to be together tonight!”

You hold in your laughter at his child-like glee. His smile making it impossible for you not to smile back at him. With your new found confidence, you are able to finish the dance without making any mistakes. The dance ends with Donghyun’s hand caressing your face before you two part ways for dramatic effect. After the dance, you both look for Sungho to thank him but he already beat you to it, walking up to you and Donghyun.

“I know I'm the best, no need to thank me.” he says all cocky. 

“Well I was going to thank you but nevermind.” you playfully roll your eyes at him, not being able to conceal your smile. 

Donghyun laughs at your interaction, Sungho having already told him about how you two agreed to drop formalities whenever possible and act more like friends than failed partners. 

“I’m kidding. You guys did beautifully. I’m so happy for you guys!” 

Sungho and Donghyun exchange knowing looks, laughing together afterwards. With the main dance being over you were able to relax for a bit. The party was still very lively and busy, with everyone now settling down to eat and mostly drink for the rest of the night. After talking with a couple more people and congratulating your parents once again, you tell them you will be going to lie down in your room for a bit. With their approval, you take it as the perfect opportunity to slip away from everyone with Donghyun, into your room. 

“I’m so happy you were able to come! It truly was the best part of the night!”

You say to him after closing the door, giving him a hug. He sighs into your embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and letting out a contented sigh. 

“You look even more beautiful today. I didn’t think it was possible. And you did great out there. I'm so proud.”

You blush at his words and pull out of the hug, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“You look very handsome. I don’t ever want to stop looking at you. And thank you, it was all because of you I was able to relax and do well tonight. No offense to Sungho but I was praying that I could’ve been dancing with you from the start.” 

He smiles at your words before tilting your head up towards his, leaning down to give you a kiss. This one felt different to the one you shared at the Park’s residence. That one was more needy and sloppy, both of you not knowing how to deal with the emotions that had built up and were coursing through your veins. This one was more slow, emotions flowing steady through the way your lips parted and met each other yet again. Donghyun was taking his time kissing you, slowly moving down your face to your jaw, then your neck and to your exposed collarbones. 

You let out pleasured sighs at his actions, not wanting him to stop. 

“I think I know what's going to happen, but I’ve never done anything like this before…”

You admitted shyly. He stopped his kisses on your neck before stepping back to look at you.

“I understand. I have never done anything like this before either. But if you allow me, I know I can make you feel good. Do you trust me to do that for you, Lady Y/N?”

If the way his eyes were pleading with yours to say yes wasn’t enough, it was his hands holding your so softly and the way that he wanted to take care of you that did. 

“I trust you Donghyun.”

He smiles at you before kissing your lips softly, hands going behind your dress to unzip it. After slipping out of it, you were left in a short, white slip-on dress. He walks you both to your bed where he has you straddle him. He runs his hands up your exposed thighs gently squeezing them a bit. 

“If you want to stop at any point, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

You nod your head eagerly as you pull him in for a kiss this time. He repeats his actions from earlier, kissing you for a bit before moving down to kiss your neck. You moan as he leaves wet kisses on your collarbone. He runs his hands up your arms before placing them on your waist, moving towards your chest. He puts his hand over your clothed breast, giving it a playful squeeze, wanting you to be okay with it before doing more. Upon hearing you moan again, he takes it as a green light before squeezing it more, rubbing his thumb over your covered nipple. 

Your face is hot and you know that you’re blushing out of embarrassment but you don’t want him to stop. You pull the straps of your slip off, fully exposing your chest to him. You look away in embarrassment, not wanting to see the look on his face.

“You’re so beautiful, and so perfect.” 

He grabs your jaw making you look at him again before connecting your lips. He lifts you both up off of the bed only to lay you down softly, never leaving your lips. He takes off his dark green overcoat, which he picked out to match with you when Sungho told him he would also be attending. He unbuttons his shirt and, to his surprise, you’re staring right at him. His toned and lean body makes his slight abs visible, even in the darkness of your bedroom. He smirks,

“Do you like what you see?”

He says playfully to which you feel your cheeks burn for the 100th time. He fully takes his shirt off, throwing it on the floor before making his way down your body. He runs his large hands up and down your legs before pausing to ask you a question: “Have you ever touched yourself before?” 

He looked up at you with those big sparkly eyes that crinkled in the corner when a slight smile made its way onto your face. 

“It’s quite embarrassing to admit, but yes I have, but not much.”

“That’s not embarrassing to admit, I appreciate your honesty, but please guide me, so I can make you feel as good as I can.”

He gives you the sweetest smile before slipping your dress up a little, now face-to-face with panties that have a clear wet spot around them.

“I didn’t know I made you this excited so quickly,”

He didn’t seem like the type, but his words were cocky, chuckling as he ghosted his fingers over the wet patch. You played into it,

“They were like this after our first kiss too. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about you,”

You whispered to him which only spurred him on. He slowly slipped your panties off, discarding them next to his shirt, before rising a little to meet your lips. He guided two of his fingers down and hovered them above your clit. 

“Tell me how this feels…”

He gently rubs your clit in circles, barely applying any pressure at first. He takes your slight whimper as a good sign and adds a little more pressure, kissing your neck as well. You grab onto his arm, clutching it as the pleasure in your core builds. You allow yourself to make some noises, the music outside loud enough to drown out your moans. You absentmindedly grind into his fingers, wanting more. Taking that as his sign, he moves his fingers away from your clit and slips them up and down your wet folds, collecting your slick. 

“Let me know if it becomes too much”

He slips one finger in slowly. They were a lot longer than yours were and a lot thicker too. You nod your head at him to move and he slowly pushes a finger in before dragging it back out. 

“F-Feels so good.” 

He added another finger after a bit, making sure you were ready to take him. You buck your hips up into his fingers when he hits your sweet spot.

“Right there, it feels so good!” 

You arch your back more, feeling immense pleasure build up within you. Suddenly, he takes out both fingers, to which you whine. He removes his pants and boxers before climbing back onto the bed and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I want you to finish on me. Are you ready, Lady Y/N?” 

You nod your head quickly, wanting nothing more than for him to already be in you, but you’re nervous. 

“Please be careful, and go slow. I’ve never done this before…” 

“Don’t worry, I will make sure you are alright.” 

He lines himself up with your entrance, biting back a groan as he slowly pushes himself in. You hiss a little at the intrusion, the foreign feeling causing you slight pain. His face morphs to one of worry to which you quickly reassure him that you’re okay. 

“I’m okay, you can go ahead and move…”

His thrusts are painfully slow, not wanting to hurt you anymore. He can feel you squeezing his biceps, a little pride swelling in his chest. He takes this chance to dip down into your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses but making sure not to leave any marks. 

Your moans grow loud and are more frequent, a result of him speeding up his pace. You sit up slightly causing him to hit into you deeper. He groans in your ear, 

“You feel so good around me, I don’t think I’ll be able to last much longer,” 

The feeling in your stomach is familiar, similar to the one Donghyun had caused earlier when he was fingering you. You assumed this is what it meant to be close, feeling the pleasure tighten and about to burst. 

“I feel it, please don’t stop Donghyun!” 

You let yourself be a little louder that time, knowing it would fuel him to go faster— and he did. Moments later you’re coming all over him. He thrusts a few more times before pulling out and using his hand to finish himself off, cumming all over it. 

Your breathing is shallow and quick, your throat dry from all the moaning and kissing. Donghyun runs to the bathroom connected to your room and washes his hands before grabbing a towel to clean you up. You wince at the process, still sensitive from before. 

“Thank you for cleaning me up, Donghyun. That was amazing.” 

“You were amazing. I didn’t know I could feel that good. I didn’t go too hard, did I?” 

You shook your head before pulling him in for another kiss. You thought about what he had said before when you first kissed. How he hadn’t kissed anyone before either. 

“No, it was just perfect. But I have a question for you. Last time, you said you never kissed anyone before. So how were you so good at what you just did?” 

It was Donghyun’s turn to blush and avoid your gaze. 

“That night that we kissed, Lord Sungho had asked to speak to me after he got back. He asked about what had happened and then he asked me if I knew what to do afterwards. When I told him that I had never done that before, he explained to me what the next process would be like…” 

“Oh my, I’m sure that was embarrassing for you, having to talk to him about such an intimate thing?”

“Not really. We practically grew up together, besides the fact that I am his servant, he doesn’t treat me like one. We’re like brothers.” 

He smiles to himself at the thought of Sungho treating him more like a brother than a servant. 

“Of course we have to act very formal when others are around, but when we’re by ourselves, it’s like the class gap doesn’t exist.” 

“That’s so beautiful. I’m glad he doesn’t make you feel like you’re just a servant. You’re so much more than that.” 

You get up, wincing slightly at the ache between your legs, suddenly aware that you were still very naked. You look back to see Donghyun staring at you with a bright smile, eyes disappearing because he was smiling so wide. You say playfully,

“Stop looking at me! I’m naked!”

“I know, I’m the reason why.” 

You laugh at his joke while slapping his arm. 

“You’re cheeky”

“Maybe just a little bit.”

He laughs and gets up, putting his clothes back on and helping you back into your dress.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Welcome to my Masquerade…”

You could still hear the music outside, and the faint voices of people over it. Slowly, you both slip out of your room, you first and Donghyun leaving a few minutes later. You catch the eye of Sungho and Dongmin as you enter the ballroom. Dongmin says something first,

“You’ve been gone for a while! I was looking for you, where have you been? There were many people asking to speak to you.”

You hope they don’t catch the way your breath hitches before answering,

“After the dance, I told mom and dad that I would go to my room to lie down for a bit…” 

Now it was Sungho’s turn to speak,

“If you were lying down, why are you a little sweaty and your hair is messed up?” 

Before you could answer, Donghyun walks into the ballroom, walking up to the three of you. 

“How is everyone’s night going so far?” 

Donghyun says, adjusting his mask. Dongmin and Sungho exchange knowing looks, Sungho smirking up at Donghyun. 

“It’s going fine. We were looking for Y/N because there were many people wanting to talk to her but we couldn’t find her. I was going to ask you to help us find her but you disappeared too.” 

Sungho tilted his head to the side, waiting for Donghyun’s explanation. He had never lied to Sungho before, but he was quick on his feet.

“Oh, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you look, I was in the restroom. But I see that you have found her and I’m sure there are plenty of people still waiting to talk to her now.” 

You look up at him in disbelief, holding back a laugh as you feign seriousness. Dongmin tongues his cheek, also holding back a laugh. He grabs your arm, guiding you to the next person that wants to talk to you, whispering to Donghyun,

“I know what you guys did, fix your shirt,”

Donghyun looks down, realizing that his shirt was sticking out from underneath his overcoat, not tucked into his pants. He looks up at Sungho, who's already shaking his head at him. 

“If you guys are gonna be sneaking around like this, at least get better at being aware of your state afterwards… but then again, I am proud of you. Did you do everything I told you to do?” 

Donghyun smirks, fixing his shirt before answering,

“Have I ever not done something you’ve told me to do?” 

Both men share a laugh as they watch you struggle to hide your disgust at the next suitor you’re talking to. You make eye contact with Donghyun for a second, to which he winks at you, mouthing a  ‘good luck’ before shooting you a thumbs up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the ball ends, you and your family see the guests off, saying your goodbye’s. The last family to leave is Sungho’s. By now, your family lets you see him off without them needing to be there, so they say their goodbyes before heading back inside. Sungho’s parents give you the same courtesy, waiting in the carriage for Sungho and Donghyun, who drove the carriage here. Dongmin insisted he stay outside with you. 

“Well, I’ve had a lovely evening, Lord Dongmin, Lady Y/N. I hope to see you soon at our manor. I’m sure someone else would like to see you there as well.” 

Sungho brings your hand up to his lips. 

“Next time you come over, be sure to bring Lord Dongmin with you, we have much to discuss.” 

Dongmin and Sungho exchange hugs and talk amongst themselves while Donghyun comes up to you. 

“I have also had a lovely evening with you, Lady Y/N. I hope to see you soon.” 

Donghyun kneels before you, placing a kiss onto the backs of both your hands, the grandest request of courtship. 

“I wish to court you from here on. Please think of me until we see each other again.” 

You tear up a little at his confession, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, hoping that Sungho’s parents weren’t looking out the carriage, wondering what’s taking them so long. 

“I will be sure to visit very soon. And I promise, I’ll think of you everyday.” 

With that, the four of you bid each other farewell, you and Dongmin making your way back inside. 

“That was so risky, even for you. You’re lucky nobody caught on.”

“I was nervous the whole time but it just felt right. I hope you’re not mad at me, big brother.” 

“Why would I be mad? My little sister is happy! And I’m so happy for you. Not to mention how me and Sungho have built quite the friendship over this past week, especially tonight.” 

“Thank you Dongmin. I really like him. I’m glad you do too! I hope you guys can build a good friendship as well.” 

He pulls you into a hug and you finally feel at ease, after the preparation, the practice, talking to so many people and the actual ball itself. Not to mention that your and Donghyun’s earlier affairs had your legs slightly shaking the rest of the night. You feel yourself relaxing into Dongmin’s arms, the exhaustion from the entire week finally catching up to you. 

“Let’s get you to bed. I know you must be tired.” 

Dongmin scoffs before picking you up, carrying you to your bed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know this is so long but I hope you guys enjoyed reading! Again, its my first fic on here so please be nice! my asks are open so if you have any questions feel free to ask!

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

[hannieween]

city lights series joshua makes my heart go BRRR... anyways imagine joshua taking care and spoiling their S/O a little extra on their birthday 😌👉👈

hiiiiii nonniee!! (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

...

is... is this a request? omg nonnie is it your bday? 🥺

i've never received a request, so i'm going to assume that this is a req!

here i go ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: fluff, smut (18+) ✮ aus: boyfriend joshua ✮ word count: 4.1k

✮ a/n: this is connected to the city lights series (i'm not a 100% sure if you wanted this to be linked to city lights joshua or not, nonnie, sorry) — reading the series is necessary imo before reading this

i really got carried away with this

i hope you like this nonnie! ᨐฅ♡

› smut tags under the cut

✮ warnings: foul language, joshua is in love, dom joshua, pussy drunk joshua, tooth rotting fluff, body worshipping, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, after care. pet names: baby, bunny (hers) › this is not proofread

✮ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers only. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

3:14 AM

In the middle of the night, you stirred under the covers and turned over.

It was deadly silent, except for the soft breaths that your boyfriend exhaled while he slept beside you. It had been some hours since you both called it a night after your dinner party and went to bed, obviously not before he spoiled you before sleep.

Your hair was still humid from the mandatory shower you always took after sex, the reason why you woke up, because it was making you shiver.

You slowly sat up, coiling from the brutal change from the warmth beneath the covers, mostly emanating from your sleeping boyfriend and rose from your bed.

Rummaging your drawers silently, you looked for your favorite fuzzy socks without making too much noise and climbed back to bed to put them on with a content sigh.

You slid carefully back beneath the covers and upon lying back on your pillows, a warm hand snaked on top of your tummy, drawing a small gasp in surprise along with a shiver that rushed down your spine.

"Are you cold, baby?" Joshua asked in a low murmur.

"Yeah, a bit," you replied in the same manner.

"C'mere," he whispered, using the hand on your tummy to scoot your body closer by wrapping it around your waist.

He cuddled your body perfectly, enveloping it with his warmth and as soon as your body was pressed to his, he sighed softly and nuzzled his face against your humid hair.

"Happy birthday, bunny," he muttered softly, moving his face to press his lips against the apple of your cheek.

That made you smile. Joshua had been repeating those words over the night at any chance he could get. And it was finally your birthday, when the clock had struck midnight, your boyfriend was the first one to hug you and wish you a happy birthday.

"Thank you, Josh," you replied.

"Mm," he replied sleepily, then wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly.

You saw the features of his face relax and his arms around you slowly did too when he resumed sleeping peacefully. You nuzzled against his lean chest and breathed the smell of his skin in.

There were small hickeys on his throat, just below his Adam's apple that bobbed slightly when he swallowed.

And then,

"Are you having trouble falling asleep, baby?" Joshua muttered, his voice was honeyed, so sweet that it almost melted into your ear.

"Yes," you whispered.

It was mind-boggling how he read you so effortlessly. He knew you were awake still without even opening his eyes. You supposed, the many times you've shared a bed together, he has picked up a lot of things from you. That and, the fact that you're a terrible sleeper.

He opened his eyes to find yours, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips before he asked: "Can I do something to help you sleep, baby?"

The question burned in your body, like a fiery bolt of lightning across you. You nodded. "Yes. Anything, please."

Even though he made love to you right after you arrived from the dinner party, you still felt hungry for more.

The smile grew on his face with a soft sigh. "My needy bunny," he muttered, bringing a hand to cup your chin and hold you still as he pressed his lips on yours.

Slowly, tauntingly, his tongue pushed against your lower lip as he kissed you, his lips then captured yours, eliciting a small moan from you.

The sound only egged him on, with a low grunt from him, his lips captured yours, intensifying the kiss and now your boyfriend was kissing you deeply, using his body to press your back against the mattress and he climbed on top of you skilfully.

"You're so pretty, baby," he muttered after parting from your lips to look at you with the most adoring look on his face. He ran a finger on your cheek. "You looked beautiful tonight."

You stifled a sigh. Your boyfriend was the most attractive man you've ever seen. And he was wearing nothing but his black boxers, his lean chest and abdomen bare for your view.

"Thank you, Josh," you laughed a little in a mixture of nervousness and joy.

Joshua smiled contentedly. "I like it when you call me that," he confessed, dipping his head to kiss you softly.

Then he pulled his body back, making the covers slide from his body and effectively from yours, falling in bundles behind his body. His hands grabbed your pyjama shorts and panties by the waistband and pulled them down your thighs, and got them off your ankles to then set them aside on the bed.

"Can I keep my socks on?" you asked just when he moved to take your top off.

"Of course, bunny," he muttered warmly. "Whatever my baby wants."

You smiled in sheer joy and sat up for him to remove your top off, undressing you completely. You leaned back on the pillows and looked at the man towering in front of you.

His eyes roamed on your naked body, revelling at the sight of you with such love and adoration written on his face that it made your heart almost jump out of your chest.

"So pretty, baby," he echoed his own words, but this time they sounded in utter awe.

He placed his hands on each side of your body and lowered his body so he could kiss you, he trapped your lower lip between his before deepening the kiss.

"I'm so lucky," he muttered entrancingly between kisses, pressing his lips against yours repeatedly.

You stifled a moan and wrapped your arms around him. "We both are," you whispered. "Lucky."

"But I'm luckier," he muttered and you felt him smile against your lips.

You laughed into his mouth just before you could say anything because he was kissing you again.

"Shuddup," he whispered when he parted to look at you.

"Don't tell me to shut up! It's my birthday," you whined and laughed at yourself.

Joshua had been spoiling you so much lately and you realized that he'd been doing it from a week back, much as if he wanted to take a whole week to celebrate your birthday.

That being said, he took you out for dinner randomly, without telling you in advance. He also showered you with pretty gifts—a jewellery set, a Cinnamoroll squishmallow, which made your stomach twist in utter cuteness from both your boyfriend knowing you'd like this and the new addition to your squishmallow army.

The most recent of your birthday gifts he gave you was a bracelet he made with his own hands. It had your favourite colors and it was so pretty and carefully thought of that you almost didn't believe him at first when he told you he made it himself.

Well, that and the fact that your boyfriend likes to joke around with you sometimes.

And besides the gifts, the dinners, he also gave you a lot of attention. He'd been going an extra mile to make you feel good and loved to the point that he almost made you cry out of sheer joy.

But Joshua was all yours. That was the biggest birthday gift you could ever ask for.

"Mm, don't get bratty, baby," he muttered gruffly into your mouth as the kisses slowly got more heated. "It might be your birthday, but I could still cuff you to the bed."

Your stomach lurched at the sound of that. It is true that you enjoyed being cuffed to the rails of the headboard of the bed, you liked to be helpless while he pleasured you to the point you're rendered breathless and teary eyed.

"Would you like that, bunny? Should I get the cuffs?" he asked playfully, his lips pressed a wet kiss on the underside of your chin, trailing down your throat.

You swallowed thickly when your skin started to prickle, causing your nipples to harden too.

When you didn't answer, he sucked on your skin quite harshly, just on the spot where your collarbones join, making you bristle under his body and your arms tighten around his shoulders.

"No, I–," you stammered. "I'll be good, Josh."

"Hm," he hummed thoughtfully, but you knew that he was having his fun teasing you like this.

Then he ran his tongue flatly on one of your nipples, just before wrapping his mouth around it, suckling at your sensitive bud, humming again but this time in satisfaction.

"Joshua," you moaned softly when your skin prickled again, and your hand shot up and found his nape, your fingers grazed his scalp, eliciting a moan from his part. "God, Josh."

He removed his mouth from your pebbled nipple with a loud smacking noise and then turned to tease your other nipple in the same manner, while his hand came up to palm your recently licked breast, smearing his drool all over your skin.

When he finished suckling your nipple, his hands bulged up your tits, pressing them together to then bury his face in them to kiss and suck your skin.

"You have the prettiest tits, baby," he hummed against your skin entrancingly, kissing the swell of each, to then sucking lovebites right beside your areolas, where no one would see except for himself.

"Josh!" you mewled when he sucked your skin so harshly, the feeling shot right between your legs, making you writhe under his body.

"All mine," he pressed soft and wet pecks on top of each hickey, looking at the reddening spots, feeling content at his work.

You smiled teasingly, the snort you made with your nose made him look up and see your smug expression.

"What?" his pierced eyebrow quirked up. "Is it not true, baby?"

"It is true," you replied and then added. "There's no need to feel possessive of me anymore, Josh. I'm yours."

His hands stopped bulging up your tits and settled on each side of your ribcage, his elbows supporting his weight still.

Looking straight to your eyes, Joshua pulled out his tongue and glided the tip on your nipple, swirling around it only to watch you part your mouth and let out a whiny moan. Then, the corners of his lips rose into a smile, while still teasing your nipple with his tongue out.

"Fuck—Josh," you pleaded, the muscles of your inner thighs clenched on both his sides.

And he felt it.

"D'you like that, bunny?" he asked, still looking directly at you as he moved his mouth to tease your other nipple with the wet tip of his tongue.

You felt your skin prickle before you saw it get bumpy all over. "Yes," you whispered.

"Would you like to feel this on your pussy?" he asked just before he used his tongue to flicker your nipple. You paid attention to the movement of his pointed tongue and imagined that on your clit.

You gulped hard and nodded eagerly.

He pushed his eyebrows up, as if waiting for your verbal response.

"Yes, please, Joshua," you replied.

"Will you stop saying nonsense and let me eat you out, then?" he asked and smiled at you playfully.

You watched him slightly agape and flinched when he grazed at the swell of your breast with his teeth, egging you to answer.

"Wh-what nonsense?" you blurted, feeling a little lost.

"I won't stop feeling possessive of you, bunny," he rolled his eyes at his own sentence. "Not until I put a ring on your finger."

"Josh!" you squealed as your stomach lurched, thighs clenching all at the same time.

"Baby!" he replied, mocking your tone of reprimand with a laugh.

"Stop saying that!" you whined.

"Why, you don't wanna marry me anymore?" he asked before he continued his trail of wet kisses on the lower part of your sternum and down your tummy.

"O-of course I do," you stuttered nervously from both the big question and the fiery tingling sensation on your lower abdomen.

"So?" he egged you on, his lips reaching your mound.

"Josh," you squirmed, watching him pout his lips to suck lightly on your very sensitive skin.

"Mm?" he pushed his eyebrows up again, his eyes trained on yours.

"You-you saying that makes me a little crazy," you confessed with an anxious stutter.

"I know," he replied before kissing your inner thighs, making you gasp pathetically. "I like it."

"Why?" you breathed out, eyelids fluttering uncontrollably when you felt his lips grazing on your inner thigh.

He shrugged ever so slightly. "I like to imagine what your reaction will be when I do it for real."

"So that's why you torture me?" you asked, trying to smile at him to make him understand that you were joking, but instead you sounded completely flustered.

He lifted his face from the apex of your thighs, a question written on his furrowed brow. "Torture you?" he repeated and then smiled. "You're the one torturing me by making me wait."

"I meant it as a joke," you explained, and pointed to your abandoned and throbbing pussy with your eyes. "Please?" you urged him to continue.

"Do you think it's a joke that I want to propose to you?" he asked teasingly, but his tone was everything but.

Before you could give and answer, he pushed his tongue flatly between your folds, making you moan with your eyes screwed shut instantly.

"Fuck—Josh!" you cried out, the tips of your fingers grazing his scalp before grabbing his hair.

"Mm?" he replied and lifted his gaze as his tongue moved up to tease your clit in the same form he did to your nipples, slowly gliding the pointed tip of his tongue around your clit.

"M-more, give me more, please," you pleaded, propping your body on your elbows to look at him, his tongue doing the same motion, swirling around your sensitive bud to then flicker the pointed tip of his tongue side to side, but slowly.

He paused, "Answer the question," he instructed, his eyes focused on your face, knowing full well that it made you a little crazy, too.

"No—I don't think it's a joke," you stammered and pushed your hips up ever so slightly towards his mouth to get more pressure of his tongue on your clit.

Joshua groaned, moving the hands that were previously parked on your thighs and forced your hips onto the mattress, making you yelp.

"Josh, come on," you whined when he continued teasing you, now his hands holding you in place by your hips.

"Mm?" he hummed.

"Faster?" you pleaded and then added innocently: "Please, Josh. It's my birthday."

That made him laugh, he stopped teasing your clit with his tongue to give out a broad smile as he chuckled with his whole body.

"Oh, bunny. You think you're so slick," his pierced eyebrow shot up briefly.

But then he moved his mouth back to your cunt, the tip of his tongue pushing your throbbing clit gently, slowly, swirling around it to watch you squirm and hear your drawn out whimpers.

"Please, Josh," you whined and clenched your jaws tight when the tip of his tongue started flicking your clit side to side again, but refraining from applying the right amount of pressure of his tongue against your throbbing clit.

"Fuck, Josh!" you gasped when the sensation was a little more over a graze on your oversensitive bud, causing your thighs to begin trembling on the sides of his face.

Joshua smiled in response, his tongue still out and teasing you. The image was lewd, he looked so fucking hot that it only added to the teasing.

"Joshua, please," you whined again and bit your lip to keep yourself from whimpering lewdly.

Though you were sure the slight teasing from his tongue on your clit could bring out an orgasm from you. And it appeared that Joshua knew it too, but was trying to draw out your climax by teasing you some more.

"I,—I'm close," you muttered with a whiny tone. "Fuck, Josh, I'm cumming."

He blinked at you slowly, almost as if saying "go ahead," and that was all you needed to come on his tongue. You threw your head back and let out a cry of pure bliss, your whole body trembling under his strong grip.

Breathy moans escaped you as your chest started to heave, but his tongue didn't relent on your cunt, flicking your clit gently but at a steady pace. The worry of waking the neighbors a long, distant thought.

"God, Josh," you sighed heavily as you came down from your high and slumped down on your pillows, thinking it was over.

But oh, you thought wrong. Joshua stopped the flicking motions of his tongue on your clit, only to give broad strokes from your entrance and up your folds, drinking in your arousal with a low moan on his part.

Your orgasm was so intense that it left your walls fluttering around nothing. You gasped when you felt the first pulse in your entrance and it appeared that Joshua felt it on his mouth too.

"Mm," he hummed softly and stopped licking between your pussy lips to then push two fingers inside your fluttering walls. "You have the prettiest pussy," he muttered softly as his long fingers massaged your warm walls.

"Mm-hmph?" you hummed mindlessly with a tiny whine when he pulled out his two middle fingers covered in your slick and glided them up your folds and pinched your swollen clit between them, making you gasp again.

"D'you like that?" he asked gruffly, his eyes trained on the features of your face as he started rubbing his fingers up and down, pinching your clit in between.

The sensation was nearly harsh and it threatened to overstim you soon, but it was also so abundantly sweet in pleasure. You writhed your hips a little bit and nodded.

"Sof-softer? Please," you stammered and bit your lip from moaning when his fingers moved your clit around in circles.

"Anything you want, baby," he muttered gently before rubbing your clit with the pads of his fingers in a circle motion, softer and in a steady pace.

"God, Joshua," you sighed a moan and your eyelids fluttered close. The sensation provided by his two middle fingers on your clit was mind-numbing, you felt the pleasure from it everywhere; on your face, between your legs.

"Mm?" you heard him hum.

"Keep going, please," you whined. "Faster."

You heard a sigh and opened your eyes to see him smiling adoringly at you.

But the motion on his fingers picked up some speed, making your thighs clench and begin to shake a little as you felt your body nearing another sweet release. Your body tensed up as well instinctively, as if trying to recoil away from the pleasure it felt.

"Breathe," you heard your boyfriend remind you softly and you slowly took in a breath.

And just when you breathed out, you let out a long moan in pleasure, coming undone on his fingers, his mouth kissing your inner thighs, grazing your skin with his teeth as you came harder than before, chanting his name over and over until you gasped for air.

Panting and shaking, you opened your eyes and found your boyfriend still pressing kisses on your thighs, your mound and lower tummy before he took his fingers covered in your arousal to his mouth to lick his fingers clean.

Your inner thighs were smeared with your arousal, as you would soon find out when you came down from your high. So wet that in fact you could feel the bed sheets were wet beneath your butt too.

You smiled to yourself and propped your body on your elbows again, his eyes lifted to lock with yours.

You ran your fingers through his hair. "You do know I want to marry you, right?" you asked him, still feeling a bit breathless.

Joshua smiled before moving his lips slick in your arousal to kiss your inner thigh. "Mm, not to sure, should I get the ring right now?"

Your stomach lurched yet again, making your body jump on the bed slightly. "Y-you don't have a ring yet, right? Do you?"

"I don't know," he muttered before grazing your inner thigh with his teeth. "I might."

You rolled your eyes. "Joshua, be serious," you sounded a bit nervous.

"So you wouldn't say yes right now?" he asked and a small smirk appeared on his lips when he saw your dismayed expression. "Relax, baby," he muttered in an eased manner. "I'm just teasing you a bit."

"Oh m'god," you sighed and slumped back in your pillows.

"Are you ready to sleep, baby?" he asked as he grabbed your pyjama bottoms and panties.

"Yeah, I think I am," you sighed, blissfully tired and looked at your boyfriend. He held your panties for you to hook your ankles and lifted your hips as he helped you put your pyjamas on.

You both knew you were perfectly fine to do it yourself. But lately Joshua had been doting on you so much that you didn't question him as he did the same with your pyjama bottoms and when you sat up for him to put your top on.

He smiled cutely at you when your hair got ruffled as he put your top on and pressed a loving kiss on your forehead.

"Done," he patted your thigh affectionately and pointed to the door behind him. "Bathroom."

You groaned. "I don't want to," you whined, sitting up in the bed.

"Go baby," he laughed. "I need to change the sheets."

You were reminded then of the small wet stain below your body. "Oh, right."

"Do you want me to carry you there?" he asked softly, seeing that your thighs were still shaking a bit.

"No, I'm fine," you replied, scooting to the edge of the bed and hurried to the bathroom.

Your boyfriend had this routine of sorts, which consisted in taking care of your needs after he dommed you. He'd usually run a warm shower and inspect your wrists for any damage done, he'd cuddle you and ask you questions about your wellbeing.

But in this case, since you had already showered, and there was no bondage, no impact play, no need for the routine. Except for ensuring you'd go pee, of course. After you cleaned yourself up, you came back to your bedroom.

Joshua was finishing making the bed, the ruined sheets were on one corner of the bedroom floor. Your first instinct was to pick them up and immediately put them on the washing machine and program the cycle for the following morning.

"Leave that," Joshua said, spotting your intentions right on. "Get in here."

He nodded back to the bed and you lied down yet again as he climbed beside your body.

"Do you need anything, bunny?" he asked. "I can bring you water, or food if you're hungry."

You shook your head and he opened his arms for you to scoot right over to be wrapped in a warm hug. "I'm good, thank you Josh."

He cuddled your body under the covers, using his body's position behind you to kiss your nape and your hair.

"I'm so lucky to have you, baby," he mumbled against your ear, bringing a hand to run his fingers through your hair, gently and carefully.

"I'm lucky too," you whispered, grabbing the hand that was below your body to kiss his knuckles.

You heard him smile behind you, still running his fingers through your hair, the rhythmic motion slowly driving you to sleep, eyelids falling heavier by the second.

"I love you, bunny," he whispered.

"I love you too, Josh," you replied, feeling your heart beating at every word.

"Feels like you were made for me," he murmured.

You hummed softly in response, your heart fluttering erratically in your chest. "I am," you muttered, mustering up some boldness.

"Are you, bunny? Made for me?" he sighed running a hand from your shoulder and down your arm, caressing you gently.

"Yeah," you breathed. "With or without a ring."

He paused, but his hand didn't stop caressing your arm. "You know I'm not as possessive as before," he told you thoughtfully.

"I know," you conceded after some thought.

"The least I want you to think is that I want to own you or something like that by marrying you," he continued, and you could tell from his tone that he was falling asleep too, even if his hand was still stroking your arm.

"Josh," you muttered sweetly with a small laugh. "I don't think that!"

"I just want to make you happy. Give you the whole world," he whispered.

"You already make me happy, Josh," you muttered and pressed your body back against his. "You made me the happiest tonight."

"Mm, then I've still yet to give you the world," he muttered after some seconds.

You laughed and turned only to press a happy kiss to his smiling lips. "Baby steps, Mr. Hong."

He nodded in agreement. "Baby steps, Ms. Hong."

✮ a/n: so this is the first time i get a request (if it was indeed a request lol) but lemme know, do you like this? should i accept more requests?

so where exactly does this fall in the city lights timeline?

→ this will happen after the events of episode 8, which i hope i can post soon. i know i could've written something outside of the city lights canon, but i want everything i write and post to be within the same universe and what can i say, i got carried away

let me know what you think! likes, reblogs and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated! my ask box is always open!

now, i need to go back to writing guilty pleasures pt. 2!!!

i love youuuu ૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა ♡

toodles

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